August's Sunday Corner With Lee Liberman GODLESS: chaos and love in the Old West

An elegy is a memorial poem expressing loss and grief; this multi-Emmy-nominated, limited-series on Netflix eulogizes our myth of the unbroken West as a romance of pain not glory. A long tale in seven parts, it is elegiac, filled with sadness. Scott Frank is the prolific screen-writer (Dead Again, Get Shorty, Walk Among the Tombstones) and director of this different Western, executive-produced by Steven Soderbergh. It’s got its own spin on the spaghetti, memorializing Western imagery with solemnity and a lovely mournful score. But despite sad events, the story is garnished with enough droll wit and good will to make it uplifting, not depressing, once you know the characters and buy into the premise. Author Frank initially sparked MeToo enthusiasm by winding his narrative around the widowed women of the town of La Belle, New Mexico, a territory in the 1880’s. Their men were killed in a ghastly mine accident; now they are building a church and longing for their new preacher to bring God. La Belle’s ladies are doers, however, not MeToo-ers. Such losses often occurred during westward expansion; they are a typical cross-section — a rare few leaders and many timid followers.

Rather, the over-arching plot features Roy Goode, (played by gifted young Brit, Jack O’Connell, of Unbroken and Skins) and his messy bond with sociopathic villain Frank Griffin, below (Jeff Daniels of The Newsroom and The Looming Tower), who obviously got a kick out of this bi-polar-ish outlaw and is now Emmy-nominated for the role). The grudge match frames the series but does not camouflage its appeal as an ensemble piece with many characters to like.

Others are Michelle Dockery (Downton Abbey) and Thomas Brodie-Sangster (Game of Thrones), two more Brits who lose their British accents in the West. Among the American cast are Sam Waterston as sensible, honorable Marshal John Cook (below, center) and real Texas cowboy, Scoot McNairy (Fargo, Halt and Catch Fire) as La Belle’s Sheriff Bill McNeu. Quiet-voiced Merritt Wever (Walking Dead, Nurse Jackie) is Maggy, who wears her dead husband’s pants, his mayoral job, and some authority around town. Her pretty lover Callie was a prostitute, now the town’s teacher. La Belle’s children go to class at Magdalena’s House of Rapture, the town brothel, closed since the mine accident (in the second picture from top: Maggy is left foreground; Callie, center). There are miscellaneous others, such as a single-minded newspaperman from Taos who is feverish on the Roy Goode/Frank Griffin soap opera, a German woman artist who rides her horse around town naked except for boots (“airing her private parts”), and a nun who does good works.

The dominant character is the landscape, its enormity subjugating people and rickety wooden buildings. Everyone and thing is dwarfed by vast plains, distant hills, and scrub. The pictures here don’t reflect the beauty of its stark expansiveness or the enveloping dust, fog, smoke, and clouded light. Writer/director Frank (below) and photographer, Steven Meizler, stage every image to leverage our imaginings of Western myth — the solitary rider against big sky, bandits riding en masse toward trouble, guns twirling into holsters.

Flashbacks, most drained of color, reveal back stories like the feud between Roy and Frank, which advances leisurely toward a final show-down. Frank, who can be kind as he is murderous, adopted Roy as a boy and lovingly taught him outlawry. One day the crimes piled up too high for Roy (good at his core) and he rides away from his mentor, who starts a war of revenge. (“Frank’s out there spilling blood from hell-to-breakfast trying to make me feel bad for leaving him.”) After a heist by Frank’s gang, Roy absconds with the mine payroll Frank stole off a train going through Creede, hoping Frank will follow him and the money away from taking revenge on the town. Roy shoots up Frank’s arm, which will be cut off and carried around decaying, Frank’s nauseating relic of Roy’s desertion. But Frank and his men do return to Creede, hang, shoot, or burn everyone, and continue their blood thirsty fugue hunting Roy and anyone who has harbored him.

