Lucky (2017)

Directed by: John Caroll Lynch. Written by: Logan Sparks and Drago Sumonja

Lucky_(2017_film)

Lucky’s story is simple, so there is little one can say about it without giving too much away. That is not to say, however, that the film is unenjoyable. Lucky can be described as being in the same, broad style as Jim Jarmusch’s Paterson, but is far more accessible than the 2016 film. Both works follow characters through the repetitive mundanity of their days, and in both films audiences are challenged to glean enjoyment by identifying heavily with the realist lives of their protagonists (for example exchanging pleasantries with the quirky folks at one’s local watering hole), rather than looking for some fantastical escape. Unlike Paterson, a film with almost no plot )save for some poetically-quaint tragedy at its end), Lucky is quick to introduce viewers to a weighty point of struggle in its protagonist’s life: his bout with mortality.

“He who’s not busy being born is busy dying,” Bob Dylan reminds us in “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding).” For many of us that way of thinking is an ever-present but subtle demon in our heads. Death may come, but not for an eternity. Lucky (Harry Dean Stanton)’s dilemma is he does not know what head space to put that thought in. He is lucky in that despite being a very thin, pack-a-day-smoker at an advanced age, he passes his health exams with flying colors. His miracle body is as healthy as it has ever been. This means that on the one hand he can put the thought of death in the back of his mind with much of the rest of us. On the other hand, however,  he is old, so despite Lucky’s general good health, his doctor nonetheless feels compelled to put existential thoughts into his head. Lucky thus exposes the ultimate limits of luck. A person can be “lucky” in the sense of living for a long time, yet even such “lucky” people must exist with the burden of knowing that each time a new day arrives, they are one day closer to death. This tension contributes to Lucky’s subtle, but compelling dilemma. He is a steadfast socially awkward man who must decide whether he is in a hurry or not to overcome his shortcomings and be at peace with his eventual demise.

 

When I watched the film I did not realize its star, Harry Dean Stanton, had died two weeks previously. While it would be a mistake to project an actor’s personality onto a superficially similar character he portrays, that knowledge will no doubt allow viewers to appreciate the film with an additional degree of depth. Lucky is the light and sometimes funny story of a man contemplating his ultimate legacy, so Stanton’s playing the role is poetically fitting. If simple, multi-tonal, gently-existential filmmaking is of interest to you, or if you simply like David Lynch and tortoises, check out Lucky in theatres today!

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The Cow (1969)

Written by: Gholam-Hossen Saedi, Directed by: Dariush Mehrjui 

TheCow1969CoverMy latest trek to the video store led me to stumble upon a work called The Cow. There was something instantly endearing about it: it’s simple, yet striking box art, and it’s comedic premise (which I will not elaborate on here). Upon doing further research I found out the work is considered one of the great pieces of Iranian cinema. At the time of its creation, the film was blocked by (the then monarchic) Iranian government, the reason supposedly being that Iran was eager to present itself as a modern country, and a black and white film about village peasants did not exactly fit that image. The film’s subsequent international success, and Iran’s subsequent change of governments, however, changed it’s fate, helping to establish director Darius Mehrjui as a leading figure in Iranian cinema.

Mehrjui described Italian neo-realism as a key influenced of his, emphasizing the principle that filmmakers should try and create a reality specific to their characters, rather than aspire to meet some more “objective” conception of reality. The idea of this, is that directors who take this approach end up creating a work with a universalist feel to anyway. Viewers who enjoy the works of Isaac Bashevis Singer or Fiddler on the Roof will find familiar strong points in The Cow. Perhaps “village films/literature” should be recognized as a genre in their own right. The kind of village seen in The Cow is defined by an everybody-knows-everybody dynamic. This in turn makes the quirks and struggles of individual villagers a collective problem.

The film’s central character, Hassan, has moderate similarities to Fiddler on the Roof’s Tevye, a striking combination of affectionateness and gruffness, and of course, a close relationship with a cow. While Hassan does not burst into song or engage in long polemics with God, in one key way he is far quirkier than Tevye. It is the meeting of Hassan’s quirk and the film’s village dynamic that makes the work so effective. In another kind of film, Hassan’s behaviour might make him repellent to others, or at least the but of jokes. The Cow, however, is notable in that Hassan’s neighbours treat him to active compassion. The cliché goes that it takes a village to raise a child. In this word a village raises a man, while as much possible, not infantilizing him.

Perhaps this review has been devoid of specifics. The Cow, not unlike A Ghost Story is a film with an excellent premise, but with little else in its favour that doesn’t factor into the synopsis. I therefore recommend The Cow as in important, at times endearing piece of cinematic history, but if you can, don’t read the blurb before viewing.