The Dude abides!

Surfacing in my DVR queue last night was PBS' season premiere of their American Masters series -- "Jeff Bridges: The Dude Abides."

We'll get to Jeff in a second, but I first have to say that this series does an amazing job. With this specific film directed by Gail Levin, the use of photography, behind-the-scenes material, clips from past movies, interviews with family, friends and colleagues and the way it is all seamlessly woven together with Jeff's own words makes for a highly enthralling 90 minutes.

Now, to Mr. Bridges ...

If ever there was someone who embodies the word "eclectic," it's Bridges. We can obviously see this in his body of filmwork -- the fact that he played the President of the United States in "The Contender" two years after playing The Dude in "The Big Lebowski" is all that needs to be said about this. And on that topic, one of the "grooviest" parts of this film, for me, is when he makes a surprise visit to a Big Lebowski tribute shop in Greenwich Village.



But the film also showcases his considerable talents off-screen, as a musician, photographer and painter. A few examples:

• Bridges thought he would take the music route as a kid -- not wanting to go into his father's business right away -- and even wrote a song for the soundtrack of one of his brother Beau's early movies. Lately, Jeff said his role in "Crazy Heart" whetted his musical appetite, so he got a band together, had his agent set up some gigs, and he played at Niagara Falls for a couple of nights, thoroughly enjoying it.

• He takes behind-the-scenes photos of virtually every movie he works on with a vintage Widelux camera, and makes albums as gifts for the people he works with on the movie. I happened to watch "Seabiscuit" a few nights ago, and there's a very poignant DVD extra featuring Bridges' camera shots that artistically illustrate the collaborative aspect of movie-making.

• Bridges' talents as a painter and potter are also examined, as he's filmed intensively going to work with paints -- at one point spontaneously representing his family rising from white on a glass background -- and clay -- making a variety of pots and quirky resemblances of heads and faces -- all yet another outlet for his all-encompassing creativity.

Jeff Bridges and his vintage Widelux camera (PBS)

The film also examines Bridges' tendency to be hesitant or reticent in accepting virtually every movie or project that comes his way. He's one "who has to be dragged to the party," and confesses to having a bit of The Dude in him, an admitted laziness at times -- but once he's in, he's all in. It also brushes on his individual relationships with his family, which I found to be quite compelling and moving.

For me, when faced with immensely gifted people like this, who seem to be able to cram so much positive and beneficial work in their lives, it's incredibly inspiring to see all these gifts being used to their maximum potential. It also serves as a pretty jarring wakeup call -- an example of the way we should all get off our asses and live, to get as much as we can out of life by giving as much as we can.

One other thing I realized is how shameful it is that so many of his older films have escaped me. Not "King Kong," though! That flop earns the distinction of likely being the first Jeff Bridges movie I ever saw (and saw again and again for that matter), and -- more importantly -- very well could have led to his ability to explore more offbeat roles as his star appeal was briefly tarnished. Perhaps it is precisely his unassuming nature and propensity for unconventional roles that took me so long to get into his stuff, even though he was nominated for an Academy Award four times before winning with "Crazy Heart."

Consider a line spoken in this film by director Taylor Hackford: "We grew up thinking 'The Actors Studio.' You've got DeNiro, Pacino, Dustin, Brando ... you have all the method people in New York, and they really have the tap on great acting. Here's this guy in California who's this surfer dude. He's absolutely as good as any one of them."

So, yes, while I've seen many of his films by this point, I still have several on the must-see list to right this wrong. And with "Starman," "Cutter's Way," "Against All Odds" and "American Heart" all currently streaming live on Netflix, I'm envisioning a Jeff Bridges winter-day marathon in my near future.

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Note: If you missed the program on TV, you can watch it in its entirety online here. Also, for an even more in-depth and intriguing look at his on- and off-screen endeavors, check out Jeff Bridges' official website.

Book review: Bloodroot

It certainly appears I'm about to write up my first so-called book review -- or more likely a glorified recommendation, since I plan to keep this one short.

