It's really, really stupid, I know, and I probably shouldn't even type the words...but I've always hoped I would break one of my legs. Preferably doing something (or someone, ahem) really adventurous, but ultimately it doesn't matter. I just need one of them broken.
What are you, a f--king moron?
Probably, yeah. But hold on a second.
Look, a good portion of this femur-shattering scenario is your fault. Yeah, you and your handsome blog have recommended me more fantastic films to see than a lifetime of Saturday nights could ever cover. So, the way I figure it, I need to be down for a long time. And not so bed-ridden that I can't function, mentally or physically, just long enough to watch the shit out of some great films.
What about your family, asshole? They'll be fine. It's not like we live in the Wild West or anything.
What the f--k, Bone Tomahawk, really? How does a movie so f--king badass, so unrelentingly intense, totally elude theaters? How does a film starring Kurt Russell, set in arguably his most formidable genre, find itself as something I'd never heard of? This is entirely ridiculous.
It's a good thing I've got Comcast's VOD service (even though Comcast is chaired by Satan, I'm sure of it), so I could track this one down. But it's an even better thing I've got Sati at cinematic corner., whose wholehearted recommendation is why I've even heard of S. Craig Zahler's directorial debut in the first place. Yet again, she comes up huge.
Set in the sleepy frontier town of Bright Hope, Bone Tomahawk grabs you by the throat from the jump. And then slits it. Two smooth-talking unsavory types, after murdering some sleeping cowboys, stumble into a very creepy Native American tribe. These dudes are some scary f--ks, and quickly dispatch one of the thieves. The other? Well, he gets the f--k outta there. And eleven days later, makes his way back to Bright Hope.
And that's when all Hell breaks loose.
Sheriff Hunt, played by the aforementioned Kurt Russell, quickly smells something fishy when this shady drifter eventually enters his town's only bar. As Hunt (apparently) often does, he shoots the guy in the leg and throws his lying ass in jail. But he's not a total jerk, however, as Hunt quickly sends for the town doctor to see to it that his newest inmate is ultimately taken care of. Unfortunately, ol' Doc is unavailable, so the lovely Samantha O'Dwyer is summoned, and she gets right to work.
Samantha is married to Arthur O'Dwyer (Partick Wilson), who when we meet him, is currently laid-up with a, you guessed it, broken leg. Not only is he going to be bedridden (and let me emphasize ridden) for three months, this lucky f--ker is going to get to spend some quality time with his young wife. He's a proud and stubborn guy, sure, but Samantha is going to see to it that even if his leg is in pieces, their relationship won't be. Aww.
Unfortunately, later that night, those freaky Indians sneak into town and kidnap Samantha, the prisoner she was tending to, and one-third of the town's police force, Nick. Word is this is a cannibalistic tribe, and that they are not to be f--ked with.
Regardless, Sherrif Hunt vows to find Samantha and bring her back, but there's a palpable sense that this is a suicide mission. And that's even with town badass, John Brooder (Matthew Fox, commanding every frame he's in), Deputy Sheriff Chicory (the always fantastic Richard Jenkins) and the ailing Mr. O'Dwyer mounting up and joining Hunt. Four men will leave, but it's not likely that's how many will return.
Never liking Westerns, until they watch one, are the Yays and Boos. We truly had no idea what we were getting into on Halloween night, but this was hands down the scariest thing we saw that night. Though there was this one person in a clown costume...*shudder*. Yikes.
Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!
Booooooooooooooo!
What are you, a f--king moron?
Probably, yeah. But hold on a second.
Look, a good portion of this femur-shattering scenario is your fault. Yeah, you and your handsome blog have recommended me more fantastic films to see than a lifetime of Saturday nights could ever cover. So, the way I figure it, I need to be down for a long time. And not so bed-ridden that I can't function, mentally or physically, just long enough to watch the shit out of some great films.
What about your family, asshole? They'll be fine. It's not like we live in the Wild West or anything.
What the f--k, Bone Tomahawk, really? How does a movie so f--king badass, so unrelentingly intense, totally elude theaters? How does a film starring Kurt Russell, set in arguably his most formidable genre, find itself as something I'd never heard of? This is entirely ridiculous.It's a good thing I've got Comcast's VOD service (even though Comcast is chaired by Satan, I'm sure of it), so I could track this one down. But it's an even better thing I've got Sati at cinematic corner., whose wholehearted recommendation is why I've even heard of S. Craig Zahler's directorial debut in the first place. Yet again, she comes up huge.
Set in the sleepy frontier town of Bright Hope, Bone Tomahawk grabs you by the throat from the jump. And then slits it. Two smooth-talking unsavory types, after murdering some sleeping cowboys, stumble into a very creepy Native American tribe. These dudes are some scary f--ks, and quickly dispatch one of the thieves. The other? Well, he gets the f--k outta there. And eleven days later, makes his way back to Bright Hope.
And that's when all Hell breaks loose.
