Blessed Simplicity | Elizabeth Weitzman
Honestly, no 500-word review could sum up David Lynch's new film
with half the eloquence of its three-word title. Clear-eyed and
open-hearted, The Straight Story (which is based on reality) tells
a simple tale, and it does so with a rare, blessed simplicity.
There are hints that Lynch's latest will draw on his past in
the slightly surreal opening shots, which buzz intently through
a hyper-bright small town. But don't be mislead; there's nothing
weird going on behind these picket fences -- well, nothing more
bizarre than a humble dedication to old-fashioned ethics.
The moral heart of the film is 73-year-old Alvin Straight (Richard
Farnsworth). Alvin lives with his daughter, Rose (an out-of-tune
Sissy Spacek), a sweet but slow woman with a pronounced speech
impediment. Alvin is a fixture in his community, and because of
his age and Rose's continual confusion, people worry about him.
Not without reason, either; a recent fall has left him dependent
on two walking canes, and his deteriorating eyesight has lost
him his driver's license. However, the last person to worry about
Alvin is Alvin, and when he learns his estranged brother Lyle
(Harry Dean Stanton) has had a stroke, he ignores the obvious
obstacles, and determines to go make peace before it's too late.
In a few days, Alvin has figured out his plan, which couldn't
be more elementary: drive the hundreds of miles across Iowa until
he reaches Lyle. But since Alvin doesn't have a car, he has to
make due with a thirty-year-old lawn mower. And that's it, really;
for several weeks he putts along scenic routes and highways, always
calm, always seemingly confident he'll reach his goal despite
roaring trucks and engine failure. What action there is takes
place in the tucked-away pockets of the road, after he or, more
often, his vehicle simply can't go on without a rest. At each
stop, Alvin teaches those with whom he briefly connects a thing
or two about life, but more importantly, we learn a new thing
or two about the reticent Alvin himself. We discover the true
nature of his relationship with his brother; we hear a little
about his past experiences as a grandfather, a father and a husband;
we find out he served his country in World War II.
The adventures we see -- a campfire with a pregnant runaway,
a meal in a graveyard with a priest -- are fairly tame, and some
are better than others. There are times when the movie threatens
to become a high-class "Highway to Heaven." But Farnsworth,
nominated for an Oscar in 1979, is so celestial an actor, his
portrayal of this down-to-earth man is nearly heartbreaking in
its elegance. His performance -- along with some exalted work
from cinematographer Freddie Francis -- pulls it all together
so beautifully that Lynch's serene vision becomes grandest in
its smallest moments. The best parts of the film, invariably,
are those when it's just Alvin and us, sputtering along towards
a common goal in silence.
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