Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts

Friday, May 1, 2026

Tender Mercies


 

Palmer, Texas

farmhouse as it is today, just East of Waxahachie

 









































Director Bruce Beresford

Duvall winning a Best Actor Academy Award















TENDER MERCIES          A                                                                                                  USA  (92 mi)  1983  d: Bruce Beresford

You see, I don’t trust happiness.   I never did.  I never will.                                                         —Max Sledge (Robert Duvall)

With the recent death of actor Robert Duvall, who died of natural causes in February at the age of 95, it’s worth remembering the one role that won him an Academy Award for Best Actor, as it’s a throwback to gentler times, where his hugely understated presence infuses the film with a quiet simplicity in this organically realized redemption story about the price of fame, the devastating destruction of the bottle, and the will to recover from horrendous mistakes in life.  Completely unpretentious, never offering any easy resolutions, nothing is ever taken for granted, as each day matters in the road to recovery.  Not nearly as well known as it deserves to be, curiously turned down by David Lynch after he made ELEPHANT MAN (1980), thinking he wasn’t right for the film, it’s aptly named, written by Texas native Horton Foote, a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright who won an Academy Award for the lyrical screenplay, having won the same award for his earlier adaptation of Harper Lee’s novel in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), with Foote developing a reputation for evoking everyday American life in beautifully observed minimal stories that allow the actors to shine, as Gregory Peck also won an Academy Award for his role as Atticus Finch in Lee’s legendary novel, one of the most beloved roles in American cinema, and a film where Duvall makes his first screen presence as the reclusive and pathologically shy Boo Radley.  Foote and Duvall were good friends spanning five decades, with Duvall reading a letter honoring their friendship at Foote’s funeral in 2009 (Remembering Robert Duvall and Horton Foote).  Duvall is known for his larger-than-life presence in Francis Ford Coppola’s APOCALYPSE NOW (1978), uttering the infamous line, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning,” and will always be associated as the level-headed consigliere in Coppola’s THE GODFATHER (1972), where his favorite role, according to interviews, was playing an ex-Texas Ranger in Lonesome Dove — TV mini-series (1989), but it is here that he really carves out a distinctive place in his career, as this is a quieter, more reserved performance, defined by stifled emotions and the decency of the human spirit, listed at #14 of Premiere magazine’s 100 Greatest Movie Performances of All Time.  Described by film critic Pauline Kael as a “bare-bones ‘art’ movie,” intentionally avoiding big grandiose scenes, even the use of close-ups, instead filming from a respectful distance, this is a spare depiction of rural Southern life where not much ever happens, filled with long silences and the dialed-down poetry of spoken words, a reminder of simpler times where honesty prevails, having a neighborly respect for others, and above all, an effortless display of human kindness.  Very few films are able to achieve the authenticity established here, not just in the immensity of the empty landscapes, but in the personal connections, as we’ve lost this ability to connect on such an intensely personal level, where this becomes a beautiful portrait of the human spirit.

