Linklater has an immediately noticeable style; those long takes that hold their composition, the winding, philosophical musings, the oddballs that are full of ideas. In Slacker, his debut feature, it is never the more evident and never the more effective - the camera glides effortlessly from one conversation to another, linking the events by the thinnest of threads to sketch a living breathing canvas of 90s Austin, Texas. Linklater was only a fresh-faced thirty year old at the time of release, certainly fitting into the age range of the so- dubbed 'slacker', something a dictionary would define as one who evades or shirks from their due responsibilities. It is here however that they take on a more positive connotation; we feel that many of these rambling characters have the skills or knowledge to succeed, but do not necessarily want to be shackled to that definition of success, or even feel that is is unattainable. Linlater's aptly named 'Should have stayed at bus station' sums it up in curiously thought-provoking monologue in which the taxi driver says not a word - how could anyone live their life the fullest and snap at every chance when there are so many minute, seemingly-innocuous choices to face that result in an unlimited range of outcomes?
Linklater is not entirely pessimistic about the question. It would be easy to provoke these youthful characters, to demean their ideals and laugh at their choices (or lack of choices). The film does not descend to that level, but rather walks along with them, listening like that taxi driver, or that friend that is subjected to a convoluted conspiracy theory on UFOs, or the girl who bumps into a former schoolmate and is bombarded with suggestions on the best books covering the JFK assassination conspiracies. They do not ridicule or snicker, but nod thoughtfully, if not politely, as if each of these ideas should be given their due screen-time. And there is a ease in the way that humour is incorporated too. A man is prophetically declared to be dead within a fortnight, and inexplicably starts to jaywalk a moment later. John Slate casually answers the age-old question of "What have you been up to?" with "Oh you know me, just been keeping up with my JFK assassination theories." An elderly man befriends his would-be burglar, showing a remarkable and affable knack for disarming and grabbing his attention, finding common ground, and then makes an offhand comment about Charles Whitman's massacre as the "city's finest hour".
And for all the attention that Linklater gives to the 'slacker' generation, he does afford some impartiality. There's the student that manages to invoke Freud while debating his choice to refuse to give change to a beggar, and is thoroughly scolded by his companion. And there is a genius moment where two youths talk about the futility of travelling overseas, as if the blossoming of TV culture makes such a pursuit pointless since it can be accessed from the comfort of your couch. The camera then smoothly switches to a passing pair, noticeably older, one of whom is describing an experience with a "great wall of incense and spices" on the coast of Bombay so vividly that it could not have been experienced from a TV screen, but in person right there on the ship. With a neat little metaphoric renewal sequence, a group convinces one of their friends that maybe, just maybe that girl wasn't 'the one'. It's increasingly rare to find a film so honest, so willing to expose a culture for more than just it seems. At times it will feel dated, but the stereotypes have grown along with age, and sprouted new facets. People are still haggling bogus products, still rattling on about conspiracies, still pondering the complexities of the universe like they are the first ones to pose such questions. But Slacker doesn't mind at all; it sits down for a while, and lends a listening ear.
Linklater is not entirely pessimistic about the question. It would be easy to provoke these youthful characters, to demean their ideals and laugh at their choices (or lack of choices). The film does not descend to that level, but rather walks along with them, listening like that taxi driver, or that friend that is subjected to a convoluted conspiracy theory on UFOs, or the girl who bumps into a former schoolmate and is bombarded with suggestions on the best books covering the JFK assassination conspiracies. They do not ridicule or snicker, but nod thoughtfully, if not politely, as if each of these ideas should be given their due screen-time. And there is a ease in the way that humour is incorporated too. A man is prophetically declared to be dead within a fortnight, and inexplicably starts to jaywalk a moment later. John Slate casually answers the age-old question of "What have you been up to?" with "Oh you know me, just been keeping up with my JFK assassination theories." An elderly man befriends his would-be burglar, showing a remarkable and affable knack for disarming and grabbing his attention, finding common ground, and then makes an offhand comment about Charles Whitman's massacre as the "city's finest hour".
And for all the attention that Linklater gives to the 'slacker' generation, he does afford some impartiality. There's the student that manages to invoke Freud while debating his choice to refuse to give change to a beggar, and is thoroughly scolded by his companion. And there is a genius moment where two youths talk about the futility of travelling overseas, as if the blossoming of TV culture makes such a pursuit pointless since it can be accessed from the comfort of your couch. The camera then smoothly switches to a passing pair, noticeably older, one of whom is describing an experience with a "great wall of incense and spices" on the coast of Bombay so vividly that it could not have been experienced from a TV screen, but in person right there on the ship. With a neat little metaphoric renewal sequence, a group convinces one of their friends that maybe, just maybe that girl wasn't 'the one'. It's increasingly rare to find a film so honest, so willing to expose a culture for more than just it seems. At times it will feel dated, but the stereotypes have grown along with age, and sprouted new facets. People are still haggling bogus products, still rattling on about conspiracies, still pondering the complexities of the universe like they are the first ones to pose such questions. But Slacker doesn't mind at all; it sits down for a while, and lends a listening ear.