Minor Ephiphanies, Major Achievements: Mike Mills and His Feature Debut Thumbsucker

Words: Holly Willis

Photo: Todd Cole

Four years ago, I stopped by the Directors Bureau in Hollywood to interview Mike Mills, the creator of a long list of acclaimed music videos (for Air, Divine Comedy and Yoko Ono, among others), as well as of several short films, including Deformer and The Architecture of Reassurance. Mills' art school background initially led him into illustration and graphics, which tended to be hand-drawn, but he also makes commercials, and indeed, has become one of the leading makers of the "anti-commercial."

During that interview, Mills mentioned that he'd begun setting up his first feature, an adaptation of Walter Kirn's coming-of-age novel Thumbsucker. Since then, Mills has been working -- slowly and steadily -- on the film, which follows the travails of 17-year-old Justin Cobb and his family as the hapless boy tries half-heartedly to "fix" his oral obsession by replacing it with a host of amusing alternatives, including Ritalin.

When the screenplay was finally ready, Mills cast a terrific Lou Taylor Pucci as the confused Justin, Tilda Swinton as his empathic mother, Vincent D'Onofrio as his gruff father, and Keanu Reeves as the family dentist/guru, rich with spiritual and psychological guidance. The often-moving story captures a family trying to figure things out -- kids and parents alike question who they are. Mills' trademark affection for the fluidity and openness of adolescence is evident; the music, most of it by The Polyphonic Spree, is terrific; and there are visual quirks, too, as when Justin appears to hover in some nether space for a moment. But the film, which will premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, is remarkable mainly in the way it reveals just how much Mills wants to find a way to communicate the minor epiphanies that help us comprehend what's real, what?s important.

While Mills will soon find himself girded with a phalanx of publicists and producers in Park City and the subject of distributors' opinions as they ponder his marketability, the artist remains focused on humility and the desire to stay real. Already evident four years ago, this attitude has added poignancy now -- Mills' father passed away earlier this year, and questions about art and life sit very close to feelings of loss and what?s-it-all-about angst.

Strangely enough, some of these questions seem to be answered by the canines trotting through Mills' Silver Lake house, a beautiful ? but not precious ? '50s style modern place rife with wood and windows. Zoë is a wolf-like hound, lithe and driven to fetch with indomitable energy while Bowser, who used to belong to Mills' father, is a spindly-legged old Jack Russell terrier with matted fur and terrible teeth. Where Zoë is intense and focused, Bowser, says Mills, "lives life at 200 percent," taking deep pleasure wherever he can find it. Scratch his head and he promptly flips over, inviting you to rub his splotchy pink belly.

With mint tea and some apples, we venture out to the backyard and sit under the trees. Zoë brings a stick, figuring the interview is really an excuse to play. She drops it, and then freezes, poised to pounce. And Bowser? He lolls languidly in the sun.

Read Holly Willis' interview with Mills about the making of Thumbsucker in the current RES.