The Last Picture Show (1971)/Texasville (1990)

Sometimes serendipity finds you at the crossroads of ignorance and stubborness. I borrowed the Criterion copy of The Last Picture Show from the library and didn't know it was a double disc. The liner notes were on the left side of the case, so, last night, I pulled the disc from the right hand side as is the customary location. The dvd menu popped up as "Texasville", which I had glanced at on the case as being a bonus feature.

I shrugged and figured I might as well lean into that choice and see where this lesser known film goes. I chose the director's cut over the theatrical, because, why not? In for a pound - this is a Criterion collection, why would I want a normal experience. I learned two things in the opening titles: 1) that Texasville had Jeff Bridges and Cybill Shepherd as headliners, and  (2) this version was in black and white.

What I did not know at the time was: 1) Texasville was a sequel to The Last Picture Show, released 19 years afterwards with substantially the same core cast list. 2) Both of these films were based on Larry McMurty novels, respectively. 3) the black and white photography of this cut was a new one from 2022, following the death of the director, but was in line with his reconsidered vision. As the first film was in black and white, the theatrical release of Texasville in color set them without a common visual niche to better tie them together.

Being ignorant of all of this at the time, I thought it was a distinct framing of future-past nostalgia motif and set it apart in a felt experience. References to the more famous, previous film's characters and key events were beyond my ability to fully know. But weirdly, it was very engaging and effective to me - I thought that the filmmaker was demonstrating trust with his audience to pick up context by those omissions, to be paid off through later revelations to these early hints. 

After watching "The Last Picture Show" for the first time tonight, I think that I still prefer the sequel in some emotional ways, even as blind as I was to the full weight of the continuity. The Last Picture Show is a brilliant bridge, as has been raved about, between celebrating old Hollywood and advancing motifs of new Hollywood in a blend. "The Last Picture Show" is a coming of age in generational divide both in style and in the eyes of the characters. There is tension and melancholy loneliness in this new age, where potential is full and all these actors are young and hot, even the older adults in this film are quite striking and lovely to look at in contrast to the "high school" grads figuring out their lives and taking chances with consequences. The movie is shocking and sad in some consequential ways and moments as you feel with the characters in large and small moments.

But "Texasville" is meandering and overwhelmingly dense with small drama and moments. The core cast is older and more weathered. Everyone is bored and so tired of the monotony of life and make wildly bold impulsive choices to wreck Jeff Bridges' Duane's plans and force him to try to navigate and pick up the pieces in the wreckage, like everyone is expecting him to hurry up and do. Bridges is the straight man in most of his life, he has silver fox charisma with many hot and bothered moms, but is haunted by his oldest son who is a young buck and is a thoughtless horndog with enormous potential with his charisma and an even bigger libido, which sets him at odds in his schedule of having a fiancee, while also being a homewrecker to at least two of his dad's old friends' households. Duane has a daughter who is a single, hot mom with designs of getting a ring, as well as a set of twins who got kicked out of church camp for raising hell with prepubescent flirtation and attempted violence. For the first part of the movie, Duane is continuously being informed by other characters that two other townspeople are hooking up in a new configuration for the novelty of thinking it will fix their boring lives finally, and it now becomes Duane's assignment to either try to comfort the scorned and heartbroken lover who is having a breakdown AND/OR talk sense into the pair, as a pillar of the community, maybe they will listen to him and realize how stupid and inconvenient that that the new couple is being with their selfish and thoughtless chaos. 

Duane is confused and exasperated, but ever accommodating, however bewildered and frustrated he is at being given these errands. Everyone else's lives must be put above his own, and he got so used to this being the status quo, that he is not present in his own life as a successful oil tycoon who is over leveraged in debt and needing to strike a new vein of oil to keep his life afloat. But whenever he has to consider whether he enjoys his life and wealth, he would have to pause rather than knowing a good reason other than "People are relying on me to provide and project this life to enable them to continue their reckless choices" Or, to be bailed out on his ability to show up and save them with his time and/or money to smooth it over." There is something Ecclesiastical about "Texasville", where life is going too fast and yet there is a responsibility to still try to chase it down for those you care about who need your help. 

