The Lone Ranger as Picaresque Tale
by Tony Dayoub
As The Lone Ranger shifts from the point of view of its hero, John Reid (Armie Hammer), to the first-person narrative of his Indian sidekick Tonto (Johnny Depp), the tired pulp story becomes a postmodern picaresque. A type of story with a long literary tradition but seldom seen on film, a picaresque is usually episodic in nature, a fact that contributes to what many perceive is the messiness of The Lone Ranger. Tonto exemplifies the typical picaresque hero (or picaro), noble in intentions but misguided and perhaps even unreliable in his perception of the events in which he is usually at the center. Like Arthur Penn's Little Big Man, this film begins with a rather decrepit Indian as a dubious storyteller, spinning a yarn full of non-sequiturs and magical realism that both uncomfortably overlap with heinous atrocities in order to subvert the typical white victor's perspective of the American western. The first appearance of Depp, made up to look a hundred-odd years old, is itself a metatextual reference to Little Big Man’s protagonist, Jack Crabb (Dustin Hoffman). Crabb is a white man raised by the Cheyenne who encounters famous figures like Wild Bill Hickok and George Armstrong Custer (who, in The Lone Ranger, finds his own visual parallel in a cavalry officer played by Barry Pepper), just before their grand, untimely ends...
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Showing posts with label Barry Pepper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barry Pepper. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Slumming It Lumet-Style in Broken City
by Tony Dayoub
Private detective Billy Taggart (Mark Wahlberg) is a brittle shell encasing a multitude of failings. Jealous, obsessive and paranoid, he tells his soon to be ex-wife Natalie (Natalie Martinez), an actress on the verge of overnight success, that she can't fool him. "I'm a detective. You couldn't if you tried." So, into the mix that makes up Taggart, you can also add a certain measure of arrogance characteristic of some who "uphold" the law. Taggart's hubris is a strong indicator that he is headed for a big fall. With such a perfect noir set-up, why then does Broken City feel so prosaic?
Private detective Billy Taggart (Mark Wahlberg) is a brittle shell encasing a multitude of failings. Jealous, obsessive and paranoid, he tells his soon to be ex-wife Natalie (Natalie Martinez), an actress on the verge of overnight success, that she can't fool him. "I'm a detective. You couldn't if you tried." So, into the mix that makes up Taggart, you can also add a certain measure of arrogance characteristic of some who "uphold" the law. Taggart's hubris is a strong indicator that he is headed for a big fall. With such a perfect noir set-up, why then does Broken City feel so prosaic?
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Movie Review: True Grit (2010)
by Tony Dayoub
Richard T. Jameson has an excellent piece up on his blog, Straight Shooting, entitled "also-true 'Grit'". You can (and most definitely should) read it for yourself, but in it he compares the new Coen Brothers film with Henry Hathaway's 1969 original. His conclusion:
Richard T. Jameson has an excellent piece up on his blog, Straight Shooting, entitled "also-true 'Grit'". You can (and most definitely should) read it for yourself, but in it he compares the new Coen Brothers film with Henry Hathaway's 1969 original. His conclusion:
So if I had to pick only one True Grit movie to take to the proverbial desert island, it'd be Hathaway's, Wayne's, Ballard's and, while we're at it, Elmer Bernstein's: that gentleman was Wayne's music scorer of choice in the Sixties, and the Bernstein sound laid over one of Lucien Ballard's high-country shots of quivering aspen and immeasurable, clear-air vastness imbues the moment with mystery. (The score of the 2010 version, by regular Coen collaborator Carter Burwell, runs variations on "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms," a folk hymn best known from Night of the Hunter.)There are a few things I find particularly cogent about Jameson's review: his perceptive connecting of the Coens' True Grit to The Night of the Hunter; "What she doesn't know, we don't know..."; and, "The beauty of it is, though, that we don't have to pick one True Grit."
The beauty of it is, though, that we don't have to pick one True Grit. Both are worth having. We take for granted that any Coen picture is going to be a work of impeccable craftsmanship, and yes, Roger Deakins is at the camera once again. The brothers' fidelity to [Charles] Portis' novel not only honors a great literary achievement but also makes for a narrative with fascinating interruptions, digressions and enigmatic encounters - in short, storytelling of a perversity the Coens usually have to generate on their own.
Like the book but unlike the 1969 movie, their True Grit has a narrator, Mattie, and keeps faith with her point of view. What she doesn't know, we don't know.
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