By Douglas Wood
Rated PG
Currently streaming on Apple TV+, YouTube, Tubi
Desert Bloom is the ironic name of the coming-of-age drama written and directed by Eugene Corr, set in 1951. The bloom in the title alludes to both the mushroom cloud of the atomic bomb as well as its bespectacled protagonist, Rose (Annabeth Gish), a thirteen-year-old girl blooming into adulthood in the desert on the outskirts of Las Vegas. The film has the attributes of a great novel, its large universal themes emerging via a human-scaled relatable narrative populated by flawed but compelling characters. With its powerhouse performances and evocative period detail, it’s a mystery why the film hasn’t become a modern classic and recipient of numerous awards.
Rose lives with her mother, Lily, two younger sisters, and her stepfather, Jack Chismore (Jon Voight), an alcoholic veteran suffering from PTSD who runs a gas station near an atomic test site. The family lives according to the volatile moods of Jack, who spends hours tied to a shortwave radio in a paranoid attempt to receive news that will protect his family from some unspecified threat. Whether railing against the Jews, the Communists or his own family, Voight’s riveting Jack is a scary, intimidating figure, and a tormented one. He has moments of calm in which he seeks forgiveness, but for much of the time, he paces like a caged animal and unfairly persecutes Rose for crimes she didn’t commit.
Annabeth Gish, in her first film role, brings much pathos to the role of gawky Ros,e who stands a head taller than her friends. She carefully calibrates her body language to suggest that she both wishes she could disappear and be noticed as “special.” It’s an impressive debut and Gish (no relation to Lillian) is able to move us with a hopeful, wan smile or a simple slump of the shoulders.
Rose’s life changes for the better when her mother’s floozy sister, Aunt Starr (Ellen Barkin) shows up. She’s a glamorous presence in the dusty Nevada town and the loving attention she lavishes on her niece does wonders for the girl’s self-esteem. Starr is there for forty-two days, the time it takes to establish residency for divorce, and when she’s not mentoring Rose on how to attract boys (falsies are mandatory), she’s on the prowl for a new man to call her own; she finds one almost immediately in the form of a wealthy Texan.
Barkin expertly uses her seductive curves and lascivious smile to grand effect, but while the performance is necessarily showy, she’s also able to subtly convey the pain and desperation beneath her bravado. She’s a western Blanche DuBois and like that iconic character, her provocative behavior incites the household, confirming our worst fears and those of Lily, played by JoBeth Williams (Poltergeist) in a role that allows her to display the full range of her considerable talent.
Unrelentingly cheerful, Lily lives by her corny platitudes—it’s less painful than confronting her ugly reality. “A girl that gets all wrapped up in herself,” she admonishes sulky Rose, “makes a mighty small package!” Lily works for the Atomic Testing Office and has inside information as to when the military conducts atomic-bomb testing in the desert region close to their home, although she’s not free to share it with anyone, much to the consternation of Jack.
Corr gets a lot of mileage out of our country’s naive attitude related to the atom bomb, which nicely mirrors Rose’s innocence before the truth of the adult world explodes in her face. There are ridiculous “duck and cover” drills, a radio announcer warning, “Remember, kids, don’t look at the flash!” and, at the climax, Lily waking up her daughters to watch the blast with, “Rise and shine, it’s A-bomb time!”
There is one character who seems to appreciate the gravity of both the nation’s and Rose’s loss of innocence—the Chismore’s benevolent Jewish neighbor, Mr. Mosol, played by the great 70’s character actor, Allen Garfield (Nashville, The Conversation). Unlike the community’s enthusiastic spectators, Mosol hustles his wife and daughter out of town before the first atomic test. He also threatens Jack when he discovers evidence of physical abuse on Rose.
Rose gets additional comfort from Robin (Jay Underwood), a kind classmate who lives in the trailer park next door, with whom she receives her first kiss. We’re grateful for his and Mosol’s presences in the story— they contribute to the characterization of a world that isn’t just cruel and bent on destruction but also full of humanity, worthy of saving. There are many joys to be had in Desert Bloom: Starr teaching Rose how to jitterbug in the living room; a lovingly recreated period spelling bee; and a priceless scene of the Chismore girls eking out a rendition of “I Love You a Bushel and a Peck” in sailor suits for their dad’s return home after drying out at the hospital.
The ending of Desert Bloom is fittingly ambiguous, neither upbeat nor doom and gloom. Not all conflicts are fully resolved but we get the feeling that the journey towards peace has begun. In the optimistic words of Lily: “Nothing dries faster than a tear!”