I just finished "Bloodroot," by Amy Greene -- blowing through it in two sittings (admittedly during a couple of slow work shifts!) -- and I was very surprised at how good this is, considering it's apparently her debut novel. I heard some glowing things about it popping up here and there, but it's so unlike anything I ever read, it took me a while to get to it. But I'm glad I did.

I'm not going to waste a whole lot of time telling what the story's about, because you can find it in detail virtually anywhere, but it's an engaging family saga set in Tennessee's Smoky Mountains and centers around Myra Lamb, who has this mysterious effect on everyone around her. Growing in this mountain range is the bloodroot, a flower that produces a blood-red sap that has the power to both heal and destroy. Yes, there is much symbolism here, but some startling realism as well, amid the pain, poverty and primitive lives that are examined.

What I most like about this story is that it's one of those I've always been drawn to, where an intertwining group of characters progresses over decades -- and it is seamlessly woven through the years by the first-person accounts of these characters, which provides an authentic voice of an area and a people I know virtually nothing about. Although if you've seen "Winter's Bone," (which I really should have written up here at some point) even though that was set in the Ozarks, I found the two stories to have a similar tone.

One personal note: From my experience with this book, I'd recommend not reading ahead to see who helps tell this story, because I found it very cool to see who picks it up as I turn the pages -- this includes a perfectly written epilogue from a surprising character that emotionally and poignantly ties the story off with a, yes, satisfyingly unsatisfying bow ... if you will.

So maybe I'll add some book entries in the future, maybe not, but I felt this is worth a recommendation. It's really a mesmerizing story that tells of the power of home and the ability to rise above some of life's true horrors with love and strength of spirit -- while the lush, earthy descriptions and the haunting (or haunted?) fully developed characters give the story a tangible quality that is very much cinematic in scope and very much comes to life as you turn the pages.

Review: The King's Speech

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"What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?" -- George Eliot (via Monica E. Smith)

It's a terrible thing to live in fear. But it's an entirely different thing to not only be unable to keep it private, but to have to face it on the global stage at a critical time in human history -- at which you are being looked to for leadership ... or weakness by your enemies.

This is the unenviable position Prince Albert (or "Bertie" and ultimately King George VI of England) finds himself in at the spectacular climax of "The King's Speech," and while we await what we know is coming, the journey to that point is incredible to watch.

Portrayed to perfection by Colin Firth, Bertie has been afflicted with a seemingly unconquerable stammer virtually all his life -- and after the death of his father, George V (Michael Gambon) and the abdication of his older brother, Edward VIII (Guy Pearce), the agonizingly reluctant Bertie accepts the crown, and does so when England is on the verge of declaring war on Germany, marking the dawn of WWII.

Let me just stop here to recognize Firth's performance, and to say that I can't imagine him not winning the Oscar for this role. From the opening minutes, when Bertie makes his heart-wrenching first speech at Wembley Stadium, Firth conveys every bit the fear, the embarrassment and the horror of being a regal figure with such an impediment, only to hear the mocking reverberations of his own stammer echoing throughout the stadium. Throughout the film, he displays a fully developed character, rich with emotions that also include humor, wit and charm, and we, too, are aware of the hours of preparation that were needed to master the evident technique that succeeds in portraying a realistic and not a hokey or exaggerated stutter.

Colin Firth and Helena Bonham Carter

But no great movie relies solely on one great character, and we have two outstanding supporting actors to ensure that this is also the case here. Helena Bonham Carter plays Bertie's supporting wife, Elizabeth, who is delightfully peculiar while demonstrating unequivocal love and sympathy for her husband's plight. She has seeked out specialists of all kinds to help her husband, and when none have panned out, she finds another.

