In the past several years, the screenwriting community has witnessed a proliferation of intersecting narratives, some dramatic and controversial alla Amores Perros, others quirky and absurd including I Heart Huckabees. Falling into this narrative structure, Jon Brence’s The Routes of Wild Flowers studies its four main characters through a lens of compassion, agreeing rather than mocking or objectively observing their struggles. In this sense, it’s a humane glimpse at the lonliness that people experience daily. In another sense, however, it’s a film that’s quite theatrical, creating a fourth wall between its story and audience, the one major drawback to an otherwise solid feature attempt from Brence and crew.

The story follows a band of the lonely–Boris, Otto, Janet and Bree– as each try to get to downtown Pittsburgh during a bus strike. Although each takes the same path, all hold separate intentions: Boris rushes to present a precious flower to his love interest Nadia before she returns to their joint homeland Russia; mother-daughter pair Janet and Bree makes their way into town for a talent show; and, Otto, by all accounts, just seems along for the ride. There’s an initial sadness and yearning in each of these four, emotions crafted subtly and softly in Harry Gerhardt’s performance as Boris. As the story progresses, however, the sadness and yearning makes way for connections, and this directly changes the character’s desires and moods.

At this point to critique the film is to address its editing choices, many of which directly contribute to its theatricality. Essentially, the flow of the film sub-divides into three sections: the first of archival footage, the second of straight compositions and the third of a split-screen effect with several stories playing at once. While the first two sections directly serve the narrative, the last gives critical information about the emotions of the characters that’s unintentionally negated by the split-screen effect. There’s simply too much going on here, all quite beautifully shot by cinematographer Kohta Asakura and lyrically directed by Jon Brence, for the audience to invest in all of the moments. Moreover, the acting most narratively poignant in the film runs in these sections. They’re meant to be lived in, and yet structurally, it’s impossible to do so, a fact which sets up the foundation for the fourth wall.

This has dual consequences: the first that it forces Asakura to heighten the intimacy of the straight compositions, a necessity that he fulfills perfectly in handheld shots but is unable to capture throughout the film’s numerous wide shots; the second that there’s quite a lot of pressure put on the actors to live up to the split-screen sequences, a challenge they aren’t allowed to embrace as the narrative only gives Bree (Clare Fogerty) the character arc opportunity to do so. Ultimately, it’s a matter of working with good material thrown into narrative shadow.

Overall, the film speaks of humanity and shows great promise for Brence as director, but it’s essentially a trial run for the solid work he’ll do later.

For more information on the film, visit www.theroutesofwildflowers.com or friend the film at www.myspace.com/routesofwildflowers.