This Must Be the Place (2011)

Cheyenne far, far from his element.

In his 3+ decades acting, Sean Penn has worked with a who’s who list of Hollywood directors: Woody Allen, Terrence Malick, David Fincher, Barry Levinson, Sydney Pollack, Alejandro Gonzalez Inirritu, Clint Eastwood, Kathryn Bigelow, and Oliver Stone. How many actors not named Cruise, Pitt, or DiCaprio claim such an impressive resume? He’s created memorable characters such as California surfer/stoner from “Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” a rogue cop in “Colors,” the ruthless murderer searching for redemption in “Dead Man Walking,” virtuoso guitar player Emmet Ray in “Sweet and Low Down,” a heart-transplant victim searching for answers in “21 Grams,” an Irish gangster in “Mystic River,” and the eponymous politician and gay civil-rights icon Harvey Milk. Among many, many other things. Few actors, regardless of profile, can match his range.

His latest memorable character is Cheyenne. Vaguely effeminate, outwardly timid yet strangely confident, a wealthy-but-fading rock-star, with Robert Smith’s fashion sense and Larry David’s sense of tact, Penn is fantastic in Paolo Sorrentino’s 2011 “This Must Be the Place.”

Cheyenne lives with his wife Jane (Frances McDormand), in an enormous Dublin mansion. She’s a volunteer fire fighter, who’s as open a book as Cheyenne is a puzzle. They’re an odd pair, with Cheyenne’s eccentricities offset by Jane’s apparent normalcy.

Estranged from his family for decades, Cheyenne receives a call from the States, saying his father is gravely ill. Upon his return, he learns something about his dad that sends him on a cross-country journey. Along the way, he learns not only unexpected facts about his family, but also himself. This sounds trite and melodramatic. It isn’t. Director Sorrentino plays much of the fish-out-of-water juxtaposition of weird-rock-star-in-mundane-middle-America for awkward laughs. But not cheap laughs. Cheyenne is wise and insightful, thoughtful and sensitive. His gaze is keen.

Penn is the reason to see the film. His Cheyenne is an amazing, fascinating creation. How is this possibly the same guy who was Spiccoli or Matthew Poncelet? Unlike other intentionally odd movie characters (Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka, for example), he doesn’t feel like a gimmicky caricature. They might share peculiar affects, odd speech intonation, and awkward ways of relating to strangers. However, Cheyenne is much more relatable, sympathetic, and kind. Most importantly, he feels real. He’s a fully formed, 3D character. His wife and few close friends all accept his quirks, idiosyncrasies and overt peculiarity. They love him not despite those traits, nor because of them. They merely accept him.

What’s most compelling is seeing Cheyenne interact with the outside world. Though he appears at first fragile, insecure and largely taciturn, he speaks his mind freely, often choosing to intentionally place himself in uncomfortable situations. Because we never know what to expect from him, the film resists becoming predictable, even when it is sentimental.

In the time since I saw “This Must Be the Place,” my admiration for Penn’s Cheyenne (and the film itself) has grown stronger. This is a phenomenal performance, one which elevates the picture above most of today’s cinematic offerings.