Catching Dust
Written and Directed by Stuart Gatt
Starring Erin Moriarty, Dina Shihabi, Ryan Corr, and Jai Courtney
Unrated
Runtime: 1 hour, 36 minutes
In theaters and on digital platforms August 23

by Megan Robinson, Staff Writer

Machismo reigns supreme in the arid, abandoned desert commune in Texas where our leads reside. With no society for miles, Clyde (Jai Courtney) and Geena (Erin Moriarty) live a quiet, conservative life in a trailer as rugged country man and demure but artistic housewife. The difference in their statures and appearance is jarring, frightening in the images it conjures in the mind of what might become of Geena, or what might have happened before the film’s beginning. But Catching Dust leaves too much for the mind to imagine, making what could be thoughtful and interior character studies into opaque misfires with much to be desired.

Clyde and Geena have lived off the land in the Carl Madison Commune in Texas for quite some time now. Though Clyde’s daily routine of hunting and foraging keeps him busy, Geena longs for a life outside of the trailer she deems a “cage,” as she had been promised that someday they would return to their normal lives. Excitement and confusion ensues as a couple from New York, Andy (Ryan Corr) and Amaya (Dina Shihabi), arrive in the empty commune. Though Amaya insists on heading back to New York after realizing the “bustling commune” they found in a library directory is completely empty save for the turned-paranoid couple of Clyde and Geena, Andy insists they remain for their 20-day vacation. The four, all adjusting to new circumstances, become increasingly at odds as their isolation persists and fear grows.

The desert always has the potential to look beautiful in cinema, and Catching Dust is no exception to this rule. Writer-director Stuart Gatt captures the desert in all its stifling heat and vivid beauty, the desert location looking particularly beautiful during all-encompassing purple sunsets. The film has a gritty texture that mimics the rough sand of the desert, just as well reflecting the hardened and oppressive masculinity that seems to be the law of the land. Even nighttime scenes make great use of lighting from the commune sign, trailer lights, and fires, making even tense scenes in the dead of night come alive with an eerie vibrance. The actors’ faces are especially striking whether in the harshness of the desert sun or highlighted by bright, angular artificial light. The grit of Courtney and Moriarty, from their performances to the way the camera captures them, even down to their clothes and makeup, define the setting perfectly.

Gatt’s script, however, leaves much to be desired. The look of everything is there to establish and upend the commune, with a clear visual divide between the rugged green trailer of Clyde and Geena, and the wooden, sharp rectangle of a trailer Andy and Amaya arrive in. They sit just across from each other, mere yards away, and yet it feels like crossing an ocean to go from one to the other. While the visual contrast between the couples is laid bare, their own characterization is lacking. Oftentimes characters are hard to reach, with Clyde especially filling a stoic and silent cowboy archetype whose behavior borders on erratic thanks to a paranoia he has essentially made up to maintain this life away from civil society. 

Geena and Amaya are especially ill-defined as people, defined more so by events that happened to them rather than their own response to said events. They’re not passive, and in fact they tend to take action far more than the men who aim to control them. Yet it’s “womanly” troubles that define their lives without building a personality for them; from the regressive life of a housewife forced on Geena to the loss of Amaya’s child, both feel like archetypes of women rather than nuanced portraits of two women trapped in the same sexist world despite their different means and upbringings. Gatt aims for this message to come across to highlight the pervasive ways in which patriarchy is inescapable even in the modern day, but without the depth to back up Geena and Amaya, they’re nothing more than their circumstances. Geena may be the central character, and Moriarty is engaging as a southern, trapped housewife, but everything she says and does are more the product of the script demanding it, rather than natural steps she would take based on her characterization.

While the ideas of Catching Dust are clear, there’s a lack of authenticity that makes the film hard to swallow. It’s never outlandish, and certainly not sneering with irony, but it comes from archetypes and ideas others have explored far more successfully, taking the most exciting bits from all kinds of art to create something that should be meaningful. It’s admirable to paint a portrait of those on the margins of society, especially as the cinematic landscape more and more favors the lives of the rich and famous as written by the rich and famous, but where’s the heart? Does it matter if the men learn their lesson or not by the film’s end if the film itself struggles to define its women? Once you move past the surface of the striking visual representations of these couples, what lies beneath? Catching Dust, in its moody glory, believes in these characters’ inner lives and struggles, but does nothing to let the audience in on these secrets beyond visual signifiers and basic archetypes, with just a hint of the didactic melodrama for good measure.