Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

The comparisons to Terrence Malick are so numerous and apparent that it is hardly necessary to make them David Lowery’s “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” is a well-deserved homage. The Texas setting, the impressionistic wisps of memory, the quiet naturalism of warm sunlight and dusky magic-hour melancholy all those signatures of the master filmmaker are here.

But watching Lowery’s film also brought to mind another tribute in a completely different genre: Todd Haynes’ “Far From Heaven,” his 2002 appreciation for Douglas Sirk’s vibrant-hued melodramas known as “women’s pictures” from the 1950s. Each movie re-creates established aesthetic touchstones while also functioning as its own tremendously moving work of art. They know how to play all the familiar notes, but they also create their own original and stirring symphonies.

It is a darkly romantic tale, tinged with tender sadness that often is mistaken for nostalgia or sentimentality. Lowery sets his story in motion with an elegantly simple title card, positioning us instantly within time (1970s) and place (Texas). He establishes mood through small gestures a man running his hand along tall grass at dusk, another man firing up an old cigarette lighter and through scene-setting shot compositions filled with lush lyricism.

Mostly what he does is rely on the considerable talents of Rooney Mara and Casey Affleck two actors who seem like they should have existed in another time or maybe even just in our imagination.

In Bob Muldoon (Affleck), a small-time crook more of a dreamer than any kind of criminal mastermind, he finds someone who can embody this sense of both yearning and danger. Bob wants so much more out of life than he could ever have; he believes his own hype because he has no other choice. He would do anything to make it real. But he also wants very simple, conventional things like building a little house somewhere far away and raising a family that probably would have been impossible even if he hadn’t found himself in trouble with the law.

With her huge eyes, strong cheekbones and coolly coy smile, Mara is an actress of such quiet intensity that she can make the smallest moments sing. Ruth has threatened to leave Bob at the movie’s start, but she is also pregnant, which is probably the only thing that keeps her out of prison after they end up in a shootout with sheriff’s deputies at their rundown shack in small-town Meridian, Texas. It’s hard to say who “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” belongs to more Lowery or Mara.

She raises their daughter Sylvie (played by twins Jacklynn and Kennadie Smith), who we see next when she’s about to turn 4. Bob has been sent away on a 25-year sentence, so Skerritt (Keith Carradine), who runs the town hardware store and possibly the town itself, looks out for them. Carradine is an excellent presence here himself; this type of ’70s film from this kind of actor seems to be another key influence on “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints.”

A minimalist approach to storytelling is one of the beauties of Lowery’s script. It is not only about a restrained mood but also lacks some rudimentary information, which forces us to complete the picture ourselves and makes for findings both beautiful and shocking until the very end. Skerritt’s character is a good example: it’s difficult to say whom he represents, what sins he has committed or even who he is in relation with Bob and Ruth.

We understand that he takes care of this woman and her little daughter; however, his intentions can be seen differently particularly when Bob escapes from jail breaking back into Meridian looking for his family.

At the same time, sheriff’s deputy Patrick Wheeler (Ben Foster) enters into Ruth and Sylvie’s life too this time as a patient with no typical traits but strong muscles. He got wounded on the shoulder during that fatal shootout. But why? Does he want just to find his criminal or also become a husband/father figure?

Inching closer and closer Bob writes more love letters to Ruth putting down pencil on parchment thus signaling her of his approach while backtracking every step towards hometown where she resides. And along with him moves trio of bounty hunters. This may sound more eventful than it actually is; continuing Malick analogy “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” has got more narrative drive behind its storytelling than most works by Terry though largely concerned with interstices between actions.

He takes all time needed for each shot so that we could notice everything within: careful camera movement, faultless costumes/sets etc. everything has been meticulously planned by David himself. His movie looks at once stunningly beautiful and harsh; it won an award at Sundance Film Festival for vigorous Otherworldly visuals by promising cinematographer Bradford Young who previously shot such indie hits as “Pariah” or “Middle Of Nowhere”.

Also worth mentioning here is highly original score composed by Daniel Hart consisting mainly of claps accompanied with strings, which further intensifies the viewing experience.

Well, but what about that title? It’s terrible. Heavy, awkwardly made up. Ignore it. “Ain’t Them Bodies Saints” is not a film for casual watching you must find it yourself.

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