The circumstances of the long-distance relationship between Erin (Katie Aselton) and Charlie (Daveed Diggs) are a little atypical in “Magic Hour,” but director-star Aselton and co-writer Mark Duplass have long been able to cook up tantalizing, high-concept hooks for dramas about mental strain. It seems as if a weekend in Joshua Tree might offer a rare, in-person respite for the couple. But the rendezvous shows they couldn’t be further apart, setting up an even bigger drama at the heart of Aselton’s occasionally frustrating yet considerably daring drama.
Neither Erin or Charlie will mention exactly what’s driven a stake between them after Erin’s longtime friend (Brad Garrett) hands her the keys to his desert abode, and their vague use of “it” can irritate in the time it takes to get to the film’s big reveal. However, “it” certainly has to be big when the two would seem to be inseparable in spirit, if not geographically. The two could easily be labeled as codependent, a term that could be unhealthy but is made to sound romantic when Charlie wonders aloud if they fit the bill after filming a happy birthday greeting for Erin (Katie Aselton). He’s uncertain of how apropos it is himself, yet the brutal honesty involved in acknowledging he truly feels he’s nothing without her is lovelier than simply sending her a song, even if it’s also slightly distressing.
Erin and Charlie start out their weekend by attempting to get some fresh air and wandering through the desert — perhaps a bit of an obvious metaphor for a couple navigating treacherous terrain. But “Magic Hour” moves inside pretty quickly once Charlie casually lets slip the issue that has torn them apart, a not particularly shocking revelation when there’s only so many tragedies the couple could encounter. But it gives the film a jolt, as Aselton inventively envisions what it may look like to lose a partner she planned to spend the rest of her days with. Using the traditional Duplass production mode that requires only the single setting of a house and cell phone videos to pull off, the film goes every which way as Erin faces a flood of conflicting emotions, caught in the push-and-pull between moving on when Charlie is still very much a part of her life.
Aselton stacks the deck against her own character with the inspired casting choice of Diggs, the liveliest presence imaginable and too warm to easily cut ties with. The actor also gets a few explicit opportunities to remind viewers he was a part of the original cast of “Hamilton.” “Magic Hour” sometimes recalls the more surreal Dogme 95 entries, such as “The Celebration” and “The King is Alive,” when the film embraces basic techniques to bring out the frisson within the couple. Sharp editing lets Charlie slip in and out of scenes as he does in Erin’s mind, while the use of ambient light and cinematographer Sarah Whelden’s intimate camerawork are skillfully employed for intensity.
The unexpected formal execution draws the excitement out of what’s mostly a straightforward narrative. The collision isn’t always copasetic, as when a parade of visitors make their way to Erin as she tries to heal and gradually starts to engage with the outside world again. A check-in by a rowdy group of drag queens can feel like a forced bit of fun. A later gift of a massage from her host succeeds in allowing Erin to remember what it’s like to be touched, but in frenzied crosscuts between her memory and the present moment, the scene seems a bit overworked, particularly in comparison to how simply and effectively Aselton can usually get a feeling across from the film’s strong performances and the expressive camerawork. However, they’re still admirably well-intended efforts to give a tactility to the elusive and unpredictable nature of a connection fraying with a loved one. For a film about letting go, much of “Magic Hour” is bound to stick.