The later part of "Texasville" is like a repetitive oil derrick bobbing in the desert. A whole lot of nothing really except surface activity, but something eventually is hit deep in the bowels of the film, and this bubbling crudeness is valuable and useful in the right hands and situations. When these characters run out of surface diversions of chasing happiness, sometimes they are struck by vulnerable epiphanies of how sad, tired, and lonely they are. Even when surrounded by familiar trappings of luxury, comfort, and beauty, there is a longing for fulfillment and connection, of being seen, valued, and cherished. And this hunger consumes, even as beauty and energy fades, as old habits send people down familiar paths, wondering if their heart is in the destination, the pursuit, or the sheer routine of existence continuing.

The Last Picture Show is about potential and the tragedy of it being squandered by young fools and old romantics longing for that bit of nostalgia. "Texasville" is about being Atlas, knowing there are younger gods who will eventually supplant you and your generation. You are tired, oh so tired, but you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Can you manage to keep it there a little longer, while the young fools caper about and learn to mature enough to maybe take your place and keep the community intact into a future? "Texasville" is the lesser film in dramatic arc, but in the aggregate mosaic of how it reshapes the characters from the first film to a new Hope only for a new tragedy of humanity to take place? It is relatable and beautifully rendered in its series of small moments of being alive, tired, and messy with one another. 

The Long Walk (2025)

I don't particularly love Stephen King. A good friend of mine has him among his favorite writers and I read through the Dark Tower saga in tribute to my friend and that fondness. King is the prince of pantsers, and I am as guilty of that tendency as many, but "On Writing" struck a chord. There is something beautiful in betting on yourself to wrap up a story, a "high" akin to gambling like a high roller. But just because that is King's preferred method of operation, doesn't mean that he might always do that, as his shorter stories have transitioned into film.

The director, Francis Lawrence, has a knack for films where the system is damned and the characters struggle to wrestle against the hand of fate and fatalism. He made Constantine with Keanu Reeves, I Am Legend with Will Smith, and the Hunger Games trilogy and prequel. 

Which is only proper, because as I was emotionally affected by the characters and their motivations. I thought "This is a tragedy of human life that I wished came through clearer in The Hunger Games." The rules of the film are simple: 50 young men, one from every state, chosen by lottery. When the starting gun goes off, the candidates must walk on the pavement at a minimum 3 mph pace, with three warnings given to get back up to speed or be executed. The last one walking will receive a massive cash prize and one "wish" or "special request" granted by The Major. 

America's economy has fallen to shambles, and the Long Walk is broadcast to inspire the productivity of the everyday American. Witnessing such a human march motivates a productivity boost to gross national productivity and THAT IS ENOUGH TO JUSTIFY DOING IT. Except, as the young men are stumbling day and night, they find more in common with each other than with the soldiers and authoritarian regime enforcing this system. 

It is cruel. It is heartless. It is brutal.

But the film is shot and lit beautifully, and the comradeship and camaraderie is truly inspiring. The characters find more in common with helping each other to keep walking and you genuinely start to care for each walker's story as they reveal their hopes for a better life on the other side of this Walk. I didn't expect that this film would stir me and give me hope to carry on, and it is pointedly not because the circumstances are supported reasonable, necessary, and justified, but because the characters know that all of those elements are lacking, and persist for the love of the man walking next to them in defiance of fatigue, sanity, and death.

Let The Right One In (2008)

I have been on a horror kick lately, and trying to be more intentional about using the library streaming app Kanopy. I heard vague but positive things about this movie and checked it out. It starts really quiet with titles, and I soon realized that the film was being dubbed from another language into English, and that out of sync audio threw me, so I switched it back to its original audio in Swedish and allowed subtitles.