Sheriff Hunt, played by the aforementioned Kurt Russell, quickly smells something fishy when this shady drifter eventually enters his town's only bar. As Hunt (apparently) often does, he shoots the guy in the leg and throws his lying ass in jail. But he's not a total jerk, however, as Hunt quickly sends for the town doctor to see to it that his newest inmate is ultimately taken care of. Unfortunately, ol' Doc is unavailable, so the lovely Samantha O'Dwyer is summoned, and she gets right to work.
Unfortunately, later that night, those freaky Indians sneak into town and kidnap Samantha, the prisoner she was tending to, and one-third of the town's police force, Nick. Word is this is a cannibalistic tribe, and that they are not to be f--ked with.
Regardless, Sherrif Hunt vows to find Samantha and bring her back, but there's a palpable sense that this is a suicide mission. And that's even with town badass, John Brooder (Matthew Fox, commanding every frame he's in), Deputy Sheriff Chicory (the always fantastic Richard Jenkins) and the ailing Mr. O'Dwyer mounting up and joining Hunt. Four men will leave, but it's not likely that's how many will return.
Never liking Westerns, until they watch one, are the Yays and Boos. We truly had no idea what we were getting into on Halloween night, but this was hands down the scariest thing we saw that night. Though there was this one person in a clown costume...*shudder*. Yikes.
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| So if I could get one frame of a movie tattooed on my chest... |
- Scratching your balls is always cool, right? But when you do it with a gun? Yep, it's even better.
- Can't you see that it's not all bad? From where I'm sitting Mrs. O'Dwyer, it's anything but.
- God, Old West talk is the best. Tell me here. Tell me plain.
- Remember how awesome Val Kilmer was when he was paired with Russell in Tombstone? That's Fox here, but maaaaybe... even better? (gasp!)
- You know with a bunch of frontiersmen, words are going to be at a premium, right? It's a good thing that none of them are wasted. Not a single one.
- Fox's Brooder, despite being impossibly debonair, is truly a f--king badass. At first he comes off as a bit of a smug prick, but as he slowly reveals himself, he transforms into one of the best characters ever. Seriously, this is a fantastic role for anyone, but Fox f--king nails it.
- Honestly, the character I most identified with? Jenkins' goofily pathetic Chicory. He's such a nice guy, so loyal, he routinely brought a smile to my face. And his whole reading in the tub thing was just about perfect.
- If you like stories where things go from bad to worse, be warned. This might be your favorite film of all time.
- Towards the end we get some over-the-shoulder shots that are magnificent. Think Resident Evil 4, except you don't have to be holding a Gamecube controller.
- There is a level of violence here that, while tough to watch, is incredibly impressive. One thing I had to re-watch, even though I really didn't want to. And no, it wasn't...that. (it was something that happened really quickly)
- Kurt Russell. I've loved this guy as long as I've loved movies. But here, playing the grizzled old Sheriff, Russell somehow makes a familiar role incredibly exciting. And when he speaks, everyone listens.
- And finally, even though I spoke at length about the beginning, let me put my hands together (but not really discuss) the end. Holy shit. I will never be able to unsee what I saw in those tamat twenty minutes. In fact, frankly, I'm pretty torn up about it.
Booooooooooooooo!- It's not the time for womanly imaginings. I disagree. It's always the time for womanly imaginings.
- Man, that piano player was a real a-hole. Three songs for a dime?
- How's your tibia? Look, lady. Don't ruin this. Let's talk about another bone, shall we?
- Even ladies in the Old West buy too many damn pillows.
- Buford. What a shitty way to go.
- The mayor's wife? A huge bitch on multiple fronts.
- Well that's an ugly boast. I agree, good sir.
- I feel like I've seen too many awful surgeries lately.
- Dude. Those Mexican dudes? You couldn't give them, oh, I don't know, three seconds to explain themselves?
- Brooder's beautiful, racist horse. All kidding aside, that was a tough scene. Damn.
- That screaming sound is kind of the worst thing ever. You know how awesome it is hearing something transform? Well this is the direct opposite.
- I'm too vain to be a cripple. *sobs*
- So, Wilson spends this whole movie with a nasty broken leg, right? Right. Well, it gets so f--king bad, there was a point where I had to simply look away. Eventually I was rubbing my own leg in that weird sympathetic/just-plain-pathetic way.
- Whatever the f--k those things were, the pregnant ones were even worse. Good Lord, why?
- And finally, and I hate to even mention it, Patrick Wilson, at times, didn't exactly do it for me. I love PW as much as anyone, but there were times where I needed more from him. I understand that O'Dwyer is a reserved guy that keeps his emotions close to his chest, but c'mon. His stoicism bordered on indifference.
If there is a movie out there that you feel is in the ballpark of Bone Tomahawk's greatness, please pass it along to me at your earliest convenience. I may not get to it for awhile, as my watch-list is currently bursting at the seams. But with hopefully a rather snowy winter coming up, there's always a chance I try to make time for it over holiday break.
Or I take up skiing. And just about guarantee it.