Frank calls himself a preacher and wears a cleric’s collar. One Sunday in a nameless town, he rides his horse up a church aisle to the altar where he expounds to the assembled: “You know I don’t ever want to come back here and burn this house of the Lord down to the ground. So let’s bow our heads and pray that Roy Goode don’t never show up here. But that if he does, none of you well-meaning souls take him in. Unless you want to suffer like our Lord Jesus suffered for all of us. Amen.”

In-between the debacle at Creede and the final shootout in La Belle, are stories of daily life in the environs, moving sympathetically among characters whom we come to know, backing and filling (including how Frank got so twisted), until the saga finishes perfectly with Roy’s breathtaking long ride home.

 There is Alice Fletcher (Dockery), a Boston woman who owns a horse farm and is come to her circumstance following several horrific events. A widow, she is mother to son Truckee (below), a precocious observer of fact (Samuel Marty), and daughter-in-law to Paiute medicine woman, Iyovi (Tantoo Cardinal). There is sexual tension as Alice’s bond grows with Roy, whom she takes on to tame her wild herd and who schools Truckee on hanging on to the saddle and dealing discreetly with dolts you feel like killing. 

Dockery and O’Donnell make you watch their every moment; they are masters of the unsaid, perfectly-communicated. But Roy needs to ride away to his brother in California before his presence draws Frank to La Belle or Alice’s farm.

There’s Mary-Agnes, ‘Maggie’, mayor of LaBelle, as she tries and fails to outmaneuver the Quicksilver Mining Syndicate’s silvery-tongued talker who easily extorts La Belle’s mine from the ladies’ town council; also Maggie grieves, believing Callie is cheating on her. Blackdom, a nearby town, is filled with famed Buffalo soldiers-turned-farmers, where young Whitey Winn (Brodie-Sangster), La Belle’s self-important, naive Sheriff’s deputy, courts Louise (Jessica Sula). Her father won’t tolerate this ‘white boy and his white troubles’ in Blackdom; he thrashes her. Lovesick Whitey confesses to Maggie, “I feel like I sprained my damn heart.”

La Belle’s Sheriff Bill McNue, below (McNairy), is eating humble pie. His eyesight is failing and with it his reputation as an able lawman. He wants to get together with Alice and looks out for her interests, but the time feels wrong. For the duration he’s on the trail of Frank Griffin — an unlikely power imbalance that makes the death-struggle between Capt. Ahab and Moby Dick look like a fight between equals.

Why ‘Godless’ you wonder. Frank advises a wagon train of traveling Norwegians (whom he lets pass by, graciously, except for forcing sex on one woman): ”There ain’t no higher-up around here…This here’s the paradise of the locust, the lizard, the snake. It’s the land of the blade and the rifle…Godless country. The same God that made you and me also made the rattlesnake. That just don’t make no sense. All man can count on is his self. That’s the truth.”

However, acts of violence are intercut with stories of warmth and kindness. Whenever a person or a horse is shot or women raped, the narrative shifts to something good — everyday small moments of people living their lives. Alice sits at her rough-hewn candle-lit table patiently helping Roy sound out his letters and write his name. He has been civilizing her horses; she is teaching him to read. In that moment in a dark saloon, the kindly, sensible Marshal Cook (our loved Jack McCoy of “Law and Order”) is suddenly shot dead. Frank was waiting for him.

 An apostle of chaos, Frank’s kindness is a deceptive part of his mayhem. Following the murder of Marshal Cook, Frank and his gang happen by a house filled with smallpox-ridden folk, tended by a young woman, herself afflicted. Frank stays to help her with the dying and the piled-up dead. (No one is all bad.) But some have called the violence in ‘Godless’ gratuitous. I don’t think so. Here, intermittent violence is on purpose. The law is needed. Scott Frank shows us with precisely-deployed violence that our myth of the heroes who conquered the West is more a story of the interregnum before statehood, of cruelty and loss rather than greatness.

The absence of civil order predisposes the random violence; events bang into each other without consequence except to cluster and predispose more violence (a pattern called ‘chaos theory’). But statehood will come when the population reaches 100,000, bringing order and maybe God. Back in the day, however, the women of LaBelle get on with defense of their town. Alice is at Maggie’s side and the rest of the town’s womenfolk rain bullets down on Frank’s gang. Roy Goode chases Frank out of town to their final showdown.

