J Paul Johnson
Moviegoers reared on a steady diet of Hallmark Channel fare but pining for a bit of indie-style spice to their diet may well find themselves appreciating the SXSW festival hit Peak Season. It’s a film that aims to convey a heartfelt depiction of a brief friendship-and-potential-romance between two like souls over the course a week against the scenic backdrop of the Teton mountains. With a lo-fi vibe, eccentric leads, and indie sensibilities, Peak Season aims to charm, even if at its core is a plot that plays out straight from Hallmark.
What happens, for instance, when recently engaged and wedding-planning Amy (Claudia Restrepo) arrives from New York with her unflaggingly inattentive yuppie hubby-to-be Max (Ben Coleman)? Will his neglect lead her to meet-cute a charismatic local (Loren, played by Derrick DeBlasis) whose low-key life as a fly-fishing wilderness guide presents a credible alternative to her rat-racing betrothed? And will Max’s neglect thrust Amy into Loren’s arms, forcing her to reconsider her life choices?
Yes, yes, and yes.
Peak Season isn’t aiming to tell a new story, but to its credit, it is aiming to tell an old story in a new, or at least slightly different way. It’s not shot in the glossy, gauzy faux-set style of the Hallmark television films its plot emulates. Instead, it aims for an earthier, more contemporary independent film vibe, with handheld camerawork, location shooting, an original soundtrack, and plenty of shots of Amy and Loren enjoying the lovely scenery of the majestic Tetons, where for a week they fish, hike, and talk.
Restrepo’s Amy is from an immigrant family less privileged than her fiancé’s, so it makes sense that she would question his monomaniacal focus on work and wealth-building. What makes less sense is why, exactly, other than his looks or money, she might have been attracted enough to agree to marry him in the first place: there’s very little indication from the script of what exactly drew either to each other to start. Max exists predominantly as a foil to make fisherman-boy Loren seem more attractive by comparison; unfortunately, as a consequence Amy seems, simply, shallow to be engaged to a man she barely understands and so ready to throw in with another.
DeBlasis’s Loren, meanwhile, evinces a dorky charm as the free spirit local. (He does not, for the record, own a Christmas tree farm.) He comes with his own coterie of friends and acquaintances that help characterize him as the one local who is not a total loser, at least by comparison. But neither Amy nor the script ever questions his heavy drinking (he drinks himself to sleep, which is hardly an innocuous character trait) nor his willingness to spend a week in close and intimate contact with an engaged woman. There is, buried in subtext, a theme about the class divisions inherent in a tiny vacation destination like Jackson Hole, where people like Max depend on the labor of gig-workers like Loren: it’s one the film might take seriously but largely abandons for its budding romance.
Eventually, Loren and Amy’s week will come to a close, and the plot will necessarily conclude. The script does not need to resolve Amy’s conflict in any especially meaningful way: we are to understand Amy prefers Loren to Max, Wyoming to New York, a life of thoughtful exploration and genuine companionship to rat-race wealth-building. It asks us to engage the dilemma Amy faces and the choice she must make, which makes the film’s conclusion a disappointment. None of that is the fault of Restrepo, who makes an excellent feature-film debut as the fiancée questioning her life choices.
Peak Season will have its fans and supporters, and it’s already earned plenty of kudos from festivalgoers and critics. It leads are charismatic and its sentiments not unreasonable, but despite its setting and charm it’s not too far removed from the Hallmark fare from which its plot is derived. In the end, it’s a bit more like visiting a less-than-majestic destination during the off season than it is exploring the Tetons at their precious peak.
