Badlands (18.)
Directed by Terrence Malick.
Starring Martin Sheen, Sissy Spacek, Warren Oates, Alan Vint. (1973.) 94 mins.
Nature; Bored Killers.
It’s a film about senseless youth violence but as the end credits roll you are left feeling oddly serene. This story of a James Dean look-alike and his teen girlfriend going on a killing spree in the mid west in the late fifties slips by like a fairy tale Natural Born Killers, complete with Jackanory style narration.
What disturbs is not the horror of the acts but the way Kit (Sheen) and Holly (Spacek) and most all of their victims seemed to be locked inside a trance, unable to resist the course of events. These matters of life and death just don’t seem like matters of life and death.
Its impact is undiminished by the passing of four decades. Its influence can be seen in everything from Tarantino to the new Oasis Cactus kid promotion. This was the debut of the enigmatic Malick, who managed one more film before embarking on a two decades sabbatical before returning with The Thin Red Line.
From his four film career it’s clear that he has a one size fits all approach to film making, squeezing whichever subject (Second World War, Pocahontas) he deals with into his wood from the trees style – innocent narration, opaque characters who tell you everything and reveal nothing; a camera that is constantly being distracted by any passing bit of wildlife or nature.
Any director who spends years editing his film tends to end up being lauded as a genius when in fact they’re more likely to be hit and hope merchants, scrambling around trying to find the point in all the footage.
Maybe it was dumb luck or the lack of options caused by his limited budget, but it is fortunate little miracle that everything fell perfectly into place at his first attempt.
Directed by Terrence Malick.
Starring Martin Sheen, Sissy Spacek, Warren Oates, Alan Vint. (1973.) 94 mins.
Nature; Bored Killers.
It’s a film about senseless youth violence but as the end credits roll you are left feeling oddly serene. This story of a James Dean look-alike and his teen girlfriend going on a killing spree in the mid west in the late fifties slips by like a fairy tale Natural Born Killers, complete with Jackanory style narration.
What disturbs is not the horror of the acts but the way Kit (Sheen) and Holly (Spacek) and most all of their victims seemed to be locked inside a trance, unable to resist the course of events. These matters of life and death just don’t seem like matters of life and death.
Its impact is undiminished by the passing of four decades. Its influence can be seen in everything from Tarantino to the new Oasis Cactus kid promotion. This was the debut of the enigmatic Malick, who managed one more film before embarking on a two decades sabbatical before returning with The Thin Red Line.
From his four film career it’s clear that he has a one size fits all approach to film making, squeezing whichever subject (Second World War, Pocahontas) he deals with into his wood from the trees style – innocent narration, opaque characters who tell you everything and reveal nothing; a camera that is constantly being distracted by any passing bit of wildlife or nature.
Any director who spends years editing his film tends to end up being lauded as a genius when in fact they’re more likely to be hit and hope merchants, scrambling around trying to find the point in all the footage.
Maybe it was dumb luck or the lack of options caused by his limited budget, but it is fortunate little miracle that everything fell perfectly into place at his first attempt.