This man is Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), an Australian-born speech therapist who is also quite eccentric and offers his own unique brand of therapy to the short-tempered Bertie. What's critical here is that he's a "commoner," later we find him to be uncredentialed -- gasp! -- yet he's enlisted to help one who would be king. Lionel proves to Bertie early on that he may indeed be able to help, so the two proceed to have several very good scenes together, laying the foundation for what clearly is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. They work primarily, and colorfully, in Logue's drab home office, but proceed to a memorable sequence at Westminster Abbey as they rehearse for Bertie's coronation -- and Logue is with him to the end, when he delivers his speech that declares war and rallies his people behind him.

And what a flawless scene this is. I don't want to describe it fully, because the true experience lies in watching it play out, but with Elizabeth and Lionel by his side, Bertie's walk to the microphone is akin to one walking to his own execution; the microphone seemingly unveiled as an instrument of torture. And as he prepares to speak, and finally does, we're so emotionally invested in his journey to this point, the courage he's had to show, the myriad of agonizing challenges he's had to overcome -- combined with the support of his wife and the calming, silent coaching of Logue during this historic speech -- that I defy you to hold back your own emotion.

Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush

This qualifies as one of the most inspiring films I've seen, and what continues to astonish me, is that it's another in a countless number of stories based on real life in which some of us seem to be chosen to live lives fraught with hardship, turmoil and quiet desperation. And it never ceases to amaze me that these people rise above it, when others (me!) would have given up ages ago, even as problem after problem mounts and countless setbacks are endured. Here, as prime minister Stanley Baldwin informs Bertie upon his coronation that he's resigning because of the impending war and then stoically tells him that "your greatest test ... is yet to come ..." you wonder how much more the guy can take as he stares blankly ahead, breathing deeply as he contemplates what he's going to have to go through, and that there's no way out.

What I like about this story specifically, is that it acknowledges that we all feel utterly alone at times with our own crosses to bear, our own unique hand that is dealt and our specific role to play. Yet, we are all human beings, equal in that aspect, trying to make our way in this world -- and how often the solutions to our problems seem to be in each other.

Here, a commoner uses his gifts to help a king, so that he, in turn, can fulfill his role. It provides the unmistakable sense that we are all connected, no matter the class system of the day, and that we are meant to freely ask our fellow man for a hand in our lives even as much as we are meant to offer our own.

Review: The Indian Runner

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Every new child born brings the message that God is not yet discouraged of man. ~Tagore

I'm not sure if I should be more baffled by missing this film from the standpoint of being a Bruce Springsteen fan or a fan of movies in general, but somehow, "The Indian Runner" -- which came out in 1991 -- completely escaped my radar until recently.

For one thing, it marks the directorial debut of Sean Penn, who also wrote the script, but perhaps more glaring, it is inspired by Springsteen's "Highway Patrolman," which is one of those tunes I can never skip in the iPod when it comes on.

One of the primary reasons I like Springsteen's music so much is because of the cinematic qualities that so many of them convey. And every time I listen to "Highway Patrolman," there are scenes so vivid I've actually thought that it would make a great movie someday.

And so it did ... or has! Like the song, "The Indian Runner" involves two brothers: Joe Roberts (David Morse), who is the deputy sheriff of a small town, and his brother Franky (Viggo Mortensen). The two are close, but have completely different personalities. Joe has the ability to enjoy the simple things in life: his wife, his child, his job, his garden. Franky has been a lost cause all his life, consistently in trouble with the law before fighting in Vietnam. Upon returning home he is still unable to shake his perplexing anger at the world that fuels his violent tendencies and troublesome nature.

The movie is identical to the song at the beginning and the end, but takes liberties with what the story may have been in the middle. For me, the plot isn't as important here as the characters, and this is what makes the movie work.

Morse and Mortensen are both excellent, inhabit their characters perfectly, and are -- very satisfyingly, I might add -- the epitome of the characters I picture when I hear the song. Surrounding them is their quietly suffering father, who is played to subtle perfection by Charles Bronson, and Franky's girlfriend Dorothy (Patrica Arquette), who is wide-eyed, innocent and possibly led astray by her own romantic perceptions while seeing something in Franky others do not. Joe's wife Maria (Valeria Golino) and a surprising, yet ultimately critical, cameo of sorts by Dennis Hopper also lend rich support to the story.

