Pic seemingly targets those who regard the absence of dramatic structure as a sign of authenticity.
Vagueness is the hallmark of Marc Meyers’ sophomore outing, “Harvest,” about an Italo-Jewish family’s deathwatch around its charismatic patriarch (Robert Loggia). A venerable cast of Broadway vets interminably wanders through the clan’s Connecticut mansion with no apparent goal, carrying the remains of never fully explained resentments. Told through the eyes of a collegiate grandson (Jack T. Carpenter), the pic also loosely resembles a coming-of-ager, as generalized truths are passed down through generations. Pic seemingly targets those who regard the absence of dramatic structure as a sign of authenticity.
Characters include Barbara Barrie as grandpa’s beloved, dementia-afflicted wife; a couple of unmarried, unsuccessful sons (Arye Gross, Peter Friedman); an oversexed Latino housekeeper (Adriana Sevan); and a New Age daughter (Victoria Clark, gamely working overtime). Lenser Ruben O’Malley’s hand-held camera is constantly aquiver, as if readying itself for some resolution that never arrives, while Duncan Sheik and David Poe’s sad-sack songs compound the drawn-out suffering. In his cancer’s final stages, Loggia experiences a miraculous burst of energy, and joyfully bicycles around a light-filled seaside town. Ever so briefly, the film, like Loggia’s galvanizing geriatric, achieves clarity.