A loving farewell to the late Harry Dean Stanton, "Lucky" isn't extraordinary, but faces the eminence of Death right in the face, featuring a leading character/actor with whom you quickly sympathise... plus a city, people and a feeling of existencial dread we've seen many times pictured in films about rural America. The monologue at the bar near the end was superb.
Digital. The "Americana" after "Paris,Texas" found a different time, a more distensive and contemplative one, based on some memories, of the characters' diegetics and of cinema's history. Here there's an important element of it, its protagonist - in fact, the same of the mentioned film, "et par cause", of both memories -, but not a look that could move from this pleasant subservience.
[Porto/Post/Doc'17] More than a wonderful story, a wonderful homage to Harry. I don't think I ever felt so much empathy for a character so quickly. And to know he was just being himself for most of it just breaks my heart. He's so fragile but with every single "I-don't-give-a-fuck" still left in him. He makes you laugh & cry at the same time. I hope you're still smoking your cigarette & kickin ass, wherever you are.
This will stand as Harry Dean Stanton's swan song cementing a long standing reputation as one of the great character actors with this rare leading man role. This lived-in yet deep performance eclipses the issues with the movie surrounding him. John Carroll Lynch, a character actor himself, in his debut directorial effort struggles with editing and scripting choices making it a film of theatrical scenes.
Harry Dean was always too plain-spoken and benevolent to be a true outlaw. He remained outside even the outside and still kinda humbly inside, so you can't really categorize him as a counterculture figure. What is indisputable is that though he remained very much on the wider public's periphery, the man was, is, and shall remain a screen legend. This is a small slightly heroic film, testament above all to a man.
This is a beautiful film about life and death and everything in between and a fitting tribute to the career and life of Harry Dean Stanton who gives a knockout final performance that shows that he never lost it, even in the end.
"Harry Dean Stanton is...", the opening credits say right before the title, thus conferring upon one of our humblest players a level of star identity usually reserved for a Schwarzenneger or a Stallone. A lovely farewell, amazingly light considering its philosophical pretensions, and amazingly grave considering its whimsy. The final eye contact broke my heart. Bonus: David Lynch as a man obsessed with a tortoise.