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What makes a movie “too slow”?
If you have not asked yourself this question, you most certainly will while watching First Cow. Indeed, you will be doing so in the first minute or so of the film, where director Kelly Reichardt gives us a one take shot of a massive cargo ship making its way across the water. She lets you know off the bat the pacing of the movie.
In the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, (the 7th one, which, considering this review, is rather ironic), there is a story entitled “The Tale of the Three brothers”.
Basically, the story shows how three brothers respond to death. Each gets three items from death: the elder wand (which wins ever battle), a stone to talk to the deceased, and a cloak to become invisible (the invisibility cloak). In the end, each brother meets death (albeit in different ways).
Two men stand alone on a pier. One of them hooks a big slab of meat and throws it into the open water. Soon enough, something underneath takes the bait, along with half the pier, dragging one of the men into the depths. Then he swims for his life as the unknown entity chases after him. He gets out in time, but what was chasing him?
That was what I asked my 6 or 7 year old self one day when my dad and older brother were watching Jaws, when I walked into the room. At that time in my life, I had basically no idea what a shark was, much less what it looked like. Naturally, I had to wait and see what it looked like, but we had other things to get done that day and we stopped just before the trip out to kill the shark started. I don’t know how long I had to wait before I saw the beast, but it was on my mind for a long time.
In the 1938 film biographical drama Boys Town, we learned how Father Flanagan (Spencer Tracy) set up an orphanage for young boys, living by the code that there was “no such thing as a bad boy”.
If only he had met young Antoine Doinel, the subject of The 400 Blows.
Let me set the scene:
In the second week or so of returning from winter break in January of 2002, my middle school was having auditions for the upcoming musical, Bugsy Malone Jr. As each of my peers got up and nearly all individually sang “God Bless America” (as it had only been a few months since the 9/11 attacks), I sat in my chair, aware I had a different song planned.
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