Not as gloriously wonderful as some are saying. Not as gloriously awful as others have concluded. Just sort of comes on the screen, meanders like a cowpoke for two hours, and heads off back to the barn.
I won't involve the original (never saw it) or the Coen Brothers side of things (not a real fan). This'll be more stand alone than anything else. The umpteenth telling of an "I'm lookin' for the guy who shot my Pa" kinda deal, with a young girl the as the protagonist this time. She seeks out one-eyed, two-fist drinkin' Jeff Bridges to act as her trail boss on the road to her daddy's killer. Matt Damon intrudes as another interested party, and these three head out onto the frontier.
The trio seek shelter, bicker, split up, save each other at the last second from the baddies (repeatedly). Ya know, your basic Western stuff. Fans keep pointing to that that was how this genre was normally constructed in the ol' days, but does that mean we're gonna go for it just one more go 'round? Much too tired a concept to really have any impact in these modern times.
The cinematography is fair, the score is fair, performances as well. Bridges I got used to after about 45 minutes, though his put-on scratchy drawl was so forced, that I felt like I was watching Jeff Bridges, not a separate entity in Marshall Cogburn. Damon came off the most tolerable, not trying to do too much, which could've been his approach considering his limited role in this whole deal.
But much has to be said about Hallie Steinfeld, who is receiving a great deal of break-out credit here. Yes, she's polished, yes, she's extremely skilled. But too much so. Her auto-pilot readings of massively complicated passages caused her to come off completely unrealistic as a 14-year-old girl (yes, I know she's really 14). And because of her lack of hesitation or a moment's thought to her words, she tended to slur a lot of her speech. Too mechanical.
A supporting nod must go out to Barry Pepper as Ned Pepper (you're a Pepper, he's a Pepper...), totally unrecognizable but delightfully engaging as a late-arriving villain. I thought I was watching John Glover (a hundred points if you remember that name) the entire time. The thrashed face, narrow eyes, and Oscar worthy orthodontia.
Josh Brolin? He pops in for a poorly telegraphed cameo as the dolt marauder in question. Some have argued that he's the typical depiction of an unrestrained, simpleton thug. But when you've built up this girl's dangerous quarry for nearly two hours, we want a real presence as the pay-off. Not what Brolin ends up being assigned as.
By credits roll, a real sense of insignifigance swept over me. The film presents its dilemma, follows through on it, and fades away. Never was I bored (even with Coen's penchant for overwrought nonsense) or not intrigued by the next act, but it had no lasting effect when it was all over. Only in the last fifteen minutes did things get the least bit tense or exciting.
No, I wasn't expecting more (again, Coens are not my thing) or less (it's another remake), just something with a bit more kick, substance. They approached it, but didn't quite cross that prairie into greatness.
Ride with caution, buckaroos.
I won't involve the original (never saw it) or the Coen Brothers side of things (not a real fan). This'll be more stand alone than anything else. The umpteenth telling of an "I'm lookin' for the guy who shot my Pa" kinda deal, with a young girl the as the protagonist this time. She seeks out one-eyed, two-fist drinkin' Jeff Bridges to act as her trail boss on the road to her daddy's killer. Matt Damon intrudes as another interested party, and these three head out onto the frontier.
The trio seek shelter, bicker, split up, save each other at the last second from the baddies (repeatedly). Ya know, your basic Western stuff. Fans keep pointing to that that was how this genre was normally constructed in the ol' days, but does that mean we're gonna go for it just one more go 'round? Much too tired a concept to really have any impact in these modern times.
The cinematography is fair, the score is fair, performances as well. Bridges I got used to after about 45 minutes, though his put-on scratchy drawl was so forced, that I felt like I was watching Jeff Bridges, not a separate entity in Marshall Cogburn. Damon came off the most tolerable, not trying to do too much, which could've been his approach considering his limited role in this whole deal.
But much has to be said about Hallie Steinfeld, who is receiving a great deal of break-out credit here. Yes, she's polished, yes, she's extremely skilled. But too much so. Her auto-pilot readings of massively complicated passages caused her to come off completely unrealistic as a 14-year-old girl (yes, I know she's really 14). And because of her lack of hesitation or a moment's thought to her words, she tended to slur a lot of her speech. Too mechanical.
A supporting nod must go out to Barry Pepper as Ned Pepper (you're a Pepper, he's a Pepper...), totally unrecognizable but delightfully engaging as a late-arriving villain. I thought I was watching John Glover (a hundred points if you remember that name) the entire time. The thrashed face, narrow eyes, and Oscar worthy orthodontia.
Josh Brolin? He pops in for a poorly telegraphed cameo as the dolt marauder in question. Some have argued that he's the typical depiction of an unrestrained, simpleton thug. But when you've built up this girl's dangerous quarry for nearly two hours, we want a real presence as the pay-off. Not what Brolin ends up being assigned as.
By credits roll, a real sense of insignifigance swept over me. The film presents its dilemma, follows through on it, and fades away. Never was I bored (even with Coen's penchant for overwrought nonsense) or not intrigued by the next act, but it had no lasting effect when it was all over. Only in the last fifteen minutes did things get the least bit tense or exciting.
No, I wasn't expecting more (again, Coens are not my thing) or less (it's another remake), just something with a bit more kick, substance. They approached it, but didn't quite cross that prairie into greatness.
Ride with caution, buckaroos.