South of Coherence, West of Logic

SOUTH OF HEAVEN, WEST OF HELL (2000)

SOUTH OF COHERENCE, WEST OF LOGIC

Dwight Yoakam, accomplished country western singer, love movies. He has appeared, as an actor, in over a dozen films. On this film, Yoakam functioned as writer, co-producer [with Buck Owens], director, star, and of course, he worked on the musical score as well.This would be a gargantuan feat for the most accomplished of movie stars [Clint Eastwood], whichMr. Yoakam is not. He can be very effective as an actor, when directed properly, as in SLING BLADE and PANIC ROOM. He certainly is a better actor than Johnny Cash was, or Merle Haggard; certainly as good as the hairy icon known as Willie Nelson.

This film is so bad, it is almost good. It is so different, so eccentric, so oblique, that it challenges the audience. The cinematography, by James Glennon, is lush; images bathed in dust and golden light, drenched in blood red sunsets and shimmering mirage riders; ghost-like apparitions.

I think that it is admirable that Yoakam had enough influence, enough money, enough good friends, and enough ego to launch this dark confused tale. But, alas, it does not emerge as eclectic as Jim Jarmusch's mini-classic DEAD MAN. We all love a western, and Yoakam can be applauded for purposefully breaking down many of the cliches of the genre. Next time though, sir, please procure blanks for your handguns that do not sound like cap pistols.The movie has been called self-indulgent, and it is; tedious, even egregious. Actually what this film is remains closer to a labor of love falling leagues short of coherence.

It must be said. It was poorly written. It does not help it that the released version was edited severely. I viewed the VHS version. It is my understanding that in the DVD version, there are a series of "other" scenes that add a dash of coherence. But without strongly defined characters, clear conflicts, and fully realized conclusions, we struggle mightily as viewers.

At times the film becomes too esoteric; like Dennis Hopper's THE LAST MOVIE. One suspects that the cast had fun doing it, but where is the fun in watching it ? No one wants a film to fail.We search painfully for those tiny nanoseconds that might elevate, entertain, or enlighten us. The movie is populated with bizarre characters, portrayed by a bevy of terrific actors; most of which worked for scale, or less.

Yoakam, as U.S.Marshal, Val Casey, is at ease in front of his own camera, but Val comes off as shallow posturing. Dwight, where is the inner strength, anger, and passion ? Several times within the semblence of a plot it is mentioned that an official government letter exists, and in it is the information that Valentine Casey was deceased; that he had died in Cuba in the Spanish-American War. When confronted with this conundrum, silent Val just stares wistfully toward the horizon. So, as an undercurrent, we wonder if Val is really an avenging spirit, or if the whole movie represents a nightmarish dream ?

Joe Unger, as the outlaw Nogales, makes a strong impression, finding a real person, raw-horny-and crude, within the absurdity of the script. Billy BobThornton, Peter Fonda, Matt Clark, and Bo Hopkins, all sleep walk through their brief scenes, lending their visage and names to the project. Bridgit Fonda, as Adelyne, is credible, considering her character is written somewhat incoherently.

The Henry Clan are the heavies. They are led by patriarch Luke Askew, astride a primitive wheel chair, spouting biblical platitudes, manning a machine gun that was mounted on his wagon, and finding time to bugger his daughter on a regular basis. Vince Vaughn cuts a wide swath as Taylor Henry, a killer, and the most lethal of the bunch; killing without remorse, almost without provocation, ice-blooded and stone-faced. Comic relief is provided with the bawdy flavor of the Commedia del Arte, or Shakespeare; down, dirty, and bloody. Bud Cort is fearless as he is dipped in excrement, stripped, humiliated, beaten, and shot. Paul Reubens, as Arvid Henry, seethes like a faggot gunslinger, bouncing about like a Marx brother; murdering, raping, stealing. Michael Jeter, as the Uncle, gets to whine, beg, howl, cajole, and be shot in the groin. Terry McIlvain, as Val's sidekick, U.S.Christmas, is costumed in a colorful skirt, like a South American gaucho, and he makes the most out of his screen time. For the hardy movie buff, this one is a must see; even if it is just to debate later whether or not the movie is a cult classic, terrible beyond words, an abortion, a strung together chain of brain farts, or a brave but undisciplined endeavor.

Glenn Buttkus 2004