The movie bears similarities to two of my favorites. Like "The Deer Hunter," it is set in the gritty, blue collar, small town that only those who call it home can love, and it bears a strong resemblance to "A River Runs Through It," where the older brother, who appears to have his life together, battles his own insecurities while being forced to watch his younger brother destroy his life because he doesn't know how to help.

This is not a perfect movie, and is not quite up to par with these examples, primarily because of its pacing. At a run time of over two hours, it easily could have lost a half hour or so in the middle. It tends to meander a bit and, at points, uses a hammer to deliver its message instead of a nudge. And from a selfish standpoint, there is a line in the chorus of the song where the two brothers are out at a bar "taking turns dancing with Maria" that I really wish would have made it into the film!

But there are few perfect movies out there, and these are but a few minor issues I have with it. It's not an easy movie to watch -- it's bleak, it's sad, it's depressing, it's tragic -- but it perfectly captures the tone of this song that I like so much, sometimes with affecting poignancy, and that in itself makes it a worthy tribute and a commendable filmmaking effort.

Highway Patrolman
By Bruce Springsteen

My name is Joe Roberts I work for the state

I'm a sergeant out of Perrineville barracks number 8

I always done an honest job as honest as I could

I got a brother named Franky and Franky ain't no good

Now ever since we was young kids it's been the same come down

I get a call over the radio Franky's in trouble downtown

Well if it was any other man, I'd put him straight away

But when it's your brother sometimes you look the other way

Me and Franky laughin' and drinkin' nothin' feels better than blood on blood

Takin' turns dancin' with Maria as the band played "Night of the Johnstown Flood"

I catch him when he's strayin' like any brother would

Man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good

Well Franky went in the army back in 1965 I got a farm deferment, settled down, took Maria for my wife

But them wheat prices kept on droppin' till it was like we were gettin' robbed

Franky came home in '68, and me, I took this job

Yea we're laughin' and drinkin' nothin' feels better than blood on blood

Takin' turns dancin' with Maria as the band played "Night of the Johnstown Flood"

I catch him when he's strayin', teach him how to walk that line

Man turns his back on his family he ain't no friend of mine

Well the night was like any other, I got a call 'bout quarter to nine

There was trouble in a roadhouse out on the Michigan line

There was a kid lyin' on the floor lookin' bad bleedin' hard from his head there was a girl cryin' at a table and it was Frank, they said

Well I went out and I jumped in my car and I hit the lights

Well I must of done one hundred and ten through Michigan county that night

It was out at the crossroads, down round Willow bank

Seen a Buick with Ohio plates behind the wheel was Frank

Well I chased him through them county roads till a sign said Canadian border five miles from here

I pulled over the side of the highway and watched his taillights disappear

Me and Franky laughin' and drinkin'

Nothin' feels better than blood on blood

Takin' turns dancin' with Maria as the band played "Night of the Johnstown Flood"

I catch him when he's strayin' like any brother would

Man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good

Review: The Woman in the Window

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"The Woman in the Window" has been on my list for a while, and I finally got around to watching it after having recorded it on TCM. And it did not disappoint!

Let me set the stage here.

Gotham College professor Richard Wanley (Edward G. Robinson) just kissed the wifey and kiddos goodbye as they left for a lengthy summer vacation, and he meets up with his buddies to kick off his freedom with dinner at the men's club.

Let me just stop right here and say these 1940's men's clubs are outstanding, and you can bet heavily that I'd be a regular. It's all so classy: Eating dinner and then adjourning to the lounge area for cigars, coffee and brandy in tall overstuffed chairs, surrounded by a library of books and hearths with roaring fires. I need to find these places.

But I digress ...

