One of my favorite films, and my absolute favorite animated film, is an oldie called The Point. This little fable, featuring incredible music by Harry Nilsson, carried a message about tolerance, wrapped in the message that "you don't have to have a point, to have a point..." It makes more sense when you see the flick, but I wonder if Director Matt Aselton wasn't channeling a bit of The Point when he made Gigantic. The film (Gigantic) doesn't have much of a point, which isn't to say that it doesn't have a point. Like much of the fare you're likely to sample across the indie film world, Gigantic is mostly about itself, and in the off chance you connect with any of the characters, about the emotional ride taken by the people depicted in their various roles.

Telling the story (although I use this word liberally and incorrectly, considering the overall lack of narrative structure throughout Gigantic) of a mattress salesman and the daughter of a rich urbanite sweeping each other off their mutual feet, Gigantic sounds more like a romantic comedy. There's actually very little comedy, and precious few romantic moments in the film. The message seems to be that people caught in the script of their individual lives often have the impression of falling in love, and perhaps feel an obligation to respond in kind when faced with what Blanche Dubois called the kindness of strangers. Are the boy and girl in Gigantic really destined to be together, living the happy-ever-after existence of his parents, or are they destined for something darker like the distant post-schism lifestyle of her parents? Or, are they headed for something darker? Or, is it all a mattress-store dream?

Paul Dano and Zooey Deschanel performed their parts well enough to convince us they wanted to realize Aselton's vision on celluloid, but they didn't work for me as authentic characters. Non-indie royalty like John Goodman and Ed Asner skate through their scenes with more than enough presence to remind us why we aren't falling in love with Dano and Deschanel, and there's just very little to keep interest alive through even the relatively short hour and a half. Aselton pushes our buttons effectively enough in some scenes, especially when he introduces the notion that Dano may be more or less than he seems on the surface. At the end of Gigantic, we're not left with a sense of closure, but that's no different than most indie films. The difference is that we're not left with any residual emotion, nor are we impressed by Gigantic as especially thought-provoking. Good casting, good production, editing, and filming give the impression that some serious time and effort went into the film, but the emotional take-away is anything but Gigantic.