Robert Duvall stars as a washed-up country singer Mac Sledge, a star who’s fallen on hard times, almost always seen wearing a Stetson hat, an alcoholic estranged from his family who has hit rock bottom at the beginning of the film, seen as just a shadow through the window, where all we hear are the violent voices and sounds taking place behind closed doors in a remote country gas station motel on an isolated stretch of highway, with Mac eventually sleeping off a two day bender, finding himself completely broke and unable to pay for his lodging, so he asks motel owner Rosa Lee (Tess Harper in her first screen role), if he can work off his debt, which she kindly agrees to, but only with the stipulation that no alcohol is allowed while working.  Widowed at a young age, she lost her high school sweetheart husband during the Vietnam War, which looms in the background like a ghost, leaving her to raise her young son alone, a child who never knew his father.  Surprisingly, Mac ends up sticking around for months, working for his room and board, with a small salary thrown in, literally disappearing off the face of the earth, with no one knowing where he’d gone, where that anonymity seems to help him come to his senses, regain some semblance of stability, and recover from his own largely self-inflicted personal tragedies.  Like a safe port in a storm, they end up getting married (entirely offscreen, even the proposal), but he still struggles with his demons while haunted by his past, as we’re not even aware he was once a major star until well into the picture.  Country music is a thread that runs through this movie, something the studio executives failed to comprehend, eventually losing faith in the film, failing to understand what it was about and how the music connects to what was at that time a massive unidentified audience, providing few resources to promote it, but country star Willie Nelson was impressed by the authenticity of Duvall’s performance and offered to step in to help promote it.  Most importantly, co-producer Robert Duvall wrote some of the songs he sings in the film and does all his own singing, feeling a genuine connection to the character, which is why it works so well.  Authenticity is the key, something movie studios today still have a hard time understanding, producing very few films that fit that criteria.  The film helped define the American independent film movement of the 1980’s by initiating a trend of personal filmmaking that often looks beyond Hollywood conventions.  Emblematic of that is an early scene with Mac playing a song for Rosa Lee’s son Sonny (Allan Hubbard, who never made another film) in the kitchen, which is remarkably minimalistic, yet rooted in something we all universally understand, Tender Mercies Scene YouTube (2:07).   

The relatively barren locations are perhaps more reflective of West Texas, taking place on a little desolate stretch of flat land, yet the film was mostly shot in and around Waxahachie and Palmer in north central Texas by Australian cinematographer Russell Boyd, who has the distinction of shooting one of the most beautiful films ever made, Peter Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), while the film is directed by fellow Aussie Bruce Beresford, whose groundbreaking war drama BREAKER MORANT (1980) helped usher in an Australian New Wave, so it may come as a surprise to some that an Australian is able to so eloquently capture the poetic nuances of small-town America, yet that is what truly elevates this film over so many others.  Perhaps the only other film that gets the unique distinctiveness of the South right, particularly Texas, is Peter Bogdanovich’s The Last Picture Show (1971), which was adapted by Larry McMurtry from his own novel, though the Truman Capote autobiographical adaptation of David Perry’s A Christmas Memory - made for TV (1966) captures the subtle nuances of small-town life in rural Alabama.  Tess Harper was raised as rural and working class herself, coming from the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas, providing just the right touch of firmness, grace, and mercy, with an ever-observant eye, always watching over others.  The film has a stripped down, almost raw feel to the narrative, taking its time, only revealing what’s essential, as so much is expressed by what is left unsaid, where every scene feels valued, contributing to the overall build-up of the interior realms of the characters.  With its themes of sin and redemption, forgiveness, hope, and personal transformation through religious faith, some may recognize this as a religious movie, as it also speaks to the power of prayer, which is where the title comes from, with the kind-hearted frontier woman Rosa Lee, a devout Christian, revealing, “Each night when I say my prayers I thank God for his tender mercies,” which is simply a wonderful revelation, whether it has religious intent or not.  The church also figures prominently, as the family attends a Baptist church on a regular basis, accentuating the singing of the hymns and the idea of baptism (the visual expression of baptism by immersion is rare in films), where it eludes to the possibility of being reborn in the spirit of the Lord.  God does not protect us from the inevitable pains and sufferings of life, but he knowingly sends the “tender mercies” that somehow make life worth living, regardless of the circumstances.  Most people do not recognize this as a religious movie, but to those who see it that way, this is a profoundly powerful film, as religious a movie as you could ever find, as it speaks of God in an unusually secular way, yet is also fundamentally human, expressing the stirrings of love in an existential sense.