The film opens with Oskar, a pale twig of a boy with a platinum bob cut, as he stares out at the night and whispers threats of making someone squeal like a pig. It is his way of processing a bullying incident at school, where three kids are led by their ringleader, Connie, to antagonize and taunt Oskar's days.

What if you are stuck being young and stunted, shunned by your peers without a real friend in the world other than a guardian? How would you discern whether the slightest kindness is heartfelt or you are just that hungry for affection and regard?

That is the central question upon which this film revolves, as one night, Oskar encounters a girl shaped creature named Eli in the common yard of the apartment complex. Both recognize a kindred spirit, as the days are full of misery and pain. And the nights are a refuge in the company of each other. Eli is a child of divorce, with distracted parents and a fascination with gristly news stories of death and violence. And Eli is the cause of many of those news stories, as a vampire trapped at an age of "12, more or less", and a Renfield who is struggling to find involuntary candidates for the harvesting of blood for the needs of his charge.

One night, Oskar offers Eli a Rubik's Cube puzzle as a measure of trust and overture of friendship. He comes out to the commons on the following morning to find it solved in the snow. 

While in school, Oskar learns Morse code and is excited at the idea of sharing this information with his new friend as a means of communication and shared secret, only to be confronted by Connie for what he stayed back in class to write something down. One of Connie's minions is stared down to punish Oskar by whipping him in the legs with a branch, Oskar patiently waits it out with his eyes closed, and a final blow to his cheek draws blood. Connie taunts him to explain that to his mom when he gets home, but the bullies retreat. Oskar makes an excuse about tripping at recess, but opens up to Eli later that night. She encourages him to stand up for himself and hit back instead of being such a passive object offering no resistance to their escalation.

Eli's Renfield requests that his mistress stay away from Oskar, as it is an unnecessary risk of exposure. But Oskar is a trusting, vulnerable, and hurting kid, and Eli relates to his loneliness. Oskar and Eli dance around a relationship, as they talk and confide in one another about the pains of this coming of age and being stuck in a weak and vulnerable frame where a more stable and adult future is tantalizingly out of reach.

The performances are excellent and its innocence reminded me of "Good Manners", a 2017 Portuguese coming of age film about a boy afflicted with lycanthropy. Stories about children monsters with moments of great violence and tenderness are a unique tone, somehow encapsulating the liminal space of the experience of childhood in literal metaphor. 

There is a relatable humanity to the characters' interactions, between a selfish lashing out as vengeance for pain experienced and a strong urge to shield and protect those you love from the worst moments of themselves and others.

Until Dawn (2025)

I watched this movie tonight because I was in the mood for horror and had borrowed it from the library based upon seeing a trailer in theatres for it last year.

It is a movie based on a PlayStation video game which I hadn't played, but also heard good things about. With these vague bona fides and expectations around such an adaptation, the most likely outcome would have placed it in the realm of the Resident Evil cinematic universe, which like that franchises' most famous antagonists? It just doesn't stay dead.

I did not expect that this Until Dawn would actually turn out to be one of the more effective horror films I have seen in a while. The cast is composed mainly of actors I haven't seen previously in anything, except maybe character actor Peter Stormare, who likely disappears as a supporting role in many features. But the performances were solid, the music cues kept tension, and the special effects weren't cheesy. This movie was better and scarier in its framed shots and jump scares were earned rather than just cheap thrills. I actually cared about the survival of the characters as they were defined, even though the back stories were not fully outlined, I didn't need them to be laid out more than they were.

This film is a less goofy "Cabin In The Woods" setting blended with the plot device of "Happy Death Day", even though I found enjoyment in both of those comedy horror films, this particular combination trimmed the comedy and doubled down the stakes of the horror.

