The other night, I watched a less than satisfactory version of Clint Eastwood's new film, The Mule. By 'less than satisfactory', I mean to say that I watched it in "cam" version--you know, that slightly sideways, garbley product you get when someone has taken a small camera into the theater and clandestinely filmed the film while snacking on popcorn and clearing his throat every five minutes or so.
Aside from the sideways garblyness, the film struck me as unusually slow and placid for an Eastwood movie--which in itself is a bit of an accomplishment, given the subject matter is concerned with drug running for a murderous cartel. One automatically anticipates a large dose of bloody murder. There is some violence in the movie, but very little, really--and quite negligible compared to the usual drug running fare.
And it struck me, as I pondered the thing over the next couple days, that this was because this wasn't a drug running movie at all. That part was just incidental. For the Eastwood character, it was just another job. He was an old man who had spent his whole life doing his job, and while doing his job, as he comes to understand, he had missed his whole life. It is about the tender trap of love, the pleasant prison of family, the ironic, though deceptive freedom of work, of occupation. There are those who spend the better part of their lives escaping what they truly long for.
Eastwood's character finally sees this pearl without price (better late than never), and finds a way to come home at last.
The more I thought about it, the more I appreciated this story, as well as the way in which it was accomplished. When I find myself pondering a film days after the watching, connecting the pieces, having the "Oh, yes, now I see!" moment--that's when I know I've seen a good film.
Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind seeing the non-sideways, non-garbled version when it becomes available.
Aside from the sideways garblyness, the film struck me as unusually slow and placid for an Eastwood movie--which in itself is a bit of an accomplishment, given the subject matter is concerned with drug running for a murderous cartel. One automatically anticipates a large dose of bloody murder. There is some violence in the movie, but very little, really--and quite negligible compared to the usual drug running fare.
And it struck me, as I pondered the thing over the next couple days, that this was because this wasn't a drug running movie at all. That part was just incidental. For the Eastwood character, it was just another job. He was an old man who had spent his whole life doing his job, and while doing his job, as he comes to understand, he had missed his whole life. It is about the tender trap of love, the pleasant prison of family, the ironic, though deceptive freedom of work, of occupation. There are those who spend the better part of their lives escaping what they truly long for.
Eastwood's character finally sees this pearl without price (better late than never), and finds a way to come home at last.
The more I thought about it, the more I appreciated this story, as well as the way in which it was accomplished. When I find myself pondering a film days after the watching, connecting the pieces, having the "Oh, yes, now I see!" moment--that's when I know I've seen a good film.
Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind seeing the non-sideways, non-garbled version when it becomes available.
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