Initially released in only a handful of theaters, coinciding with the early days of MTV, which is diametrically opposite to what this represents, it was a box office dud until word of mouth spread, as critics who saw it provided enthusiastic reviews.  While it’s rare for movies to portray rural characters as complex human beings, the back story revolves around Mac’s embittered ex-wife, Dixie (Tony Award winning actress/singer Betty Buckley), who became famous singing Mac’s songs, Betty Buckley from "Tender Mercies" singing "Over You YouTube (3:59), the first country single to be nominated for an Oscar, with Wilford Brimley as her over-protective manager Harry, but their contentious divorce-filled allegations of alcohol-fueled violence left their daughter in limbo, with Dixie refusing to allow Mac to see or speak to her as she grew up.  Now that she’s reached the age of 18, Sue Ann (the wonderful Ellen Barkin sparkles in a very early role) can decide for herself, as their worlds intersect briefly when she pays him a visit, a girl he barely knows, where she remembers a song he sang to her at night, but she can’t quite remember it.  Taken by surprise, Mac doesn’t either, but the moment she leaves he’s seen alone at a window with his back to the camera quietly remembering the song in what may be the film’s most poignant moment, with the song carrying the central theme of the movie, “On the wings of a snow white dove, God sends his pure, sweet love,” Tender Mercies (1983) - “A Song You Used To Sing To Me ... YouTube (2:59).  With the encouragement of a band of local kids who idolize him, Mac makes a comeback, of sorts, balancing the sacred and the profane, singing with them in a honky tonk bar, Clip from "Tender Mercies (1983)" YouTube (3:22).  The film deals with a constant refrain of “champagne ladies” and “broken dreams,” the subjects of his old songs, but also paints a picture of how much it hurts to face reality, expressing the pain of mortality, where nothing can explain the sudden loss of life of a loved one, especially a child, as there is so much meaning packed into such a devastating loss, where there are simply no words that can fill the empty hole in one’s heart, but love may be the closest thing we have, in all its forms and permutations, with real emotion literally filling the screen in the haunting final moments when reality comes crashing into our lives in the most unexpected way, Scenes & End Credits from "Tender Mercies (1983)" YouTube (4:31).  The final musical ballad, the Craig Bickhardt song You Are What Love Means to Me YouTube (4:11), which takes the film to the end credits, feels surprisingly commercial and out of place, completely altering the tone of bare essentials and stripped-down authenticity, though the lyrics do fit the story.  Still, it may be the film’s only misfire.  Mac comes to embody a second chance in life, whose redemptive arc is largely a symbol of a possible resolution to the American chaos and disorder inherited from the 60’s and 70’s, yet despite the anguish and grief associated with death, where there’s no clear answer or road map, love prevails, in all its simplicity and grace, as in the end that’s all we really have to fill the void of meaninglessness. 

Saturday, April 1, 2023

To Leslie





 


































Director Michael Morris

Willie Nelson circa 1965

Andrea Riseborough















 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TO LESLIE        B-                                                                                                                     USA  (119 mi)  2022  ‘Scope  d: Michael Morris

You’re living, right?  I’m sorry it ain’t a fairytale.  We all should have done things differently.  But you’re what’s wrong with you.  Not anyone else.                                                    —Sweeney (Marc Maron)