The premise of the movie is that a group of friends is supporting Clover Paul, a girl who lost contact with her sister about a year ago. The group of five friends are retracing the stops from her lost sister's video posts as a means of attaining a sense of closure for Clover. As they make it to the stop where the last video from the sister was posted, they get a lead that there is a place nearby where a lot of people seemed to have gone missing. As the group drives off, a rainstorm in a forested road obscures the path, until it mysteriously tapers off to reveal a lodging house in the middle of a clearing. This phenomenon of a wall of rain just stopping like a bubble is slightly eerie, but the sun in the clearing is late afternoon and it is nice to have a break from the downpour. The group investigates the lodging house, but it appears abandoned as if the hosts have gone fishing for a short lunch break. One member wanders in the back officez looking at a bulletin board covered with "lost notices" with faces of the missing. There is an hourglass on the wall with a skull motif under it like a casual pirate decor vibe. Another member opens the guest book and finds it empty, but figures it should be used for it's intended purpose and signs her name.

This triggers a subtle shift in events, as something catches everyone's attention and they congregate to confer over what exactly is going on? The sun has set and suddenly the log book of guests is no longer empty, it is filled with names of repeated guests, with deteriorating handwriting scrawls into gibberish. Only to be replaced with a fresh new guest's signature only for the pattern to be repeated. The group is attacked by a masked freak with a machete and are hunted down one by one. Only for the hourglass in the lobby to mechanically flip back over and reset to the beginning of the dusk, with the party all drawing a startled, hard breath at the memory of their demise. They quickly learn the mechanics of their test - survive the night until dawn, but the night's events are not a firm loop as much as a bizarre escalation of new events to confront and avoid each iteration, so past pattern recognition is of limited utility for what MIGHT happen again.

But the group gets tired and weary, wondering how to keep their sanity and whether there is a limit to the number of chances to solve and resolve the puzzle for how to survive for one full night.

Departures (2009)

Sometimes you don't get to choose what you are good at doing. Sometimes fate gives you a talent or knack and you have to figure out whether you will live into it or in contrast to it.

 I was vaguely aware of this movie when it was released. A Japanese film about a young cellist who has to change his career to be a mortician assistant in the art of preparing the departed for a final farewell from their family and friends.

But my mother has a similar knack to me in serendipitous curiosity and capriciousness, as she picks films that cross her path in her volunteer work at library sales. She watched this film and wanted to see if she could connect with me over it. I was pretty accurate in guessing when the movie has been released, but had missed that it was scored by Joe Hisaishi. Which between my mom's recommendation and the Studio Ghibli composer really interested me.

I finally got time to watch it, and was very affected by its arc. The change in careers was embarrassing for the protagonist, as his orchestra folded just as he secured his dream job, and he has to admit to his young wife that he can't fulfill his proposal's promise to travel the world performing. Instead, he has no job and a deep loan on a professional cello he had invested in faith of his career success. He has a house in his hometown, inherited from his mother who had to covert the business side from a coffee shop to a bar after her husband deserted her when the protagonist was 6.

The protagonist sees an ad in the local newspaper for a good paying job with no experience required, involving "departures." Thinking it has to do with travel, he gets his interview suit ready and shows up to a small office. The office manager summons her elderly boss, the owner of the business, and the owner asks the interviewee if he is willing to work hard for very good pay and hires him on the spot, telling him that the ad was a misprint - it was not "Departures", but "the departed". But he has a good feeling about the kid's ability to do the job, and gives him advance pay.

The rest of the film unfolds slowly, as the character has to reassess whether he is truly suitable for this job. There is a grace and dignity which the owner demonstrates in preparing each of his clients, and there is a draw to seeing a job done well with professionalism and competence. It is beautifully scored, and patient in its shots for the slow reactions of grief and having the honor and responsibility of holding the memories of the friends and family to be reflected in the deceased. Death is a part of life, and it is often something that people shy away from as ingracious, indelicate, and terrifying. This film gives you time to gradually acclimate that there is peace and calm in the unknown, if you are open to learn to handle whatever aspects can be understood and controlled.

This film is cathartic and gives voice to quiet moments where words fall short. 

Hard Truths (2024)

This movie might do more without dialogue than many films do with words. So much of this film's dialogue is unkind and ingracious words that the non-verbal scenes bring attention and relief. And this film is beautiful and tragic by these two contrasts intertwining.

