My therapist introduced the idea of “the story we tell ourselves.” What they mean by this is that individuals have a tendency to create a version of the truth that fits within the framework of information that they have. Someone doesn’t pick up the phone? They clearly hate you. Don’t text? You’re the worst and they’re laughing at you. You know, the usual melodramatic, toxic tales that color how we engage with the actions or inactions of others. But the story we tell ourselves isn’t just that, it’s also the version of events as we perceive them or how we reconstruct them when we recall them to others. That story, even if we’re aware of the changes we make, becomes the truth as we know it. In her feature-length directorial debut Okie, which debuted at the 2024 Santa Barbara International Film Festival, actor Kate Cobb (Gatlopp: Hell of a Game) tackles the cost of storytelling, as what may be harmless and inspiration to some, may be damaging and poisonous to others.
L-R: Kevin Bigley as Travis and Scott Michael Foster as Louie in OKIE. Photo courtesy of Chicago Media Angels.
Sometime after the death of his father, novelist Louie (Scott Michael Foster) returns home to collect a few items that his sister is too uncomfortable to retrieve for herself. It’s intended to be a day trip, a quick in and out, but when his old friend Travis (Kevin Bigley) appears on his father’s doorstep, Louie finds himself sticking around a little longer, catching up with old friends, and reminiscing about the good old days. Except Louie bears an albatross around his neck, having used the stories of his youth to gain himself fame and fortune, and the more time he spends at home, the clearer it becomes that the decision comes at a cost.
L-R: Scott Michael Foster as Louie and Kate Cobb as Lainey in OKIE. Photo courtesy of Chicago Media Angels.
According to the press notes, Okie started as a short before becoming a feature and, frankly, I’m curious to see the differences. As it exists now, this story, written by actor Bigley (Parked), bears all the marks of an expected “coming home” story and plenty of surprises that turn a drama into a psychological thriller. It all begins with the opening of the film as we follow Louie on his drive from the city (never named) through rural spaces and into town, the movement of the camera and his vehicle being in different directions, a choice that immediately conveys a sense that there’s discord underneath what follows. This feeling is supported when we see Louie’s voicemail list and it’s a series of messages from the same person. It’s here that exposition is smartly handled, using the voice of Rochelle Therrien’s Bridget to tell us who he is, what he’s doing, and establishing some immediate stakes while laying the groundwork for some landmines. Even going so far as to communicate that this is a couple, who is not only planning a wedding, but is already in counseling together. Louie hasn’t spoken and already the audience is making judgements, evaluating his choices, before we’ve had a chance to hear him speak. Upon arriving at his father’s home, Foster, as Louie, moves through the space as though weighted, the burden he carries unclear, but it’s present as he explores his old room, rummages through objects, and breathes in the emptiness of this place he called home. Up to this point, Bigley’s script could easily be about traditional nostalgia and the divergent paths we go on from our friends, but his story upends that quickly.
There’s a mistake that people make when they create the story they tell themselves. They forget that that story is made up of all the experiences that they’ve had up to that point. They forget that all the victories, all the failures, all the moments of comfort or shame, add up to who you are and where you are in this moment. So when we return to someplace or someone that used to mean something, even as we may revert back to who we were, everything we are remains. The script drops clues again and again, some more obvious than others, that keep leaning into Louie as someone who never took responsibility for the weight of his own choices, while others require a bit more careful consideration. Smartly, Bigley’s script calls direct attention to Louie’s faults almost as soon as he reconnects with Travis. It’s brought up naturally as two old friends who were incredibly close would, bolstering one moment while busting balls the next. This continues when Cobb arrives within the narrative, pulling double-duty as Lainey, Louie’s old sweetheart, and the trio hang out, not exactly living old times, but rekindling that same spirit. What’s rather poignant about Bigley’s script and the performances by both Bigley and Cobb is that it pointedly celebrates small towns and how those who live in them, who exist every day, are no less worthy of respect, of joy, of humanity than anyone else, regardless of bank account size. Because, make no mistake, these two don’t see their friend as wealthy, they’re proud of what he’s done, even if they have missed him, even if they are frustrated by his choices. At least, that seems to be the heaviness that Bigley and Cobb insert into their performances so that there’s a sense of loss hanging in the air even as the three laugh, drink, and otherwise reminisce. Even though they laugh, together or at each other, there remains a sense of Louie as a man apart, the air pregnant with the choices he’s made and the wake left by them.
L-R: Scott Michael Foster as Louie and Kevin Bigley as Travis in OKIE. Photo courtesy of Chicago Media Angels.
Impressively, Okie possesses and maintains a persistent sharpness. It’s there in the name: Okie. What it stands for, what it represents, implies both a certain ownership and familiarity, but also something that can be used to cut or bludgeon, to judge another. That we don’t really know where this story takes place or where “the city” is imbues Cobb’s film with an interesting otherworldliness that makes where this film takes place basically Anywhere, U.S.A.. The press notes indicate that the film was shot in 15 days in northern Illinois, but aspects of it remind me of where I grew up in Roanoke, Virginia. Not just the kinship of reconnecting with old friends, but the spaces that they exist within physically, as well as emotionally. And Okie is packed with emotion as Louie must contend with the consequences of the choices he made, selfishly only thinking of himself and not what occurs beyond his memories and the page.
L-R: Scott Michael Foster as Louie and Kevin Bigley as Travis in OKIE. Photo courtesy of Chicago Media Angels.
Coming home sometimes means coming to terms with who you are and, especially for a directorial debut, Cobb’s film is a meaty one. It captures that sense of loss from missed connections, missed opportunities, and missed friends, all while giving us a lead whose perspective is far more skewed than audiences are used to. In writing terms, Louie is an unreliable narrator, thereby making aspects of Okie trickier to pin down and, as a result, may be harder for audiences to grapple with upon its conclusion. One aspect of Bigley’s script required a full 24 hours of wrestling before I could make sense of it, something which casual audiences may not have the patience to do, but those willing to engage in a little mental calisthenics will discover Okie is worth the effort. Marked by strong performances from the three central cast members, a script that flips the notion of what we owe to our homes, and a total vision that’s at once comforting and alarming, Okie is a significant debut from a new directorial voice.
Screened during Santa Barbara International Film Festival 2024.
Available on VOD November 8th, 2024.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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