Aug. 25th, 2010

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Last night we went to see The Killer Inside Me at the Drafthouse because I have a deep love of film noir. This is dry, sun washed West Texas film noir.

This is graphic movie, and horrible things happen. There's a level of cruelty, a mingling of sex and violence that is hard to see. But at the same time it is an amazing movie. Compared to some things, like Coen brothers or Tarantino, the movie only contains a few truly violent moments. But the intensity of them, the camera's steady and unflinching focus on that violence renders them overwhelming.

I haven't watched a movie in a good while where I felt genuinely frightened of a character the way I felt about Lou Ford. Some of that might come from the fact these characters are cast in the light of my home state, their accents familiar. But it is also because Casey Affleck is the scariest thing since Christian Bale was Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. (This movie is based off a novel of the same name, and I wonder if Bret Easton Ellis ever read it.)

Lou Ford is scary as hell and not just because I've known men who look and talk just like him. He's a void, a gaping, grasping hole wearing a human face and walking around town. He reminds me of the weird things, the strange and terrible things that happen to our world that we don't have any good reason for and linger like bad dreams.

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