At La Belle’s cemetery where the mourners have assembled to bury their dead, a stranger appears. He humbly moves through the crowd to the front with a book (not pushy with a horse like Frank) and reads a famous poem that brings some peace to those who grieve, (and these folks need it to have lived in those times and ably passed down their genes to the present day). Here is the moving elegy offered by the new Pastor Moore (below):

 *Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch….. A thing for fools this, and a holy thing. A holy thing to love. For your life has lived in me, Your laugh once lifted me. Your word was gift to me. To remember this brings painful joy. Tis a human thing, love. A holy thing To love what death has touched. *-----Judah Halevi, medieval physician and poet

Note 1: See the splendid title sequence to each episode of Godless HERE.  
Note 2: Scott Frank describes the mapping and staging of the final battle in La Belle, illustrated with clips from the film and analysis by Frank and Merrit Wever, as reported by the Huffington Post HERE.

The above post was written by 

our monthly correspondent, Lee Liberman

VOD/DVDebut: Leena Yadav's PARCHED tracks women's struggle for freedom in today's India

A soap opera that offers just about everything a woman (along with certain men) could want in a juicy, enjoyable melodrama -- from a nasty, vicious husband who abuses his barren wife to a zipless fuck with a hot, horny and super-caring sex partner, and even a little lesbian-leaning massage for good measure -- PARCHED is a movie with a lot on its mind and a nearly two-hour time span to work out all of its various plot lines. These involve a widow raising a problemed son, that son's new-and-not-so-willing bride, the widow's best friend who works as a stripper-and-paid-sex-partner for the town's horny husbands, and -- oh, yes -- that aforementioned abused wife.

Filmmaker Leena Yadav, shown at right, manages to juggle all these plot lines quite well, so that we easily follow their machinations, together with all the ups and downs of our quartet who are doing their best to bring India and its women into some kind of state of modernity. It ain't easy, given the patriarchy that has ruled this country (despite the blip that was Indira Gandhi) for so long. As writer, producer and director of the film, Ms Yadav sees to it that all these stories and characters get served -- eventually with their just desserts. And while the movie allows too much coincidence for us to take it all that seriously as drama, it also turns its main character, the mother known as Rani (Tanishtha Chaterjee, below), into a full-bodied warts-and-all woman.

In movies such as this one, the men are usually pictured as less than sterling. And so it is here, with the exception of the fellow who has brought his "foreign" wife to town and is helping the women start and run their own little weaving/textiles/tchotchke business. The remainder of the guys -- with the exception of that "sex therapist" who is rather like a deus ex machina with penis -- are either venal and nasty or, as in the case of the fellow (below) who pines for that stripper (and also works for her boss), simply stupid.

Especially nasty is the abusive husband, below, who manages to lambast his poor wife at every turn, no matter what. (His comeuppance proves particularly awful and more than deserved.)

But it is the women who count most, and they are brought of fine life by the quartet of actresses who play the roles. The stripper/sex worker (Suveen Chawla, two photos above) is gorgeous and feisty. In real life, however her attitude would probably have gotten her a number of good beatings by now. Their lack is part of the melodramatic fun here.

As the abused wife, Radhika Apte, above, is properly submissive, slow and sweet, and her quiet growth into a stronger woman is one of the more real aspects of the movie.

The young bride of Rani's shithead son is the female we learn least about, but, as played by Lehar Khan, above, she is innocence and sweetness personified. And since the character has most of her life still in front of her, we can simply be happy at the prospect of her eventual freedom. How and why this happens is among the movie's more moving moments.

Visually, Parched is a knockout, featuring some great locations and excellent cinematography (by Russell Carpenter); the consciousness-raising among the women proves intelligent and enjoyable; and overall the film is a perfectly good example of soap-opera, Indian style -- feminist and a lot of fun.

From Wolfe Releasing/Wolfe Video, after a limited theatrical run, the movie hits both DVD and VOD this coming Tuesday, August 9 -- for purchase and/or rental.

