As a writer and director, Oren Moverman has remained a quiet yet essential contributor to the prestige dramatic film. His Oscar nominated turn for The Messenger and this year’s evocative work on Love and Mercy are two prominent examples of his craftsmanship. His latest film, Time Out of Mind, flew under the radar at Toronto last year and is now receiving a small theatrical release.

Richard Gere plays George, a homeless man falling under the usual parameters. When we meet him, he is sleeping in the bathtub of an apartment where the tenant has been evicted. The film’s style parallels the homeless experience: it isn’t driven by ever-changing drama, instead it unfolds at a slow and occasionally monotonous pace. As a director, Moverman is deliberate with his camera work, choosing to shoot a major percentage of the movie through glass or other obscurities looking at George, further establishing him as an “other” and the audience as outsiders looking at the homeless lifestyle. He favors longer camera setups and only cuts when he has to. The result is mixed: sometimes this works extremely well at capturing the essence, other times it heads more towards tedium. In the final shot of the film, this technique pays off like never before.

Moverman is deliberate with his camera work, choosing to shoot a major percentage of the movie through glass or other obscurities looking at George, further establishing him as an “other” and the audience as outsiders looking at the homeless lifestyle.

Richard Gere is a hard sell as a homeless man: his strikingly handsome visage doesn’t appear to be weathered by the streets. At times, this is addressed: a social worker asks how a handsome man like him doesn’t have a spouse. Ultimately, little effort is made to establish how his clean-cut nature ended up amongst the more battered homeless population. At one point, Gere’s character wakes up on the streets without a shirt on, and looks as if he is getting out of bed like the way any man does every morning. Actors playing against type are a pleasure to watch: in this case, it doesn’t quite stick the landing.

Moverman’s treatment of the subject is never degrading or attempting to be a savoir toward the underlying homeless population. The decision to take place in the spring instead of the winter fortunately avoids the usual convention of the homeless person freezing during a blizzard: the homeless population struggles to find a place to sleep in all four seasons. In short, he treats the subject with respect and recognition that this individual film does not encapsulate the entire population’s experience.

Time Out of Mind may be a film that parallels its protagonist: it becomes lost and anonymous amidst the more flashy crowd. It does represent a filmmaker whose craft is actively working and still awaits a definitive project. In the mean while, I will remain intrigued to see what Moverman writes and directs next: there is a masterstroke still on the way.

Time Out of Mind is now playing at the Landmark Theatre.