It’s funny — this loving ode to Middle America was financed by the French, photographed by an Englishman and scored by an Italian. The title isn’t just a pun (Alvin Straight’s story goes “straight” down the road . . .or “straight” to your heart. . .or whatever) but also serves as a reminder that great directors, yes, know what they are doing. Whenever you watch something like “Mullholland Drive” and wonder, “wait a sec, is David Lynch really full of shit?” the answer is “no.” Much like Jackson Pollack could paint bowls of fruit if he wanted to (answering the annoying remark of “my grandson could do this”), Lynch can tell a (ahem) straight story if he wants to. Try not to tear up at the end. I dare ya.
2 Comments »
Leave a comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.