As Richard approaches the club, he notices an exquisitely painted portrait of a beautiful woman ... yes ... in a window, and is transfixed by it. His friends -- district attorney Frank Lalor (Raymond Massey) and Dr. Michael Barkstane (Edmund Breon) -- watch and chuckle as he stares at the portrait, and then give him some good-natured ribbing.

Later, after his friends have gone, Richard is awakened in one of those overstuffed chairs, as he was reading a book, with a glass of brandy (yes!) and makes his way out of the club. However, he's drawn to the painting once more, and as he's gazing at it, he sees the reflection of the very same woman in the glass. She is Alice Reed (Joan Bennett), and she's standing beside him on the sidewalk.

Having had a bit too much to drink, and fueled by conversations of being middle-aged and no longer being able to find the fun in adventure, Richard seizes the moment during the quite suggestive convo and agrees to accompany this captivating woman for more cocktails in the city and then a rendezvous at her apartment, where they are certainly enjoying themselves -- even though Richard knows better.

Alice:(Offering him a drink) Let's have another.
Richard: I should say no, I know, but I haven't the slightest intention of saying it.

Inevitably, things go horribly awry. Alice's apparent boyfriend comes storming in, fights with Richard and, well, ends up dead. The two cook up a plan to cover it up, and it's here this thing shifts into another gear and becomes unrelenting suspense.

Joan Bennett and Edward G. Robinson

There are parts where it feels very Hitchcockian -- like a great scene in which Richard is driving and nearly runs an old-fashioned red light, and he looks out the window to see a cop smiling at his close call ... only Richard knows how close a call it was. There are lines spoken here or pieces of information dropped there that, when they occur, you know they will come into play again later. The whole movie and its complexities are structured so well, it's just a prime example of flawless storytelling.

The film is a perfect companion piece to "Double Indemnity," which Robinson is also in but has the pleasure of playing a character with considerably less stress and anxiety -- the friend who unsuspectingly closes in on his buddy who is trying to get away with murder.

Here, that part is played by Massey's agonizingly analytical district attorney, who expertly begins to put his theories and the case together right in front of his squirming friend.

Massey: Now these two people, this man and this woman, sit ... hating and fearing each other. Each wondering how long it'll be before the other is caught and blabs out the whole story.

It's fascinating to watch this old-school deductive reasoning and logic at play here, without the CSI-style, DNA-gathering techniques we're used to seeing today. And it's equally fascinating to watch Richard -- who, I have to say, for a college professor makes some colossal blunders -- marvel at the police's expertise, get stuck in these hilariously distressing situations, screw up, try to cover up again and continue to plot and scheme his way out of this mess.

And just when you think things can't get worse for Richard and Alice, a blackmailer is introduced in the sleazy form of Heidt (Dan Duryea), who makes things even more miserable -- in some intense scenes with Alice -- but he also thrusts this story into overdrive toward the riveting conclusion.

Now, the ending ... I'm sure for its time it was quite a riot, and yes I got a kick out of it. But watching it today, I would have gone another way with it -- bending toward the tragically ironic and more befitting of the elegant Hitchcockian track it was on.

But overall, this is an absolutely entertaining film, and if you sit back -- maybe with some frosty Guinnesses as I did -- and let it all play out, you'll enjoy this movie immensely whilst leaning forward on the edge of your seat throughout ... guaranteed.

Review: The Secret in Their Eyes

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If you keep going over the past, you're going to end up with a thousand pasts and no future.

At its surface, "The Secret In Their Eyes," which won Best Foreign Language Film (Argentina) at the 2010 Academy Awards, appears to be a police drama, but as the story evolves it becomes a mesmerizing film that spans two decades, with emotional intertwining themes and rich, fully developed characters.

The film begins in 1999, 25 years after the brutal rape and homicide of 23-year-old newlywed Liliana Coloto (Carla Quevedo) went unsolved, due mainly to a corrupt legal system. The criminal investigator, Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darin), now retired, is still haunted by the case and the events surrounding it and, to cope, is attempting to write a novel about it.

