Making a movie whose focus is an understated relationship requires an enormous amount of maturity, and an unwavering commitment to a "slow" movie. Fields falls short in both these departments. The main characters seem to lack internal consistency, and there is little awareness that the loss of a child is a distinctive kind of loss and is accompanied by a distinctive kind of grief. This is not just about sadness, it is about the realization that you have lost something that you have always expected to keep forever and you are reminded about this at every step of your day to day life. The fact that this loss was caused by a particular person makes it harder in some ways, because you feel that it could have been prevented, and easier in other ways, since you have a target for your rage.

Tom Wilkinson, as the faithful husband and fond father, is the only one who seems to be reacting to all these realities. For the rest, it seems that the actors' own intuition and Field's directorial insights could not fathom how such a tragedy could affect each person's life, and therefore, the couple's relationship with each other. As the tearful mother, Sissy Spacek tries out a laundry list of possible emotions, but doesn't quite get into any of them. It is impossible to empathize with her character, since we can barely get a feel for who she is. The only scene in which Ms. Spacek seems genuine is when the couple visit their friends' country home, and try to make normal conversation against the backdrop of the terrible tragedy. Wilkinson, on the other hand, looks preoccupied, distressed but unable to do anything about it. The sudden developments at the end of the movie threaten to upset the wonderful balance that Wilkinson has set up for his character, but he manages to keep an even keel. It seems like Field is unsure about what exactly his characters should be feeling, and has left it to the actors - Wilkinson, Spacey, and Marisa Tomei are all veterans - to figure it out. For any director, even with the best actors, this is a very risky approach to take.

As for the commitment to a deliberate pace, well, Field does so well in parts of the movie, and fails so utterly in other parts, that any film connoisseur will be incredibly frustrated. The natural beauty of Maine in late summer, and Antonio Calvache's skillful cinematography provide Field with an opportunity to tell the story with a minimum of words. Add to this, the original score by Thomas Newman, and the haunting melodies sung by the Newark, Vermont Balkan Girls Chorus, and you can construct the perfect shade of contemplation. Field rises to the occasion several times: the Labor Day concert feels like a funeral and seems to reflect a hovering sorrow, even though it is an end-of-summer celebration, the bird's-eye shots of Camden first hint at the serenity of life here, and then evoke the quietness after a particularly destructive storm. But on other occasions, he falters. There was really no need to show the dead boy, or to prolong the altercation between Wilkinson and Spacek, nor was there any need of bringing closure in the most blockbuster way. Field extricates himself from this last slip by ending the movie with a delicate yet evocative sequence.

The bottom line is that this movie had a lot of potential and achieved much of it. Its failures were obvious ones from someone who has no tradition of mature filmmaking to fall back on. The unevenness that characterizes In the Bedroom is simultaneously aggravating and provides a reason for hope. If Field has gotten so much right in his first try, maybe it won't take him long to figure the rest out. We wish him the best of luck.

Parama Chaudhury is a graduate student, an ex-writing instructor and a budding freelance writer, based in New York City.

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