Now, this blog doesn't get many
comments. But when it does, my word, are those comments read.
I'd even go as far as to say that
they're taken into consideration.
A few weeks ago I watched Field ofDreams and found myself taken in by the film's wonderful summery
warmth.
A certain Havershambler (who really
should start blogging again) then recommended Badlands.
“It has the same wonderful amber
colours and dusky vibe,” he said, “alongside a wonderful bit of
spree killing and a zonked out voice-over from Sissy Spacek.”
Zonked out? She sounded like a child
reading her “What I Did On My Summer Holidays” essay as she
narrated her “wonderful bit of spree killing”.
The recommendation of Mr. Havershambler
(who really should start blogging again) was essentially all I had to
go on when I sat down to watch Badlands late one night. I was tired
and a little drunk. Surely the perfect frame of mind in which to
watch a Terrence Malick film?
Slow, meditative, gentle, brutal,
enthralling. Martin Sheen's psycopath is a tender, loveable sort. He
murders in a laid back, spur-of-the-moment sort of way. When he kills
– which he does quite often – you can tell that not even he quite
knows what he's doing or why.
He's the elder in this Bonnie &
Clyde relationship, yet both he and Ms. Spacek are essentially
children. Pretty much the first thing they do when on-the-run is
build a treehouse.
They kill innocent people in cold-blood
and with no remorse. And yet, never does this film come across as
judgemental. Their actions are wrong. We don't need to be told as
such, because it's obvious.
So we're saved a sermon, and are thus
able to allow our minds to be drawn-in and subsequently blown.
Mr. Havershambler (who really should
start blogging again) was wrong to describe the spree killing as
“wonderful”, but Badlands as a whole is indeed a wonderful film;
in that it inspires such wonder and creates a glorious warming
atmosphere which you don't really want to leave.
But if you stay, you might die.
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