SCN: Paula Ortiz's CHRYSALIS--three women in three periods of Spanish history

A most intriguing exercise in connections -- social, political, economic and especially amorous and by extension, I think, feminist -- CHRYSALIS, the first full-length film from writer/director Paula Ortiz keeps us alert and concerned thanks to some excellent performances and stunning cinematography (the latter is via Miguel Ángel Amoedo, of Fermat's Room and a lot of Spanish TV), the former from the actresses who play the three women:   SCN regular Maribel Verdú (below), Leticia Dolera (further below and recently seen as the bride in [REC] 3!) and Luisa Gavasa (shown in the penultimate photo and new to me, as she's done mostly Spanish TV).

Other than via theme(s), there is no connection between these women or their stories, as the time frame moves from 1941 in a near-desert-like community during wartime, back to 1923 in a beautiful, secluded mountain village, and then far ahead to 1975 in the big city as the long fascist dictatorship was drawing to a close. The women's stories are unusual enough to keep us interested -- two engage in full-out love relationships that come to sad ends, while the third holds back, waiting for that someone special (movies play a big part in her life).

Ortiz moves us back and forth between the tales, holding us pretty firmly in her grasp, thanks not only to the strength of the three actresses but literally to every cast member, well-chosen and delivering exactly what is needed.

If the emotional high point, for me, at least, comes at a moment (shown above) -- in which superb visual technique combines with storytelling, character and my own anti-Franco feelings -- yours may occur elsewhere. Whatever the filmmaker loses by offering us three stories in which none of the character connect on the personal level, she gains back via the beauty of her images, the strength of the performances and the quiet state of wonder (in both meanings of the word) in which she leaves us pondering.

The original Spanish title of the film is De tu ventana a la mía, which I believe translates as From Your Window to Mine, and is a much better -- more personal and connective --- name for this film, even if less marquee-friendly. Chrysalis is too overused a title, though a butterfly does appear in one story, with its life cycle discussed at some length.

The film will be shown one more time -- this afternoon, Sunday, December 9, at 4pm -- at the Walter Reade theater -- and Ms Ortiz, shown at right, will appear in-person for a post-screening Q&A.

Spanish Cinema Now continues through December 16. See the entire program by clicking the link above.

DVDebut: The Munden/Coxon adaptation of THE CRIMSON PETAL AND THE WHITE

Not having the read the novel by Michel Faber from which this British television mini-series -- THE CRIMSON PETAL AND THE WHITE -- has been adapted, I will not ask you to skip the adaptation and read the novel, as did The New York Times critic who reviewed the mini series when it was first shown on American TV a week or so back. No doubt the novel was better than its filmed version. (When are they not, with the exception of John Fowles' The Magus?) I will only suggest that if you want to see a most unusual tale, filmed darkly and beautifully, well- (and in one major instance, surprisingly-) cast and acted, feminist and anti-class to its core yet strangely elusive, too, then take a chance on this story of 1870s London and its bordellos, bourgeoisie and bonhommie (the latter among men, at least; the women here are not so lucky).

Adapted by Lucinda Coxon and directed by Marc Munden, this story of a prostitute named Sugar who is determined to better her station in life and perhaps wreak revenge on the males who have tampered and toyed with her, the 244-minute, four-part series begins with Sugar visiting a prostie friend who's been beaten to near death by two clients. The dank, ugly ambiance, shown in brief, deft strokes, coupled with the utter sadness of this scene grabs us immediately and lets us know that we are in territory imagined with a good grip on reality.

Sugar is played by that excellent and increasingly versatile actress Romola Garai, above, and she is by turns lovely, frightening and exquisite. She keeps a part of Sugar's character from us, and this is all to the good, since she also learns about herself and about life as she moves along.

Garai is expectedly excellent, but the performance by the fellow who plays her would-be savior and symbolic/literal "Sugar" daddy, William Rackham, is anything but expected. Rackham is played by Chris O'Dowd. Yes, the numbskull from The IT Crowd who has lately appeared in U.S. films from Gulliver's Travels to Bridesmaids to Friends With Kids.

