This review contains ** MINOR SPOILERS **.
I commend this film especially to: those of the Vietnam War generation; those who read and enjoy Southern fiction; those who keep wondering who and where America is.
I rate this a "7" out of "10". More for its vignettes, its people, its postcards from the South; and less for a single story from start to finish
The central character, Barlow, is a failed writer, and a Post-Traumatic-Stress-Syndrome Vietnam veteran to whom no attention is paid
In this regard, he is like the vast majority: untreated, unidentified, forgotten. He is remarkable for other vices, other problems, but not for the disrupted sleep, the nightmares. He shouts "Corpsman" even when he imagines surprising his estranged children with a buy-me-love present that their Mother won't even pass on to them. There is no attempt to explain the symmetric scarring on his back.
The townsfolk know him as an erratic man, a heavy drinker, a divorcee who is chronically behind in his support payments. He works from time to time as a housepainter. He paints carefully, and fills the air with erudite quotations from the great thinkers, philosophers, and Southern novelists who are without equal in any other part of the USA.
There is much to criticize in this film. Professional reviewer Roger Ebert has put his hand on many of the flaws, as have IMDb members. I urge you to surmount those flaws, to slog through them as Barlow no doubt slogged through the inhospitable jungle of Vietnam.
Find what is worthwhile in these 110 minutes. For me it was a mix of the most thought-provoking (and usually unnerving) themes and styles of at least three films: Nick Nolte's WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN (1978); Robert De Niro's JACKNIFE (1989); and Darren Aronofsky's REQUIEM FOR A DREAM (2000).
What is going to happen to this wastrel? In real life, probably nothing would. In film, the pieces are set before you; we expect something will emerge, especially as heavyweights Debra Winger and Rosanna Arquette do not usually show up unless there is something to be accomplished. But will there be enough energy for a true change? For a "quantum jump"? After all, people really don't change much, especially adults. Epiphanies are not a dime a dozen. That Hollywood sells them to us at a rate of one or more per film is part of what makes them true dream-merchants.
Here is where the "scrapbook" aspect took over for me. I did not care so much for the issue of how valid was the plot. I did not bring a videocam to the party. I brought an old-fashioned Kodak "Brownie", to take simple snapshots of each milepost along the way. These produced a fascinating story evolution. There are, as you would expect, stories, plural, interwoven. The story of Barlow is determinative.
When you rent this film, you may want to bring your own "camera." Especially at the mid-point, and near the film's end, the photos for the scrapbook of YOUR life may tumble quite rapidly one after another.
I commend this film especially to: those of the Vietnam War generation; those who read and enjoy Southern fiction; those who keep wondering who and where America is.
I rate this a "7" out of "10". More for its vignettes, its people, its postcards from the South; and less for a single story from start to finish
The central character, Barlow, is a failed writer, and a Post-Traumatic-Stress-Syndrome Vietnam veteran to whom no attention is paid
In this regard, he is like the vast majority: untreated, unidentified, forgotten. He is remarkable for other vices, other problems, but not for the disrupted sleep, the nightmares. He shouts "Corpsman" even when he imagines surprising his estranged children with a buy-me-love present that their Mother won't even pass on to them. There is no attempt to explain the symmetric scarring on his back.
The townsfolk know him as an erratic man, a heavy drinker, a divorcee who is chronically behind in his support payments. He works from time to time as a housepainter. He paints carefully, and fills the air with erudite quotations from the great thinkers, philosophers, and Southern novelists who are without equal in any other part of the USA.
There is much to criticize in this film. Professional reviewer Roger Ebert has put his hand on many of the flaws, as have IMDb members. I urge you to surmount those flaws, to slog through them as Barlow no doubt slogged through the inhospitable jungle of Vietnam.
Find what is worthwhile in these 110 minutes. For me it was a mix of the most thought-provoking (and usually unnerving) themes and styles of at least three films: Nick Nolte's WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN (1978); Robert De Niro's JACKNIFE (1989); and Darren Aronofsky's REQUIEM FOR A DREAM (2000).
What is going to happen to this wastrel? In real life, probably nothing would. In film, the pieces are set before you; we expect something will emerge, especially as heavyweights Debra Winger and Rosanna Arquette do not usually show up unless there is something to be accomplished. But will there be enough energy for a true change? For a "quantum jump"? After all, people really don't change much, especially adults. Epiphanies are not a dime a dozen. That Hollywood sells them to us at a rate of one or more per film is part of what makes them true dream-merchants.
Here is where the "scrapbook" aspect took over for me. I did not care so much for the issue of how valid was the plot. I did not bring a videocam to the party. I brought an old-fashioned Kodak "Brownie", to take simple snapshots of each milepost along the way. These produced a fascinating story evolution. There are, as you would expect, stories, plural, interwoven. The story of Barlow is determinative.
When you rent this film, you may want to bring your own "camera." Especially at the mid-point, and near the film's end, the photos for the scrapbook of YOUR life may tumble quite rapidly one after another.