45365: A Film About Place

45365 is the filmic equivalent of an oil portrait of a perfectly average middle-aged woman, painted by a skilled, passionate artist. There's nothing distinctive about the subject, but it's rendered in such detail that it's hard not to find it beautiful.

45365 is the zip code of Sidney, Ohio. Sidney is one of those small towns semi trucks barrel their way through and where trains stop to be filled with grain. It's the sort of place where a hog race is considered the highlight of a summer, where high school football regularly makes the evening news, where an ex-4H queen can trade her past glories for a good husband. In other words, people bypass Sidney unless they live there. It's a tightly knit community: at its local jail, a prisoner and his guard have a jovial conversation about their respective dinner plans even as the guard's cuffing the prisoner. The men in Sidney have the same functional haircut, and the ladies all have the same build. What connects these people is their location.

While it's not fictional, we wouldn't call 45635 a documentary. It's shot without commentary. There's barely any soundtrack to speak of. No one acknowledges the camera. We see the same faces and places from time to time -- a high school football coach, a barbershop, cop, a fisherman and his son, an ex-con and his wife, a farmer -- but we don't follow anyone long enough to identify with them. We never learn anyone's name, except that of a judge campaigning for re-election. Meaning is implied in 46365, not broadcasted. The filmmakers present their subjects without judgment. Things just happen in front of the camera, and the audience is left to determine their own response.

We see some happy things: wedding preparations and a high school football coach's motivational speech before an important game. Three middle-aged couples square-dancing atop a parade float. An old farmer laughing a high-pitched laugh. We see some painful things: the calm moment in which a driver's sobriety is tested by a cop. A mother yelling at her son for stealing her pills. Work, home, social life, public life. This isn't boring. It's meditative.