Sometimes life has hard truths and scars run deep, so the healing involves pain to try to address the core issues. 

Pansy is a 60-something African-English woman who has the temperment of a traumatized small dog. She barks at anything that moves, is paranoid that the world is too big and mean for her, and so rarely ventures outside her pristinely clean house. She has Curtley, a henpecked plumber ,for a husband and Moses, her 22-year old unemployed quiet giant of a son. She berates them day and night for whatever they are doing to exist in her house and disturb her peace.

In contrast, Pansy's  53-year old sister, Chantelle, is a hairdresser and single mom to two daughters near their twenties. Their scenes have such intimate joy and pleasure, it is hard not to feel like a fourth member of an in-group in their element. Chantelle's clients feel heard and supported in her chair, and tell her about her lives and hopes with their relationships in life.

These two sisters are the core of the movie, and how they handle day-to-day life and conflict. Pansy's interacts with the world with the sensitivity of an open wound, raising tension with her personal thunderstorm in her wake. Chantelle isn't perfect, but her wake is more of a gentle rain to soothe the soul. Chantelle wants Pansy to visit their mother's grave on a Mother's Day Sunday, urging her to leave her house, do something together, and share a meal.

I saw the trailer for this film in a theater and it looked like a hard pill to witness and swallow. And it is, but I didn't see the representation that was Chantelle and her slow honey from a spoon. Grace is patient and steady, and has a habit of catching those quick to anger by surprise.

I am so glad that I saw this film, though it pulled no punches on the speed bag of cutting remarks, it held in the moments and showed love and compassion in the face of deep fear and careless hatred. The last scene lingers with unspoken tension, and lets the audience sit without commentary for how it will be resolved.

All That Jazz (1979)

I watched "All That Jazz" tonight. I do believe this is one of the most insane accomplishments caught on film.  I am beside myself with awe at the ego and audacity to write something like this and the sheer determination and humble exhibitionist grit to pull it off.

Bob Fosse. I had heard of this choreographer's work before, but had never experienced it. And this is a movie about effortless perfection, and the cost of a body and soul to reach that ideal. 

The film follows Joe Gideon, a creative genius who has spent his whole career defying gravity as a director, choreographer, and writer. But Gideon's story is like multiple Greek characters in their glorious blessing and cursedness at once. Straining ever higher towards the sun like Icarus, with a restless partying hedonism like Dionysus in Gideon's downtime, and the fate of Tantulus in everything at which he grasps is just out of reach of his desire. He has the Midas touch, but his perfectionist tendencies come with a heavy weight of time to carry out.

The film allows for Gideon's genius to be undeniable and yet exasperating in that working with him brings others to justified tears. By the time his vision is realized, yes, he has managed to sharpen it, but it is branded with his stamp of style, burning every stable relationship he has as fuel to his fire, all with catchy songs and choreo to his fever dream downfall. It is cutting, brilliant, and tragic. Everything is firing at all levels to see this guy's workaholic efforts consume him in his glorified work. It is a metaphor realized and made flesh. I don't know how someone has this vision to tell this honest story and then the ability to make it be accurately depicted and shown.

I don't think I will ever want to watch it again. It is insanely well made in every frame. But it is an enchanting mirror like in the fable of the Ice Queen, where ugliness is amplified and you cannot remove the mote from your eye. Everything works here from the music to the dancing to the performances. It is a staggering work of creative brilliance and the broken bodies and minds it leaves to pick up the wreckage when that flame is snuffed and the music dies away. It is a haunting tale to see myself in the film, knowing the director has managed to convey the agony and ecstacy, the loneliness and insatiability of having the best taste in every room you enter and having to shape the flawed people around you into suitable tools to reach that vision. I can't live this way and yet now that I know it is possible to do something like this? What excuse have I not to give it my best shot to craft a shadowplay of whatever was accomplished in this piece of work?