A Love Song opens with images of small, colorful flowers breaking their way out of hard, dried, cracked earth. It’s an obvious metaphor: there’s beauty under weathered facades, like the face of Faye (Dale Dickey), a lone woman living in a camper against the backdrop of what looks like the Paramount Pictures mountain. Faye catches crawdads in the lake, surviving on them and coffee. She identifies birdcalls. She listens to bluegrass on a crackly, analog radio. She fixes her own binoculars. And she waits. Somebody’s going to meet her here, maybe. She won’t move until he does, but she has no idea when that might be.
For a while, writer-director Max Walker-Silverman revels in the minimalism of her routine. It’s a simple life, interrupted occasionally by oddballs from other campsites, including the young girl