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(R)

Two out of four stars

For a movie with such a powerful title and potentially mind-bending premise (U.S. revisionist history), “Sword of Trust” never fully delivers on its early potential. Mixing 1990s-era Mumblecore improvisation with the southern gothic pathos of “Sling Blade” and “Junebug,” writer/director Lynn Shelton (“Humpday,” “Your Sister’s Sister”) has a hidden agenda that doesn’t become fully clear until the last 10 minutes. If you don’t mind waiting nearly an hour and a half for someone to get to the point while watching meandering comedians riff off of each other, you might just love Shelton’s pointed misfire.

Summoned to her late grandfather’s Alabama home to see what he left her in his will, Cynthia (Jillian Bell) is somewhat disappointed it wasn’t his house but rather a Civil War-era sword. This isn’t just any sword; it belonged to General Sherman (or maybe it was General Sheridan) who surrendered it over to a Confederate commander at the end of a battle no one has ever heard of, much less can pronounce. According to accompanying authentication certificates, this act meant the Union actually lost the war.

Evidently this huge bit of news was not reported to the rest of the world at the time (or ever) yet the premise sounds ripe for an ominous science fiction flick or an episode on the original “Star Trek,” but that’s not really the point. As it turns out there is a huge market for this arcane “truther” type of war memorabilia, a fact previously unknown to grizzled pawn shop owner Mel (Marc Maron), who is schooled on this little known tidbit by his mostly useless, flat-earth-subscribing employee Nathanial (Jon Bass).

All of this goes down after Mel shows no interest in the sword, despite the emphatic enthusiasm voiced by Cynthia and her wife Mary (Michaela Watkins) who just wants to dump the hunk of metal and be done with it. The next day the couple returns and is beyond overjoyed to hear that Mel and Jonathan have found a buyer ready to pay through the nose for the blade, but there’s a catch. The buyer’s employee will pick the quartet up and cross state lines into Tennessee to complete the sale.

Making it clear none of them have ever seen “Deliverance” or “Pulp Fiction,” the two men and two women board the back of a cargo van with all of the blind trust and non-concern of a hungry toddler looking for cake and ice cream at a birthday pool party.

For the next 30 minutes — the entire second act — this chatty Cathy foursome delivers a wanting episode of “Seinfeld” discussing everything under the sun except the sword. As improvisation goes, it’s pretty good but as a feature comedy, it gets stale real fast. Issues include alternative lifestyle family planning, Mel’s failed dreams of being a rock star in New York and interpretations of hate and aggression in each other’s voices. The subject of Mel’s troubled (ongoing?) romance with Deirdre (Shelton herself in an early cameo) — the one sub-plot which shows actual promise — is introduced yet quickly abandoned.

Showing up in the third act are a pack of mouth-breathing white supremacist types led by Hog Jaws — yes, Hog Jaws (Toby Hass) — and Kingpan (Dan Bakkedahl) that liven things up considerably and finally infuse the story with something resembling friction. How long it will last and how it might end is indeed interesting and it does take an unexpected turn once or twice but the third time fails badly.

As with all of Shelton’s previous works, and the bulk of the entire Mumblecore sub-genre in general, the best of the lot takes place in urban jungles where whiny millennials or latter day Gen X’ers complain about, well, everything while trying to hook up with ill-advised partners and/or bemoan the lack of hip new dining establishments in their neighborhoods. Making a sit-comish character study with a Civil War motif and possible violent deaths in the southern backwoods just doesn’t work real well as comedy, or a drama.

(IFC)

This article originally ran on gwinnettdailypost.com.

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