Small Engine Repair alternates between zooming and sputtering

 

Based on the 2011 play of the same name, Small Engine Repair concerns three lifelong buddies, Frank Romanoski (John Pollano), Terrence Swaino (Jon Bernthal), and Packie Hanrahan (Shea Whigham) reuniting. Separated during three months of not talking to each other after a bar fight went sour, the trio is spending an evening in Romanoski's garage watching a fight, eating steaks, and reminiscing about older times. Tensions occasionally bubble in their interactions, but things seem to be going relatively OK...until Romanoski reveals that he's called a nineteen-year-old named Chad Walker (Spencer House) to come by and sell him some molly. The introduction of this new kid will bring new tensions to the table and not just because Packie gets a little too eager to try out the molly for himself.

Small Engine Repair isn't just a restrained affair meant to be a showcase for its lead actors and doable to realize as a stage production. It's also an exploration of toxic masculinity and specifically how cyclical this behavior is, how grasping it can be as much a survival technique as anything else. These three guys are prone to listing their tempers and engaging in physical altercations with each other, let alone with just random people that irk them. Writer/director John Pollano doesn't vilify these lead characters but he also isn't letting them off the hook either. We're clearly supposed to be terrified of how quickly chummy interactions can go sour so fast.

One of the most interesting explorations of this theme comes in a mid-movie anecdote from Hanrahan regarding a memorable childhood event he, Romanoski, and Swaino shared. Said anecdote concerns the trio's fathers reacting with grave disappointment to the Red Sox losing the World Series and, after the kids spot one of their dads crying in the kitchen, all three dads proceed to beat their offspring. An instance of vulnerability is immediately followed up by a reassertion of stereotypically "male" dominance. The focus of the story for Hanrahan, though, is that the trio managed to escape their dads, steal some Scotch from a nearby table, and then drink it in the woods. 

All three grown men cheering while reminiscing on the story and how the Scotch "tasted like shit" provides a chilling dissonance between what these guys lingered on and the physically abusive trauma they experienced. No wonder all three have grown up believing violence is the go-to tool to solve any problem. Pollano's thoughtful writing here imbues nuance into guys that could've been insufferable without diluting the sting of their actions. When they lash out or act in a toxic manner, we're supposed to feel it. These two details help lend a compellingly unpredictable quality to the best initiate conversations in Small Engine Repair, especially since the acting is predominately strong. 

Unfortunately, Small Engine Repair begins to sputter once the final half-hour kicks in and a fourth member of the principal cast enters the picture. Without stepping into spoiler territory, Walker's presence in the story stirs up extreme forms of conflict from the three leads, particularly from Romanoski. Up to this point, the screenplay has gotten a lot of mileage out of offhand exchanges and sudden bursts of aggression. To suddenly dovetail into a more traditional story where there are clear-cut protaganists and antagonists to deal with, it's just not playing to the movie's strengths and the more thoughtful qualities of the narrative get lost in the process.

Once characters, especially Walker, begin just shouting their motivations or internal thoughts at one another, I was reminded of much better translations of stage plays to movies that understood how leaning into the intimate nature of their source material can be a boon, not a curse. Think of how much power One Night in Miami gets from suggesting violence will occur against Malcolm X rather than flat-out showing it. Small Engine Repair could've taken a cue from those kinds of productions in executing its final half-hour, which is full of shouting matches and other overt forms of characters expressing themselves. In a stage play format, these elements could have an emotional immediacy to them as you watch them play out live before your eyes. In the context of a film, they just don't work as well.

Part of the issue too is how tidy everything ends up being. Despite the pervasive grimness of the piece and some insightful examinations of the cyclical nature of toxic masculinity, I was shocked that Small Engine Repair ended with more people united than forever alienated. The earlier flashes of complex grimness are traded away for a finale that's so digestible there's even room for Hanrahan and Swaino to share a quippy exchange over the concept of a workplace nickname. Small Engine Repair had me bracing myself for its story to go to quietly harrowing places, not wrap things up in a bow. 

Meanwhile, a pervasive problem throughout the film is Pollono's direction (his first time helming a feature film) could use some polishing, particularly anytime he's tasked with depicting characters engaging in hand-to-hand squabbles. On the other hand, the acting in Small Engine Repair proves to be one of the film's strongest suits, particularly Shea Whigham channeling big Phillip Seymour Hoffman energy in his detailed work as Hanrahan. The performers in Small Engine Repair had me constantly engaged, but the erratic nature of the script left me disappointed. This is one movie that needed to commit more fully to the darkness of the tale it's telling, especially since the flashes of complexity we do get show that this cast & crew are capable of handling such multifaceted storytelling.