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Sword of Trust (2019)

  • Writer: Jess and Sam
    Jess and Sam
  • May 23, 2020
  • 4 min read

Cynthia and Mary show up to collect Cynthia's inheritance from her deceased grandfather, but the only item she receives is an antique sword that was believed by her grandfather to be proof that the South won the Civil War.

Jess’ Review

Curmudgeonly pawn-shop owner, Mel (Marc Maron), is approached by a young couple (Jillian Bell and Michaela Watkins) who are looking to sell Cynthia’s, late grandfather’s sword. It’s not the most exciting plot, despite some later scenes of threat - but it’s different. It’s unconventional compared to the high-octane, nonstop action stories we’re so accustomed to seeing. So in this instance, it was refreshing to see a plot dabbling in normalcy without the need for theatrics. Though admittedly, these creep in towards the finale.


Maron is excellent, comedic in his deadpan delivery, but a hint of rawness and vulnerability elevates his performance. Having only ever seen him in stand-up (which I highly recommend), I was impressed by this turn. The supporting cast of Bell, Watkins and Mel’s assistant, Nathaniel (John Bass) are all equally stellar. They balance humour and drama nicely, though the tone isn’t particularly heavy to begin with. Some interesting themes rise to the surface, but the tone remains light. It’s funny in a subtle way, and upping the intensity would threaten to overwhelm it.


Director and writer Lynn Shelton, a long-time collaborator with Maron and well-established television director, shot Sword of Trust in twelve days. This is remarkable. And upon this discovery, evokes a greater level of admiration in me. There was a certain charm to the film, and the homegrown-vibe that I get from it’s creation process really cements that feeling. It’s endearing, authentic. She was a talented woman, even taking to the screen in a regretfully fleeting role as Mel’s ex-girlfriend, Deirdre. Lynn Shelton passed only a few days ago and clearly this comes as a great loss to the industry.


Admittedly some of the politics within this film go over my head. But thankfully Sam was on hand to provide context and tidbits of information regarding American history. It’s a clever film, and an even smarter comedy. And I appreciate it’s attempts to dissect a number of overarching, and somewhat uncomfortable themes. White supremacy, redemption, truth, consequences, conspiracy theories - to name a few. However, regrettably, I feel that they only scrape the surface. Still, it’s thought-provoking enough to provide the audience with some takeaway.


Sword of Trust was generally a good film. I think it was made with a great deal of care given the time constraints, and explored its characters artfully. The comedy is strong, albeit measured, though somewhat marred by cliche, one-dimensional villains in later acts. But for me, it’s forgivable. Would I have liked to take a deeper dive into the themes and ideologies - absolutely! But on reflection, I enjoyed the ride. And I’m content to let these ideas simmer within the confines of my own head in the aftermath.

7/10

 

Sam’s Review

I picked Sword of Trust on a whim. I’d seen it previously and felt that it was a clever but misunderstood film that largely went under the radar. After watching, I realised that writer-director Lynn Shelton, who also played the troubled Deirdre, had passed away a week ago today. And for reasons unbeknownst to me, the news hit me like a truck. I am heartbroken for Marc Maron, her frequent collaborator and romantic partner. I rushed to listen to his podcast WTF with Marc Maron, to get a feel for how he was doing. Hearing his voice crack as he holds back tears, explaining his love for Lynn with such sincerity is both brave and devastating. I hope that Lynn is at peace, and her loved ones find it.

The film meanders through its story. Though it touches on laborious, Jess began to lose interest at points, I welcomed the chance to sit with Maron’s character Mel, a bitter, possibly seedy, definitely sharp pawn shop owner. The role is perfect for him, he’s essentially playing a version of himself, and performs outstandingly, surprisingly able to capture a lingering sadness in the more emotional moments. Anchored by a profound Maron, the entire cast are brilliant. Jillian Bell and Jon Bass bring a charming innocence to their respective roles, while Michaela Watkins, along with Maron, bring a distrusting world-weariness. They compliment each other fantastically.

Sword’s concept is as intriguing as it is ludicrous. Very. And even that is gifted, as it underlines the theme of the film. It questions the validity of truth, pondering which sources we can trust to provide us with information. The theme of truth, and exploration for the truth, while dealt with delicately, and often hidden behind Maron’s deadpan sarcasm, is incredibly potent considering we are living in a world of ‘fake news’. Bass’ Nathaniel states how we are preconditioned to certain ‘truths’, which is a scarily accurate reflection. And I paused when Mel states how lies “erode away the real truth.” It’s a terrifying notion, especially as it’s correct.

It’s a clever film, skilfully written. Not only is the theme thought-provoking and handled brilliantly, but the dialogue is an intricate mess of realism. It’s smart without being conceited, and holds a wittiness that made me want to rewatch one of Maron’s specials.


There is a bleakness to the cinematography, with its dull palette, that encapsulates authenticity. Sword’s is raw. Maron’s guitar is the only backtrack that I noticed throughout the film. The layered dialogue that merges what feels like two separate scenes is brilliant, somehow you can glean all the information, instead of it being a jumbled mess. The whole thing was shot in twelve days, and I get the feeling that there was a tender warmth behind this film. But also, true creativity.


A sadness lingers beneath moments, and that’s embodied by Mel and Deirdre’s interactions. Silence replaces the usual emotional backtrack, creating a void, leaving only their words behind. Paired with the sublime acting, and the willingness to remain in the silence, it creates some powerful stuff. Many filmmakers would rush to make noise, not realising the information we can glean from something as simple as stillness. And there is such a real beauty within it.


Stellar acting, quietly dynamic dialogue, and sarcastic but intelligent laughs. It’s slow, but there is (ironically) such truth to this film that I am OK with that.

8/10

 
 
 

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© by Jess Stevens and Sam Collins.

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