A small, low-budget indie film that likely would have been reduced to the ashbins of history if not for a sudden announcement that British actress Andrea Riseborough was nominated for a Best Actress award that created quite a stir, seemingly coming out of nowhere, with some questioning the legitimacy of the nomination, especially considering the last-minute social media blitz by some of the industry’s most celebrated artists, like Jane Fonda, Kate Winslet, Charlize Theron, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, Amy Adams, Paul Schrader, and Edward Norton who pushed for her nomination, with Cate Blanchett praising Riseborough as well during her acceptance speech at the Critics Choice Awards, and even former President Obama revised his best films of the year list to include this film based on her performance, yet the outcry of foul play led the Academy Board of Governors to conduct an investigation to see if any guidelines were violated, but found nothing awry, so the nomination stands.  Opening at the South by Southwest festival, the film had made only $27,000 at the box office on the day the Academy Award nominations were announced.  By contrast, heavy favorites Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler, black actresses in THE WOMAN KING and TILL, films that made $92 million and $10 million dollars respectively, were all the talk of pre-nomination festivities, both widely considered favorites in the category, already nominated in the SAG awards (Screen Actors Guild Awards: Homepage), while Riseborough was not.  Putting things in context, Halle Berry remains the only black woman who has ever won the Best Actress Oscar in the Academy’s 95-year history.  Despite claims of the age-old Hollywood white favoritism, Riseborough’s raw performance as a broken alcoholic who contends with a recurring cycle of addiction in the barren outskirts of West Texas fits the formula.  Having seen her in Rowan Joffé’s Brighton Rock (2010), James Marsh’s Shadow Dancer (2012), Eran Creevy’s Welcome to the Punch (2013), Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (2014), and Armando Iannucci’s The Death of Stalin (2017), Andrea Riseborough’s performance in this film is nothing like those earlier roles, as it’s more demonstrably physical, a showier, Brandoesque kind of performance that typically turns heads, fitting the formula of what wins Oscar nominations, raw and earthy, getting ugly, kind of like Halle Berry in MONSTER’S BALL (2001) or Charlize Theron in MONSTER (2003) when they won, but nonetheless took the Academy by surprise because so few people actually saw this film.  Shot in 19 days for less than $1 million dollars, there was no money in the budget for even a single ad, while Netflix spent $25 million dollars on an ad campaign to put Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma (2018) into contention for a movie that itself cost a reported $15 million, leading to ten Oscar nominations, winning three, including Best Director, yet no one contended there was any hanky panky in that process.   

This film fits the clichéd formula used in Bruce Beresford’s TENDER MERCIES (1983), where Robert Duvall won a Best Actor Academy Award playing an alcoholic country singer whose career nosedives, sinking to the bottom of the barrel, eventually atoning for his sins and finding redemption in a wonderfully accurate portrayal of small-town life in Texas, another barebones film that was critically lambasted and died at the box office when it was initially released in only three cities, receiving no studio backing, yet surprisingly received 5 Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, with Horton Foote also earning an Oscar for writing the Best Screenplay, and now the film is remembered fondly, setting a standard for authenticity that few other films are able to match, including this one, while also initiating a trend in more personalized independent filmmaking.  Alcoholism is a prominent theme in Billy Wilder’s THE LOST WEEKEND (1945), George Cukor’s A Star Is Born (1954), Douglas Sirk’s Written On the Wind (1956), Richard Brooks’ Cat On a Hot Tin Roof (1958), Mike Nichols’ Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), John Cassavetes’ A Woman Under the Influence (1974) and Opening Night (1977), Sidney Lumet’s The Verdict (1982), Barbet Schroeder’s BARFLY (1987), Mike Figgis’ LEAVING LAS VEGAS (1997), Ken Loach’s MY NAME IS JOE (1998), Jeff Preiss’ Low Down (2014), Alexandre Rockwell’s 2021 #9 Film of the Year Sweet Thing (2020), and David Fincher’s Mank (2020), yet the most apt comparisons may be Bent Hamer’s Factotum (2005), exploring the seedy world of Los Angeles as it follows a fictionalized world of drunk poet Charles Bukowski, and Scott Cooper’s CRAZY HEART (2009), where Jeff Bridges won Best Actor and Best Song Oscars as a down-and-out country singer on the road, with Duvall appearing in and producing the film.  Riseborough as Leslie Rowlands offers a virtuoso performance who rages and howls at anyone and everyone with a proud defiance, becoming a grotesque portrait of self-destruction, opening in front of television cameras in an enthusiastic moment of euphoria after winning the town’s largest $190,000 lottery, her ticket purchased at the local bar, a single mom promising she’s going to make a better life for herself and her young son by buying him a guitar and a new house, but instead impulsively buys drinks all around and irresponsibly squanders her fortune in short order, leaving her destitute and alone, losing her son in the process.  Morris is a British television director making his film debut, shot on 35mm by Larkin Seiple, and written by Ryan Binaco, who is also a producer, inspired by the life of his own mother, though we never see her downward spiral, revealing only the aftermath years later when she’s already scraping rock bottom, immediately realizing she’s her own worst enemy, a shamelessly ungrateful and unsympathetic character, where watching her make an endless series of bad choices makes this a difficult watch, where literally no one is ever happy to see her.  There’s nothing prettified about this film, as it’s unsparingly bleak.

