Road to Nowhere

The phrase “based on a true story” has become such a crutch that it’s lost all meaning, given that a vast majority of films that are marketed with that description take tremendous liberties with the facts. Film’s a dramatic medium, and it’s not necessary to take a documentarian approach to stories that might make compelling narratives; the fault lies with manipulative marketing campaigns that attempt to imbue importance upon films that wouldn’t be noteworthy otherwise. Omaha, the feature debut of short film director Cole Webley, isn’t based on real subjects, but it was inspired by a real legal loop-hole in Nebraska state law. Webley’s speculation on what the legal precedent allowed for, and how it might have been taken advantage of, is far more interesting than a misshapen adaptation of an obscure true story would’ve been.

Omaha is led by John Magaro as Martin, a single father who’s taken his two children, Ella (Molly Belle Wright) and Charlie (Wyatt Solis), on an impromptu road trip from their home in Utah to Nebraska for unknown reasons. The film’s initiated with the uprooting of the kids’ living environment, but there’s enough background detail to understand their home had been foreclosed. Martin’s dealing with feelings of stress and depression, but he’s able to ease his children’s anxieties by framing their trip as the sort of adventure that they would’ve heard about in the books he used to read to them. Over the course of Omaha’s sparse 83 minutes, Martin’s intentions become evident, and lead to a devastating conclusion.

Martin, a man unequipped to care for his family, hasn’t made his decision in haste. Webley’s effective in never outwardly stating what his goals are, even if there are several instances in which Martin’s forced to give kernels of truth to his kids. At six years old, Charlie can only respond to what’s going on in the most reactionary ways, which means that Martin can soothe his confusion with a trip to a run-down McDonald’s. However, nine-year-old Ella is perceptive, and is able to see through the fallacy of her father’s excuses. It’s a smart way to show just how much development there is within the primary phase of child development, and the ramifications that these early experiences will have on their respective memories of the man who raised them. Even if they’re separated by only three years, Charlie and Ella will have radically different impressions of their father.

The context for which Omaha is based, which is saved for the film’s title card, is a Safe Haven law passed in 2008 that allowed for parents in Nebraska to drop off infants to be wards of the state without fear of penalties. The law was designed to assist parents who couldn’t reasonably account for their children’s safety and well-being to take responsible actions without dealing with the complexities of foster care, adoption, or the pressing demands of child services. The complication was that the word “infant” wasn’t specified in the legal text, meaning that Nebraska became a temporary destination for those that sought a consequence free means of child abandonment. "Consequence free” doesn’t mean “guiltless,” which is evident thanks to Magaro’s performance. Omaha is presumably set after Martin’s become dead-set on his goal because he hasn’t given himself any method to change course. He’s placed in a vulnerable position where he’s not able to explain to Ella and Charlie that this is likely the last time they’ll be in each other’s lives, even if his intention is to make the most of their trip.

To keep Omaha so streamlined and lacking in dramatic flourishes was the ideal way to contemplate the ethics of Martin’s decision. Webley had the foresight to know that announcing Martin’s goals would mean audiences would immediately judge him; it’s only after seeing the painful odyssey across the country that the weight placed upon him can be observed. Beyond the analysis of the law itself, which was amended shortly thereafter to specify that an “infant” is defined as a child under 30 days of age, there’s a debate to be held about the method of Martin’s actions. He doesn’t try to hide his mournful, solemn feelings from his children, but there’s also an implication that he’s being intentionally removed. One could speculate that Martin is resolved to leave as little of an impact on Ella and Charlie as possible so they can adapt to whatever new environment they are placed within; to have no memories of their biological father might be more appealing than painful ones. However, Martin’s no expert about psychology, and the sparse fractions of truth that Ella’s aware of suggest she recognizes that her father isn’t someone to be idolized.

The Safe Haven law was naively passed, and later put into effect, in July 2008. Even if the amendment was made shortly thereafter, the period in which the law was active happened to coincide with the final quarter of 2008, in which the economic recession exacerbated issues faced by those living within financially unstable situations. The political subtext of Omaha is subdued, and it would’ve been distracting for Martin to be confronted with someone of privilege or status. However, Webley is keen to note that the intensified pressure put upon Martin to accommodate the failing market led him to make split-second decisions, some of which he might regret.

Omaha is a tough sell, even after a year of films like Hamnet, Sentimental Value, Die My Love, and If I Had Legs I’d Kick You that examined the pressures of parenthood. There aren’t many upsides to the ending of Omaha, but the film does function as a vehicle for Magaro, an actor who’s been consistently forced to make the most of secondary parts. Just last year, Magaro had a brief, yet memorable role in Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind, and made a vocal cameo in the otherwise disastrous Materialists. Omaha isn’t likely to be a breakthrough hit, but it does make a case for Magaro’s talents that any directors should pick up on. That a film so downbeat and depressing is tolerable is a testament to his charisma.