Shotgun Stories (15.)
Directed by Jeff Nichols.
Starring Michael Shannon, Douglas Ligon, Barlow Jacob, Michael Abbot Jr, Travis Smith, Glenda Pannell. 92 mins
This study in the futility of revenge is set in Arkansas, in the heart of America’s rust belt, in a small town called England, (a coincidence, not a dig.) It’s a place of hideous poverty where a rural community grind out their days fishing, beer drinking and ongoing attempts at fixing bits of electrical hardware. It’s like the real life version of the town in the Jack Daniels posters.
The story centres on a long standing dispute between two sets of step brothers. Kid, Son and Boy Hayes resent that their drunken deadbeat father walked out on them when they were little, only to then sober up, find God and settle down to a respectable life breeding four more sons. The lingering resentment is re-ignited at the father’s funeral but such is the general torpor of the place that even after the eldest Kid (Shannon) spits on his father’s coffin, hostilities escalate real slow.
Nichols’ debut movie was made under the auspices of producer David Gordon Green who’s been methodically working the seam as a Hillbilly Malick for a decade. Now he’s been co-opted into the mainstream to make the latest House of Apatow movie but is hanging in there as a producer to see the work is done right.
Nichols does a lot of things very well. It was made on a shoestring budget but they still insisted on shooting it in the anamorphic aspect ration of 2.32 to 1 which makes it look like a Lawrence of Arabia of spare tyres, derelict shacks and murky bayous.
But that sense of backwoods stagnation and inertia is captured a little too well. The monosyllabic characters plod dolefully along towards their meandered destiny and though you respect what is being attempted you can feel the sense of frustration growing among the audience, everybody shifting about on their comfortable seats.
The film’s glory though is the compelling lead performance by Michael Shannon. He looks like David Letterman’s evil twin and his terse, deadpan delivery is so strong you’d think he wandered in from a deleted scene from No Country For Old Men.
Directed by Jeff Nichols.
Starring Michael Shannon, Douglas Ligon, Barlow Jacob, Michael Abbot Jr, Travis Smith, Glenda Pannell. 92 mins
This study in the futility of revenge is set in Arkansas, in the heart of America’s rust belt, in a small town called England, (a coincidence, not a dig.) It’s a place of hideous poverty where a rural community grind out their days fishing, beer drinking and ongoing attempts at fixing bits of electrical hardware. It’s like the real life version of the town in the Jack Daniels posters.
The story centres on a long standing dispute between two sets of step brothers. Kid, Son and Boy Hayes resent that their drunken deadbeat father walked out on them when they were little, only to then sober up, find God and settle down to a respectable life breeding four more sons. The lingering resentment is re-ignited at the father’s funeral but such is the general torpor of the place that even after the eldest Kid (Shannon) spits on his father’s coffin, hostilities escalate real slow.
Nichols’ debut movie was made under the auspices of producer David Gordon Green who’s been methodically working the seam as a Hillbilly Malick for a decade. Now he’s been co-opted into the mainstream to make the latest House of Apatow movie but is hanging in there as a producer to see the work is done right.
Nichols does a lot of things very well. It was made on a shoestring budget but they still insisted on shooting it in the anamorphic aspect ration of 2.32 to 1 which makes it look like a Lawrence of Arabia of spare tyres, derelict shacks and murky bayous.
But that sense of backwoods stagnation and inertia is captured a little too well. The monosyllabic characters plod dolefully along towards their meandered destiny and though you respect what is being attempted you can feel the sense of frustration growing among the audience, everybody shifting about on their comfortable seats.
The film’s glory though is the compelling lead performance by Michael Shannon. He looks like David Letterman’s evil twin and his terse, deadpan delivery is so strong you’d think he wandered in from a deleted scene from No Country For Old Men.