He reunites with Irene Hastings (Soledad Villamil), his former supervisor on the case and with whom he was (is?) in love, to present to her his idea and notes for the novel. She is affected by the case as well, and neither has talked about it until now.

From here, the movie follows a two-themed track as it flashes back to the mid-70's and the characters involved attempting to solve the case, and flashes forward as they attempt to live in its aftermath.

For one, it's a detective story that primarily involves Hastings, Esposito and his alcoholic assistant, Pablo Sandoval (Guillermo Francella), an affliction rendered even more tragic by revelations of his keen mind, along with his sense of humor and genuine affection for Esposito. For such a heavy drama, the two share some very good comedic and lighthearted moments.

The detective track also introduces us to Ricardo Morales, Liliana's grieving husband, who is played thoughtfully by Pablo Rago. He is devastated by Liliana's death, conveyed through some heartwrenching scenes, and goes to obsessive lengths to find the killer and avenge his wife.

When we are introduced to the primary suspect, Isidoro Gomez (Javier Godino), it is done in a breathtaking scene that takes place during a soccer game and is filmed in a fashion I've never seen before. Forget the fact that they find the guy in a jam-packed stadium, it is so uniquely shot and suspenseful that it is quite memorable.

Soledad Villamil and Ricardo Darin (Sony Pictures Classics)

Intertwined with the police story, the film is also a story of unspoken love between Irene and Benjamin, and how the inability to acknowledge their feelings for each other dooms them to lives they may not have been meant to live. As a result, they seem forever caught in the past, and their only future is to live with the notion of how things should have been.

What I really like about this film is how the two different tracks reflect the same themes. As the case is reopened, also reawakened are the unspoken feelings between Benjamin and Irene; as the case -- chillingly I might add -- addresses the issue of "How do you live a life full of nothing," Irene is forced to answer this question based on her life choices ... to mention just a couple.

The two tracks are also full of subtle parallels that I love: A typewriter with a missing "A" key, an "irresistible smile" that is initially unforthcoming, doors that are strategically left open or decidedly shut, photographs with eerie similarities ... each of these, and more, neatly apply to and are revisited in both the detective story and the love story at precise points.

The movie is graphic, but not gratuitously so, and at times, some plotlines are a stretch. But it's a movie, and thanks to some well-crafted scenes, including one of perceived self-sacrifice, and the actors' intricate performances set against a gorgeous soundtrack, the ride up to the film's climax is both riveting and dreamlike.

And what a thrill the climax is, as the story is peeled back layer by layer in a series of enthralling revelations, including a bone-chilling twist that is both jolting and, on a deeper level, a resounding sentiment of the perils in making the past the present and, subsequently, wiping out any chance at a future.

Review: That Evening Sun

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"That Evening Sun" is based on William Gay's story "I Hate to See That Evening Sun Go Down," and the screenplay was written by Scott Teems.

I want to get that front and center, because the writing in this movie is outstanding.

What was written? A story about Abner Meecham (Hal Holbrook), an elderly Tennessee farmer who begins the movie in a nursing home, talked into staying there by his attorney son, Paul (Walton Goggins). Clearly he's miserable, and clearly he won't be staying because he walks out and begins to trek back to his farm in the steamy southern heat, before an opportunistic taxi driver takes him the rest of the way.

Upon his arrival, Meecham finds that his son has rented the farm to the Choats -- Lonzo (Ray McKinnon), Ludie (Carrie Preston) and their 16-year-old daughter Pamela (Mia Wasikowska).

Meecham's not pleased.

So Meecham stays.

If we couldn't tell by the start of this film, we know now that Meecham is as stubborn as they come, and he simply refuses to give up his property that he spent a lifetime building -- especially to the Choats. He squats in an old tenant shack and plans to stay until they leave or are driven out.

Holbrook is exceptionally good here. His brief Oscar-nominated performance in "Into The Wild" was vivid, raw and memorable, and he certainly has accomplished the same with this character.

