Going to their scheduled fly-fishing lesson alone, she meets Loren (Derrick Joseph DeBlasis), the community’s beloved outdoorsman who saddles between fishing lessons, rock climbing sessions, and dishwashing at a local spot. Yet despite capitalizing on a litany of opportunities in the town’s nature-forward gig economy, he’s barely scraping by, living in his SUV and showering with water out of a canteen that he rigs up in a tree. The two hit it off and spark up a fast-growing friendship that tiptoes the line of something more and calls their supposed contentment with their lives into question.
“Peak Season” investigates the principles of settling, romantically, personally, and otherwise. While love is at the center, foiling Max and Loren, the film delightfully takes its time fuzzing the lines between platonic and romantic connection, building the connection over its runtime rather than forcing a tired love-at-first-sight narrative. They rub shoulders at a Western bar where they have a meet-cute of sorts post-lesson. They giggle together at a rodeo. And realistically, they argue, aptly butting heads while trying to give Loren’s friend advice on the idea of settling down. While the theme of settling paves its way through the film, it does so rather simply, and we’re made hyper-aware of the point “Peak Season” wants to make.
Amy values comfort, while Loren puts stock in passion and freedom over stability, and this debate scene becomes a microcosm of the film’s dilemma. It makes us wonder: if we’re led to believe that Amy loves Max, then surely the thing to wonder about is if she likes him. However, some of the nuance of the juxtaposition in this love triangle is negated by the fact that while Loren has depth, Max is archetypically bad. We’re not given any reason to like him other than goodwill. He’s constantly selfish, demeaning, and corny (not even in a charming way).