A Perfect Day for Caribou Review: A Conversation Worth Having

Against the rugged Oregon backdrop, A Perfect Day for Caribou follows Herman and Nate over the course of a fateful day. Director Jeff Rutherford’s debut feature explores the complex bond between these two estranged men through long, soulful conversations and sweeping landscape shots that complement the film’s meditative pace.

Herman planned to end his lonely travels with suicide but received an unexpected call from his adult son, Nate. They arrange an impromptu meeting at a cemetery, where Nate brings along his young son, Ralph. But shortly after the reunion, Ralph wanders off unnoticed. His disappearance prompts Herman and Nate to work together to search the nearby fields and forests, retracing their steps as they open up about the years lost between them.

Through it all, DP Alfonso Herrera Salcedo’s gorgeous black-and-white cinematography captures the wide-open vistas that mirror the emotional distance these characters have placed between themselves and the world. But as Herman and Nate bond over sharing their pains and regrets from the past, it becomes clear their fates are still interconnected.

These flawed but deeply human performances show how even the most broken of family ties can be repaired, given patience and understanding. For fans of intimate indies, A Perfect Day for Caribou offers a look at reconciliation with humanity’s capacity for empathy, compassion, and renewal, even in the darkest of hours.

Past Pain Meets Present in Beautiful Black and White

The cinematography of A Perfect Day for Caribou is undoubtedly one of its biggest strengths. Shot entirely in rich black and white by DP Alfonso Herrera Salcedo and framed with a classic 4:3 aspect ratio, the film perfectly captures the loneliness and regrets that permeate Herman and Nate’s relationship.

The sweeping Oregon vistas are breathtaking, portrayed with an almost painterly attention to light and shadow. But these landscapes take on deeper meaning too; they become another melancholy character in a way, mirroring the emotional distance the father and son hold within. Drawing further parallels between man and nature, close-ups are remarkably rare. Instead, long shots and medium shots dominate, as if even the camera is reluctant to intensely scrutinize these flawed yet sympathetic characters.

This visual motif emphasizes how little Herman and Nate truly see of one another. Only through prolonged conversational exchanges do we start to understand the unseen past pains each harbors. And it’s here that the actors utterly shine, conveying lifetimes of regret through subtle facial expressions and body language alone.

By shooting in black and white, Rutherford also transports the viewer to a timeless place where present woes meet long-buried family troubles. There’s a quiet poetry to these frames that lingers long after the end credits. Overall, it’s clear that tremendous care was put into crafting images that complement the film’s intimate yet profoundly moving story of family, forgiveness, and finding connection in ourselves and others. For any cinephile seeking a unique visual feast, A Perfect Day for Caribou certainly satisfies.

Subtle Mastery of Father and Son

Jeb Berrier and Charlie Plummer give truly phenomenal performances in A Perfect Day for Caribou. What’s most impressive is how they convey so much emotional depth through the subtlest of means—a glance, a gesture. You really believe these men haven’t seen each other in years yet understand one another on a deeper level too.

Berrier imbues Herman with a weary sadness. This is a man who feels he’s failed at life, directionless like the Caribou in his story. But beneath the disappointment in himself lies a clear love for his son. Plummer matches this tone perfectly, as does Nate. Like father, like son, he too shows resentment masked by disappointment. Yet in taking care of young Ralph, a clear family means everything.

Their family history comes through in their physicality. Herman slouches under the weight of past mistakes while Nate walks with nervous, jittery energy, desperate not to repeat the same cycles. But both share a gentle care in how they interact with Ralph, conveying a desire to break intergenerational trauma despite detached parenting styles.

Not a word needs to be said for you to feel their profound understanding. A glance, and you see lifetimes of regret and love left unspoken. Its subtle mastery of craft is what makes their relationship so deeply moving. Through understated artistry, Berrier and Plummer lend A Perfect Day for Caribou its soul, honoring the messy complexity families often hold. Their performances will surely remain with you long after the end credits roll.

Destined to Repeat the Past?

This low-key drama delves into some heavy themes. What struck me most is how our past informs our present, whether we like it or not. Both Herman and Nate show the scars of prior generations.

Herman comes across as directionless, like those Caribou who don’t migrate. Apparently, his father met a watery end, and his brother jumped from a bridge. It’s not hard to see why Herman struggles. Nate, meanwhile, resents his wife and doubts his role as Ralph’s dad. It sounds like the same cycle is repeating.

Of course, broader social forces are at play too. These characters exist in a “vacuum of community” where people have lost obligations to one another. Out in those vast Oregon landscapes, everyone seems disconnected and dissatisfied. Herman and Nate search for Ralph with little urgency since human connection means so little. It’s melancholy stuff.

Their themes carry ominous undertones, too. When Nate confesses wishing harm upon his family, it shows how male self-pity can turn violent. Though, thankfully, this film doesn’t depict that, it hints at the culture that breeds such toxic attitudes. All in all, “Caribou” paints a bleak portrait of disenchantment.

While not for all tastes, I was moved by how delicately it tackled these substantial topics. The scenes between Herman and Nate felt authentic, like peeking into real people’s struggles. Even without neat resolutions, spending time with them gave me perspective on intergenerational trauma. Sometimes that’s all we can hope for—to better understand each other and break destructive patterns.

Connected Through the Ages

A few scenes really stood out to me in this film. One that had a big impact shows Herman, Nate, and little Ralph simply passing a soccer ball back and forth. No words are needed; you can feel the bond between these three generations in that moment.

It’s just a simple, beautiful glimpse into the family they could have been. With the camera panning out, there’s a piercing sadness too—at least they’ve lost. These kinds of small moments say so much about the characters.

Herman’s introductory monologue does brilliant setup work too. Even though he rambles, giving random life advice, you pick up on his drifting sense of directionlessness. This monologue perfectly sets the stage for the themes around fathers and sons.

I also liked the dreamy, fatalistic way the film portrayed their search for Ralph. It’s not urgent so much as inevitable, like they’re working through deeper issues. The scenes take on this surreal, melancholy tone as they comb the empty fields and woods.

A few other parts stuck with me too. When Herman almost gets shot, what a suspenseful surprise! And their talk with the caretaker revealed that Ralph has autism. Small interactions like that add texture and flesh out the characters.

So, in short, this film nails those quiet, introspective moments that really burrow under your skin. Scenes that leave lasting impressions long after the credits roll.

Breaking the Cycle

In conclusion, A Perfect Day for Caribou is one I’d highly recommend for viewers willing to sit at its meditative pace. Rutherford shows real skill in crafting such an intimate father-son story through mainly dialogue. Both Berrier and Plummer are phenomenal in their roles, conveying so much emotion through subtle gestures and expressions alone.

The black-and-white cinematography is just gorgeous, perfectly capturing the lonesome landscapes that reflect the isolation of the characters. These visuals give the searching scenes an almost dreamlike quality too. More than that, though, the film explores some truly meaningful themes around family relationships, the intergenerational effects of trauma, and trying to break unhealthy cycles.

It’s obvious a lot of thought and care went into peeling back the layers between Herman and Nate. While the ending isn’t overly conclusive, I think that’s okay—their journey of reconnection felt real. All in all, this independent debut from Rutherford shows he has a keen eye for directing natural performances and crafting stories that explore the depths of human connection. I’ll certainly be keeping an eye out for more of his films delving into similar interpersonal themes in the future. There’s clearly more meaningful work yet to come.