O'Dowd is a terrific comedian, with a special kind of denseness that is securely his own. That this same denseness would travel from comedy to drama and the tragedy of senseless class distinctions is somewhat of a shock. How did they have the idea to cast this actor, and he to go for broke with all cylinders burning?

However, it happened, O'Dowd is simply astounding in this role -- which should open up all sorts of new possibilities for his career.

Also excellent are Amanda Hale as Rackham's unstable wife (at left) and Gillian Anderson, below, as Sugar' madame-and-more. Every role -- including those played by Richard E. Grant and Shirley Henderson -- is cast with enormous smarts and delivered with conviction and style. 

The Crimson Petal and The White, from Acorn Media -- the company currently giving us the best in British --  is available tomorrow, Tuesday, September 25, on DVD in a two-disc set, with 16:9 widescreen format and SDH subtitles, for sale or rental. Extras include deleted scenes, interviews with cast, director, and key crew, and character biographies.   

A dark original worth experiencing: Lucky McKee's and Jack Ketchum's THE WOMAN

I've seen Pollyanna McIntosh in several movies (Sex and Death 101, Land of the Lost, Burke and Hare, and Exam) but only really noticed her in the latter film. Anyone lucky enough to see this actress in the current THE WOMAN will not soon forget her. Ms McIntosh, good as she is and given the vagaries of the acting profession, will be lucky to ever essay a movie role this memorable again. It's staggering, and she gives it her all -- despite (maybe because of) being severely limited in the dialog department. Written by Lucky McKee and Jack Ketchum, based on their novel and directed by Mr. McKee, the movie is a broadside -- but a damned convincing one -- about the male prerogative gone utterly and irresolutely bonkers.

Mr McKee, shown at right -- who earlier gave us the excellent Brian Cox film Red, the odd and creepily endearing May, and the interesting but not entirely successful The Woods -- has now given us an original and probable cult classic that, if I'm right, will easily stand the test of time. (He's used his May leading lady, Angela Bettis, in the mother role here, and Ms Bettis has lost none of her creepy charm.) Mainly, though, McKee and Ketchum have created a modern mythic title character likely to haunt the dreams of men (she's sexual and scary in equal measure) while creating the kind of female heroine that mere money (read Hollywood blockbuster stuff) could never buy.

No: This woman, above, is a creation of pure talent (the filmmakers' and Ms McIntosh's) and part wild-but-on-target reading of the zeitgeist -- past, present and most probably (given the male-of-the-species' slow-learning process) future.

The primary male in this film is played -- and very well -- by Sean Bridgers (above), an actor who works a lot, mostly in TV and cable and therefore has been little seen by TM. I'll certainly remember him from this movie. From the film's initial scene, male behavior, of both father and son (below -- an impressive debut from Zach Rand) is off-base and worrisome. We only slowly learn just how unhealthy these guys are, and one of the real beauties of the film is that, by the time they get their comeuppance, viewers will be able to handle it surprisingly well, despite, hmmm, you'll see....

Because the film, pre-credit, begins in a kind of over-the-top manner, you would imagine that we would be ready for just about anything. Yet the finale takes us places that still manage to shock -- particularly with the introduction of a character that, given what we know, is a surprise that makes perfect sense. (Also, the actress that plays her -- I believe it's Alexa Marcigliano -- does an amazing job of something I don't recall ever seeing a woman do on screen.)

Ms Bettis, shown at left, is excellent, as usual, and so are the two girls who play her offsrping: Lauren Ashley Carter as the fraught older daughter and Shyla Molhusen as the younger (and aptly-named) Darlin'.

The Woman has cult film written all over it, but unlike some of the movies that make it to that status, it will, I suspect, deservedly retain its reputation in the years to come. It delivers on every front -- from design to execution, theme to characterization, and yes, horror hounds, in the blood, guts and gore departments, too.

Being shown theatrically as part of the late-night series at AMC theaters presented by BloodyDisgusting.com together with The Collective, this film is definitely the best thing in the series so far. Click here for screening dates and times, and watch for VOD and/or streaming possibilities -- plus an eventual DVD release, as well.