Film Review: Hell or High Water (2016)

If this summer's film slate of superheroes and reboots and sequels, all of them CGI-heavy, has tired you out, cast your eyes on Hell or High Water. It's a modern western set in the driest, most destitute corner of Texas that borrows tropes from the horse-powered westerns of yesteryear to tell the story of two brothers who rob banks to pay off the mortgage on their mother's land.

The brothers are Tanner and Toby. Tanner (Ben Foster) is a career criminal and all-around hell raiser. Toby (Chris Pine) is a divorced dad who needs to pay off the mortgage on his late mother's land. The land isn't worth much, but the oil underneath it, which has just been discovered, is worth $50k a month. But if he can't pay off the mortgage the bank will get the land and the oil. Toby has not, we gather, been a good husband or father, so as an act of redemption he wants to put the land in a trust for his kids once he's cleared the mortgage. The amount he needs isn't much, but it involves robbing banks in a variety of flyblown towns across west Texas. Texas Ranger Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) is soon on their trail.

What's striking about this film is its conscious effort to harken back to the American filmmaking aesthetic of the late 1960s and early '70s. Films like Bonnie and Clyde and Badlands are obvious visual influences, also the use of local, non-professional actors in small roles. Director David Mackenzie has clearly absorbed the feel of those films and tried to bring them back to life, particularly in the handling of the brothers. Tanner and Toby are the kind of antiheroes that were common in the '70s. They aren't well-equipped in temperament or skills to deal with normal life and have ended up living on the fringes of society, which also makes them unconsciously anti-establishment, a key element of the films of that era.

The most modern aspect of the film is its emphasis on the poverty and despair gripping this part of world. Billboards for payday loan  and debt relief companies dot the landscape, most businesses are shuttered, and the population seems either very old or very unemployed. This is Tea Party America, even though the film never makes any direct political statements along these lines. The bad guys, as in so many old westerns, are the banks, who are eagerly foreclosing on anyone and everything. A briefly glimpsed piece of graffiti at the beginning of the film neatly captures the film's political viewpoint: THREE TOURS OF IRAQ BUT I NEVER GOT A BAILOUT. Sadly, the film is content to just blame the banks rather than drilling down deeper to the politicians who are the banking industry's enablers. The western tropes are cleverly woven through the film, especially during a climactic bank heist that results in an impromptu posse chasing the brothers out of town, and, like the legendary James brothers, Toby and Tanner receive protection from some of the locals. Nobody likes banks.

But this isn't a perfect film. The character of Tanner is too much of a generic crazy cowboy, and Ben Foster overacts accordingly. Chris Pine as Toby is fine, but it's not a very demanding role since he's mostly asked to just look hurt or depressed. Although kudos to Pine or the director for the visual motif of Toby constantly hanging his head down as though literally beaten down by Fate. Only at the very end do we see him standing proud. There are some plot holes, and some awkward and superfluous scenes (did we really need to see Tanner bonking a hotel receptionist?) that mar what's otherwise a lean and efficient film. Part of the blame for that, aside from the script, might be due to the director being a Brit. This kind of gritty, regional story is hard for outsiders to get right when it comes to the details, and Mackenzie is sometimes tone deaf when it comes handling his Texan characters. On the plus side, you can count on Jeff Bridges getting an Oscar nom for best supporting actor.

Film Review: Badlands (1973)

This is the one that set the template for films about sociopathic loners going on bullet-riddled road trips. Badlands spawned a flock of B-movie clones, as well as Natural Born Killers and True Romance. The last film amounted to a homage to Badlands, right down to re-using the original's signature musical theme, Gassenhauer by Carl Orff. The story is loosely based on the real-life killing spree by Charles Starkweather (how could he not be a killer with a name like that?) and his girlfriend Caril Fugate in the 1950s. Martin Sheen plays Kit, a loner who starts courting Holly, a 14-year old girl living with her father in small town South Dakota. Her father forbids the relationship and Kit kills him. He and Holly then camp out in the woods before driving across the Dakotas and Montana, evading pursuers and killing those who get in their way. They're finally caught in Montana and taken back to South Dakota.

This was director Terrence Malick's debut film and it was a groundbreaker in almost every way. One of the most notable aspects of the film is its non-judgemental tone. Malick's script and direction doesn't work to demonize Kit, instead he makes the film's tone match Kit's detached, unemotional personality. It's as though Kit is doing the directing. Kit is distracted and fascinated by oddities, trivialities and death. When we first see him he's working on a garbage truck and is examining a dead dog with a kind of bored curiosity. As he continues the route he has a momentary interest for any old thing that crosses his path. Malick's camera mimics Kit's worldview: arbitrary shots of landscapes and objects are scattered throughout the film, mirroring Kit's unfocused, random route through life. Kit is a monster, but Malick subtly conveys the hollowness that's at his core.

Holly, played by Sissy Spacek, is Kit's equal in moral blankness. His crimes don't faze her, even her father's death leaves no impression on her, and her first sexual experience leaves her wondering what all the fuss was about. Holly provides a dear diary-like voiceover for the film, and her flat, matter-of-fact tone and observations show that she's sees herself living out the plot of a pulp romance novel, albeit one with a high body count.

Badlands is also a great-looking film. Malick has a fantastic eye for landscapes, especially the way he integrates people and moving vehicles into the wide open spaces of the prairies. If David Lean had shot a film in these locations he couldn't have done any better. I lived in that part of the world for four years and Malick captures the look and feel of it perfectly:

The film ends on a dream-like shot of clouds and the setting sun taken from a plane that's carrying Kit and Holly back to South Dakota to face the law. Holly's voiceover lets us know that Kit got the electric chair and she got probation. She also married the son of the lawyer who defended her. The ending's dreamy feeling suggests that that's the way Kit and Holly saw life; as a waking dream in which nothing had any value or meaning. This is absolutely one of the best films of the 1970s, although it has suffered some neglect, largely because, I'm guessing, it doesn't sensationalize its subject matter.