DIRECTOR/SCREENWRITER
Billy Bob Thornton
PRODUCERS
David L. Bushell
Brandon Rosser
CINEMATOGRAPHER
Barry Markowitz
MUSIC
Daniel Lanois
EDITOR
Hughes Winborne
CAST
Billy Bob Thornton (Karl Childers)
Dwight Yoakam (Doyle Hargraves)
J.T. Walsh (Charles Bushman)
John Ritter (Vaughan Cunningham)
Lucas Black (Frank Wheatley)
Natalie Canerday (Linda Wheatley)
James Hampton (Jerry Woolridge)
Robert Duvall (Mr. Childers)
Rick Dial (Bill Cox)
Brent Briscoe (Scooter Hodges)
Jim Jarmusch (Frostee Cream Boy)
MPAA rating: R
Running
time: 135m
U.S. release: November 27, 1996
Video availability: VHS - DVD
Official
website
|
Sling
Blade is the kind of
movie I wish I could recommend wholeheartedly. On one level,
it's another little-guy triumph like Big
Night and Trees Lounge, in which an excellent
actor decides to write and direct a small-scale vehicle for himself.
In this case, the little guy is Billy Bob Thornton, already a
proven screenwriting talent (he co-wrote One False Move
a few years back) and now, like Stanley Tucci and Steve Buscemi,
a generous director who favors long takes in which he and his
fellow actors can set their own rhythms.
Bad news first, though. Sling Blade, which stars Thornton
as kind-hearted, simple-minded Karl Childers (that name is pushing
it a little), often plays more like a showcase for Thornton's
undeniable acting chops than like a study of small-town Arkansas.
Karl, who's just been released from a mental hospital after 25
years (he killed his mother and her lover when he was 11), talks
very slowly, which calls attention to his rumbling voice and
strange throat-clearing noises. For about the first half hour,
all I could see was Billy Bob Thornton showing off the vocal
tricks he'd mastered.
Then there's the story. Karl goes back to his hometown, where
he finds work fixing engines; of course, he's a whiz at it (why
are movie simpletons always a whiz at something?). He also befriends
a little boy (Lucas Black), whose mother is seeing a mean redneck
(Dwight Yoakam in a surprisingly convincing performance). So
far, Karl is Forrest Gump meets Norman Bates meets Rain Man;
his fatherly, protective relationship with the boy reminded me
of an old episode of The Incredible Hulk, where Bill Bixby
befriended an abused boy, then got angry at the rotten dad and
changed into big, green Lou Ferrigno.
In other words, we wonder when Karl will stop eating French-fried
potaters and go Ferrigno on Dwight's ass, preferably using the
titular weapon. Okay, so now I've lampooned Sling Blade,
goofing on its threadbare elements. Now for the good news: None
of it matters much. Thornton's acting starts to call less attention
to itself once Karl has more people to react to; generally, his
best moments are his quietest. The way he reads a key line addressed
to Yoakam near the end (I won't spoil it by quoting it) is first-rate
and memorably chilling.
And the slowness of the movie gets to you. Thornton gives his
actors -- Natalie Canerday as the boy's mom, the improbably coiffed
John Ritter as her gay boss and friend -- plenty of space to
build their characters. We begin to pick up cross-currents of
kindness and dread from these people, who seem to have unconsciously
summoned Karl as an avenging angel.
There are a couple of missteps near the end: Karl gets too folksy-poetic
in his speech, and as the film builds to its conclusion, we wonder
why nobody sees it coming. But the last two scenes are brilliant,
and Thornton avoids the happy visiting-day finale I expected.
Karl has found a family he loves; to save it, he must leave it
forever. Sling Blade has a dull side, but it also has
an edge sharp enough to draw blood. |
