It was entertaining and had a couple of the best actors around right now. I also thought it very moving that in a science fiction war movie the only scene with blood was the most tender and the most religious– faith and friendship.
John Candy makes you laugh- and then smile once you’ve stopped laughing- that’s a kind of comedy in short supply!
The man with no name is a force that blows into a town. The physical effects of the man with no name are the moral and psychological effects of sin and vice, selfishness, cowardice, as well as virtue. He wreaks havoc and people suffer and die or find help and strength to free their souls and live fully. The story ends with a restoration of peace and moral order, like the ending of a detective story.
I saw this movie with my brother, and I’m grateful I did: it added a more meaningful medium to the movie’s atmosphere and message.
The photography was beautifully enthralling, carrying the same sad, slowly shifting weather that surrounded the characters. Aligning the lost long way of life of the Comanche with the short lost way of life of the Cowboys, Hell or High Water expresses the feeling of regret when you’ve lost touch with family, tradition and land, even if that family and tradition had some very rotten parts. It also shows just a glimpse of the hope and fears of the next generation after it builds on, and then moves on from, that land.
It starts with paradise lost and then absurd violence and in the end all you know is that you want that lost tenderness and intimacy more than ever and that violence won’t get it back
I think about that movie from time to time- that horrifying ending. What I think makes it so thought provoking is how the machine did what it was programmed to do. The programing was wrong-headed, of course. Humans have callings- that is our perfect programing, and we have the wisdom and the courage, the folly and the cowardice to follow our callings, or not.
I’m shocked at how much they changed from the novel. The natural light really drew me in. You really get a powerful contrast, though, in two gritty characters between Fitzgerald, the man who thinks it’s best to always act in self interest, and Glass, the man who survived because of his generous tenderness and the tenderness of others (he proves his conscience when, all alone in the middle of the harsh bush, he gently touches the dead body of a horse he used to survive- fitzgerald, ruthlessly pragmatic and materialistic, wouldn’t bother with that gesture just as he wouldn’t bother with revenge).