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I didn't want to see "Flicka" because I'm not a horse girl and I'm not crazy about horse movies. But we had seen everything else in Watsonville that either of us would be willing to see, so we went.
You know that fascist use of the word "homeland" instead of "nation" or "country?" That revanchist glorification of the peasant? That Nazi nostalgia? That lying about history, landscape, memory, freedom? That offensive word "heartland?"
You like that? You'll love "Flicka."
There are of course very fine aspects to it: the actors really look and talk like human beings (alert to my locals: see if you can spot Tatiana Stone in this turkey, if you go see it -- but don't go see it, wait till it's on video if you're curious. Go see "Flags of our Fathers" if you must see a movie with flags in it). Wyoming is beautiful. The photography is magnificent. The horses -- well, if you're into horses, they're pretty. The soundtrack varies: there's some nice but undistinguished plastic country (which is authentic to the story: for some reason, a lot of white folks are listening to that crap these days. I don't know why. There's good country music to be had, both on the traditionalist end and on the genre-hopping end. Why do people seek out the obviously manipulative dreck?). The song over the end credits is inexcusable. Help me remember: the piece of work that cowrote and sang that nasty bilge is Tim McGraw. I do hope that he sings nothing worth listening to, because I don't intend to forgive him for that song. Or whoever put together the end credits graphics -- picture after picture of smiling girl child and her expensive horse.
The film lulls you with lovely landscapes and an engaging (but incorrigible and disturbed) teenaged girl. Just when she's about to accomplish her impossible feat, you're suddenly awash in stars and stripes. Yeah, she's at a modern rodeo, yeah, this is documentary at this point, but the camera work and editing is making a statement, and the statement is that We Are All Cowboys, and This is the Good Life. Fucking belt buckles. And no, I'm not against stars and stripes as a decorative motif for rodeo costumes: I'm against the smug, reactionary, bullshit message put together by the montage these assholes plastered all over the screen.
Look, I'm a Western girl. I even had a semi-rural childhood with cattle across the road and truck farms down the way. Pig farms, even. My best friend and her other best friend went in thirdsies with the other girl's other best friend on an old horse they used to take turns riding. I wanted to be a cowboy when I was little -- until I went to my first (not last) rodeo. I'm not immune to the smell of horse dung and grass. But cowboyism is not America. It's not even the good part of America. Mustangs do not represent freedom and democracy. A girl riding on her 5000 acre horse ranch does not express the American spirit.
And any father who thinks that his daughter's going to bring home a man's man some day but none of them will every be good enough for his baby girl is a sick fuck.
I wish that "Riding Alone For Thousands of Miles" hadn't already left the Nick: I'd have driven into Santa Cruz for that.
You know that fascist use of the word "homeland" instead of "nation" or "country?" That revanchist glorification of the peasant? That Nazi nostalgia? That lying about history, landscape, memory, freedom? That offensive word "heartland?"
You like that? You'll love "Flicka."
There are of course very fine aspects to it: the actors really look and talk like human beings (alert to my locals: see if you can spot Tatiana Stone in this turkey, if you go see it -- but don't go see it, wait till it's on video if you're curious. Go see "Flags of our Fathers" if you must see a movie with flags in it). Wyoming is beautiful. The photography is magnificent. The horses -- well, if you're into horses, they're pretty. The soundtrack varies: there's some nice but undistinguished plastic country (which is authentic to the story: for some reason, a lot of white folks are listening to that crap these days. I don't know why. There's good country music to be had, both on the traditionalist end and on the genre-hopping end. Why do people seek out the obviously manipulative dreck?). The song over the end credits is inexcusable. Help me remember: the piece of work that cowrote and sang that nasty bilge is Tim McGraw. I do hope that he sings nothing worth listening to, because I don't intend to forgive him for that song. Or whoever put together the end credits graphics -- picture after picture of smiling girl child and her expensive horse.
The film lulls you with lovely landscapes and an engaging (but incorrigible and disturbed) teenaged girl. Just when she's about to accomplish her impossible feat, you're suddenly awash in stars and stripes. Yeah, she's at a modern rodeo, yeah, this is documentary at this point, but the camera work and editing is making a statement, and the statement is that We Are All Cowboys, and This is the Good Life. Fucking belt buckles. And no, I'm not against stars and stripes as a decorative motif for rodeo costumes: I'm against the smug, reactionary, bullshit message put together by the montage these assholes plastered all over the screen.
Look, I'm a Western girl. I even had a semi-rural childhood with cattle across the road and truck farms down the way. Pig farms, even. My best friend and her other best friend went in thirdsies with the other girl's other best friend on an old horse they used to take turns riding. I wanted to be a cowboy when I was little -- until I went to my first (not last) rodeo. I'm not immune to the smell of horse dung and grass. But cowboyism is not America. It's not even the good part of America. Mustangs do not represent freedom and democracy. A girl riding on her 5000 acre horse ranch does not express the American spirit.
And any father who thinks that his daughter's going to bring home a man's man some day but none of them will every be good enough for his baby girl is a sick fuck.
I wish that "Riding Alone For Thousands of Miles" hadn't already left the Nick: I'd have driven into Santa Cruz for that.
no subject
Haven't seen it, no inclination to bother.
thanks for the warning
I love horses, I was horse-mad as a young girl, and fortunately got to have riding lessons and other benefits because my parents, even though my father was terrified of horses, let me do what I wanted in that respect (When I was 7, I was told I could try a couple of extra things. I chozxe taking ballet lessons and riding lessons. I ended up keeping the riding lessons and ditching the ballet because I had two left feet. Grew out of that, but I loved the riding, and the stable encouraged us to learn to horse-keep and hang out learning.
I don't want to ruin my memory. Thanks a lot!
no subject
It sounds like a travesty of the original. I will avoid it.
Not that that's difficult. It's a 1½ hour drive to the nearest decent cinema, so we're careful to only go to films that will be worth the effort.