Lucky (2017)
The spiritual journey of a ninety-year-old atheist.
Director:
John Carroll LynchStars:
Country:
USALanguage:
EnglishRelease Date:
29 September 2017 (USA) See more »Also Known As:
Szczęściarz See more »Company Credits
Technical Specs
Runtime:
Color:
ColorAspect Ratio:
2.35 : 1Did You Know?
Trivia
Shot in eighteen days.Soundtracks
El Llanto De Mi Madre
Written by Salome Gutierrez, R.
Performed by 'Lydia Mendoza'
Courtesy of D.L.B. Records
Published by San Antonio Music Publishers, Inc.
Written by Salome Gutierrez, R.
Performed by 'Lydia Mendoza'
Courtesy of D.L.B. Records
Published by San Antonio Music Publishers, Inc.
“Lucky” begins with series of shots of the New Mexico desert:
broken-backed hills, cacti reaching for the sky. It locates a tortoise
crawling on the ground. This is President Roosevelt, whose predicament
we’ll learn about in due course. Then it settles on a human equivalent
of that tortoise: the title character, Lucky, played by then-89-year old
Harry Dean Stanton, who died mere weeks before this film’s commercial release.
Over
the course of the next 88 minutes, we spend nearly every moment in the
company of Lucky. Lucky is a long-retired World War II veteran. He has
friends but is often brusque and impatient with them. He has a routine,
and like many older people, it gives shape to his days.
He walks around town and stops in the local coffee shop, where he talks to the head cook (Barry Shabaka Henley) and a particular waitress, Loretta (Yvonne Huff), who
takes an almost daughterly interest in his well being to the point of
stopping by Lucky’s tiny home to inquire about his health and share her
stash of weed. Lucky goes to his favorite bar and drinks and talks to
the owner Elaine (Beth Grant) and her husband Paulie (James Darren,
of TV’s “T.J. Hooker” and several “Gidget” films). They argue amongst
themselves and with other patrons about philosophy, morality, religion,
game shows, etc. We see a lot of Lucky at home, often in his baggy
underwear, doing yoga exercises and smoking cigarettes (he has a
pack-a-day habit, has since he was a teenager).
"Lucky" is filled
with frank talk about primal subjects. This is often framed as banter,
or enclosed within routine events such as a random conversation in a
restaurant (Tom Skerritt plays another World War II veteran; he's too young for the part but you believe him anyway) or in a doctor’s office (Ed Begley,
Jr. plays Lucky’s physician—what a treasure trove of actors this film
is). But the story’s deeper meanings reside in its images of Harry Dean
Stanton moving at a tortoise’s pace through a series of sun-drenched,
Western-styled panoramas (the soundtrack often playing a solo harmonica
version of “Red River Valley” performed by Stanton), or making his way
from the entrance of his favorite coffee shop or bar to his customary
seat (when he sees someone else sitting in it, it throws him for a
loop).
This movie is about death, of course, and fear of death,
and health, and loneliness. It’s about the choices not made and the
roads not taken: Lucky has a lot of regrets, but you often have to
deduce what they are, because he’s the kind of crabby old eccentric
who’d rather get into debates with people than just talk to them. (Other
people talk more openly than he does, often as a means of trying to get
him to open up and be vulnerable, which is really not his style.) Much
is made of Lucky’s atheism, which complicates his defiant attitude
towards the inevitable approach of death.
“Friendship is essential to the soul,” Paulie tells him at the bar.
“It doesn’t exist,” Lucky replies, an edge in his voice.
“Friendship?” Paulie clarifies.
“The soul!” Lucky yells.
The movie is also about friendship, especially as emphasized in Lucky’s conversations with his buddy Howard, played by David Lynch
as a dandy in a cream-colored suit, white fedora and red ascot. Howard
is distressed about the disappearance of Theodore Roosevelt, his
beloved, ancient tortoise (call the animal a turtle at your peril).
Lynch directed Stanton in many projects, including the recent “Twin
Peaks: The Return,” which cast the actor as a weathered exemplar of
decency: a trailer park manager who offers to give a jobless tenant a
break on the rent so he won’t have to keep selling his blood, and who
cradles a dying boy and watches his soul rise to heaven. There’s an
extra-dramatic thrill to watching these two, who have known each other
for at least thirty years, play old friends. Lynch holds his own:
whether he’s as fine an actor as Stanton or simply a good friend to him
is a moot point. Either way, love and respect are present in every
moment.
Lucky is the kind of guy whose capacity to make new
friends either went dormant or switched off at a certain point. He’s as
surprised as anybody when he finds himself opening up to younger people,
including Loretta, who has issues of her own, and a young insurance
agent played by Ron Livingston,
whom Lucky despises immediately but who opens up suddenly, almost
desperately, like a drowning man begging for someone to pull him from
the water.
The movie was written by Logan Sparks and Drago Sumonja, and directed by longtime actor turned filmmaker John Carroll Lynch (of “Fargo,” “Zodiac”
and other films too numerous to mention—he’s another Stanton in the
making). I’ve seen a lot of movies that try to be “Lucky”—movies about
eccentric people in a small town or neighborhood who hang out in bars
and coffee shops and have conversations—but very few that have this
film’s elegant shape, its sense of when to hang back and listen and when
to let the camera tell the story, and when to end a thought and move on
to the next one.
It’s the humblest deep movie of recent years, a work in the same vein as American marginalia like “Stranger Than Paradise” and “Trees Lounge,”
but with its own rhythm and color, its own emotional temperature, its
own reasons for revealing and concealing things. There’s a long scene of
Lucky smoking cigarettes at night and thinking. The soundtrack plays Johnny Cash’s
“I See a Darkness," one of many late-career classics in which the
singer faced the certainty of his own death. The sandblasted terrain of
Stanton’s face in this scene constitutes a movie within a movie, a life
revealed in contemplation. It's one of the most powerful things I’ve
ever seen. I felt that way before Stanton left us. I feel it even more
keenly now.
FINAL RATING: 9/10 for the genre and also 9/10 overall. All what I had to say is above. Simply a great movie.
Thanks for reading and have fun watching movies.
0 comments:
Post a Comment