Meantime, Lonzo's none too happy about the old man making himself at home on his new property. He's introduced to us as a proper redneck -- showing up in a pickup truck that barely runs, long hair and beard in full force ... a six-pack in tow. He reminds me of Dwight Yoakam's Doyle in "Sling Blade."

Some of the greatest dialogue in this movie comes when these two get to childishly jawing at each other.

Meecham: (Watching Lonzo approach him from the house) You even walk like it.
Lonzo: What's that?
Meecham: White trash -- you even walk like it (laughs to himself). It amuses me.
Lonzo: Must be great to be so funny.
Meecham: Helps pass the time.

Then ...

Meecham: How do you expect to keep a farm this size when you can't even keep the lawn mowed? You're in over your head, son.
Lonzo: Yeah, well we'll see about that ... stupid ol' coot. Hell, I'll just sit right here and outlive you, how bout that? (Takes a swig of beer). You're older than Moses anyhow, can't walk for sheeit, fallin' apart before my very eyes.

Hal Holbrook and Barry Corbin (Cooper Dunn/Dogwood Entertainment)

Clearly these guys need a voice of reason, and I found that to be in Meecham's neighbor, Thurl (Barry Corbin), who is excellent. We get some always appreciated old-man conversations between the two longtime friends, but they are interspersed with strategic glints of common sense Thurl throws at Meecham, who tends to be blind to it. Ludie also plays this part, if not moreso, having to talk sense into both Meecham and her husband, who are incapable of seeing what's coming down the road.

The fundamental problem here is that these guys are fighting over something that neither one of them can have. One thinks he can be a farmer, and the other thinks he can still be a farmer.

"That struggle gives them both purpose and also a distraction from the reality of their situation," says McKinnon.

As the movie progresses, however, a funny thing begins to happen -- we find ourselves thinking differently about these two guys than we did when we met them.

Initially, we root for the poor, helpless old man whose property was wrongfully taken away from him by the lazy, good-for-nothing, beer-swilling redneck. But curiously, we start to see that Meecham isn't all that good and Lonzo, while being terribly flawed and does some unspeakable things, is ruled by his own insecurities, anger and fear and is worthy of our sympathy.

This is subtly revealed to us in some very well-crafted scenes: An intimate talk between Lonzo and Ludie by the glow of the TV at night, and Meecham talking only to his dog -- who he adopted because it barked constantly and annoyed Lonzo -- about what put him in the nursing home and, more importantly, what made him leave.

And there's the scene where Meecham walks through his house alone again, playing an old familiar tune on the record player, reflecting on his late wife, seeing the haunting residue of pictures that once hung on the walls. We get the feeling he's not only mourning the loss of his house, but of his life overall ... getting a chilling glimpse of the way things are after we're gone and knowing that life goes on without you.

It sets the stage for a revealing conversation with his son, including:

Paul: There's nothing out there for you anymore, Dad. Things change. Life goes on. And you gotta go on with it.
Meecham: Life goes on, huh?
Paul: For those who let it.
Meecham: I'm an 80-year-old man with a bum hip and a weak heart. How much life you think I got left to go on with? I'm no fool, Paul. The road ahead ain't long and it ain't winding. It's short and straight like a goddamn poisoned arrow! But it's all I got. And I deserve to do with it as I please.

Things inevitably escalate to some pretty grim proportions, including a grisly retaliation by Lonzo, on whom Meecham called the cops because of a drunken rage against his wife and daughter. We see Lonzo's retaliation coming a mile away, but we don't anticipate Meecham's response, which is sickly hilarious.

The ending I thought to be a bit ambiguous, especially after what we see silhouetted in a raging fire that nicely turns this story on its ear. From there, the film somewhat dissolves into a series of images, while I was expecting a little more closure.

But if we let them simmer, it's in those images that we can piece together the rest of the story, and reflect on the decidedly unambiguous messages the film itself may convey.