In the event some are still under the illusion that winning the lottery is the answer to all your prayers, you might consider reading an old Reddit posting from nearly a decade ago shared by redditor u/BlakeClass that sounds horrifying, while CNBC reports that many lottery winners file for bankruptcy within three to five years after winning.  As we witness her descent, getting kicked out of seedy motels for nonpayment of rent, to living with her grown son James (Owen Teague), who she hasn’t seen in six years, eying her with suspicion from traumatic experiences in the past, yet reluctantly opens his doors so long as she promises not to drink, but Leslie quickly violates his trust, stealing from friends, drinking and having sex with neighbors to pick up some extra drinking money, where he’s had it with her, "you're a drunk" - To Leslie YouTube (1:51), angrily putting her on a bus back home to some nondescript small town in Texas, where she’s met by a biker couple, Nancy and Dutch, Allison Janney and Stephen Root, working together for the first time since the popular TV show The West Wing (1999-2006).  Nancy, her former best friend, has no patience and is still infuriated with Leslie for abandoning James at such a tender age, where it fell upon her to explain her mother’s absence to him, raising him for a few years after she left, where she’s looking for any excuse to kick her out of their home.  Leslie readily obliges by drinking once again, leaving her few options other than hitting the bar and trying to pick up strangers, using them for drinks and money while dancing to Waylon Jennings blaring on the jukebox, Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way - YouTube (2:54), only to end up disappointed, as it leads her nowhere except back out on the street, with Nancy getting all into her face at one point, vindictively shaming her in public, “You know she left her kid?  You know she drank all that money away?  Had every chance and pissed it down the gutter!  And her son?  Left him.  That boy was thirteen.  Ain’t got food, and he’s scared all alone without his mama.  Just so you could go out drinking thinking you’re hot shit!”  With her self-esteem plummeted, she has become the butt of all jokes and the laughingstock of the entire town, who view her as an abysmal failure, she ends up sleeping next to a dumpster at a dingy motel, but gets shooed away in the morning by the manager Sweeney (Marc Maron), leaving her pink suitcase behind, which his partner Royal (Andre Royo) recognizes, knowing her entire story, viewing her as trouble with a capital T.  But as she keeps hanging around, Sweeney inexplicably offers her a job cleaning the rooms, including room and board, a pretty sweet deal, but she drinks away her salary and is on the verge of losing that job as well, but has an epiphany moment listening to the last song after staying far too long in a nearly deserted bar one night, Are You Sure by Willie Nelson from his album ... - YouTube (2:42), a little-known gem from his third album in 1965 when he was clean shaven in short, slicked back hair and wore suits when he performed, which pretty much only sold in Texas.  It’s the money shot of the film, at first having to laugh at how autobiographical it is, yet the creeping loneliness of the song is spot on, causing her to get serious for perhaps the first time, swearing off the alcohol and going through withdrawals on her own, where her physical sufferings mirror the mental struggles coping with her failed life, aided by Sweeney, who is a kind and forgiving soul, perhaps due to his own experience with an alcoholic ex-wife that led to his divorce, finally offering her a chance that no one else has ever given her.  While it leads to an improbable finale that all too easily wraps up all the loose ends in a tidy bow, the film does represent a fearless style of acting, where Riseborough has been around for a while, and it’s nice to see her finally get recognized.