It wasn't even that purty

reviewed Mon, 25 Dec 2000

Like I needed another lesson in the perils and pitfalls of high expectations, here comes All the Pretty Horses.  I loved the book, the first of Cormac McCarthy's Border Trilogy; I was reasonably sure that Billy Bob Thornton would make a capable director; and I really like Matt Damon and Penélope Cruz.  I didn't necessarily expect it to blow me out of the water, but I was looking forward to something beautiful, poetic, and moving.  Oh well.  I guess I could always go see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon again.

All the Pretty Horses is not a bad movie, but it's not a terribly good one, either.  Billy Bob Thornton is overly enamored of slow motion and tight close-ups, to the point of distraction.  The pace is ploddingly slow, which I might not have minded so much if the passive-agressive guy next to me, who clearly was unhappy about being dragged to this movie, hadn't been noisily shifting in his seat; letting out great sighs of ennui; and making a big deal out of pulling his pocket watch out every few minutes, checking the time ostentatiously, and snapping it closed.  I'm not sure if his date got the message, but I sure did, and it made me antsy -- I wanted something to happen just so he'd get involved in the movie and sit still.

Maybe it was all that filming under the hot desert sun, but everyone seems listless and uninspired.  Despite all the galloping horses, there's little energy on the screen and absolutely no dramatic tension.  It reminded me a bit of The Hi-Lo Country, which I'd just watched on video, because it takes place in the same time period and roughly the same part of the country, also has Penélope Cruz in a supporting role, and also celebrates the strong bond of friendship.

Matt Damon is, as always, charismatic and appealing, but he doesn't give a very deep performance as John Grady Cole.  Henry Thomas as his friend, Lacey Rawlins, is mostly squinty and sullen.  Cruz is okay here, though I've seen her better (like in All About My Mother).  Lucas Black, the boy in Sling Blade who's grown up some, is the only real stand-out -- he's very good as Jimmy Blevins, the cocky runaway who gets Cole and Rawlins into trouble.

Mostly, the movie made me want to re-read the book.  It's so chopped up -- large portions of it were clearly cut out -- that it gets confusing.  For example, Robert Patrick has a brief role in the beginning, but it was never clear who he was -- only in reading an excerpt from the novel posted on the movie's website did I realize that he played Cole's father.  But don't misunderstand me -- I'm not suggesting the movie should be longer.  Far from it.

The landscapes shown in the movie ought to be gorgeous and as much a character in the story as any human, but they're not.  I love Western landscapes, but these are not at all compelling and don't have anything close to the power of Cormac McCarthy's evocative descriptions (so much for a picture being worth a thousand words).

I'm not sure how it will play to people who haven't read the book, but I don't think those who liked the book are going to be very pleased with the movie.

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