Ex0dus

Patient, beautiful storytelling sets the scene for the unlikely glimpse into the life of Jesse James less colored by infamy and vilification. We're offered instead a movie that revolves around the depth of the characters close to James prior to his death, namely Robert Ford and his obsession with celebrity.

Pitt pulls off James' character with subtlety, cunning and a chaotic sort of charisma. The depth and detail of his mind are intricately explored in the silence between words and the way he seems to quietly look through the people around him. Casey Affleck's account of Robert Ford is also very well performed as an envious and emotionally unstable boy who covets the life and fame of Jesse James so hauntingly its almost uncomfortable to watch.

The direction and screenplay are deep and thoughtful, building on a surprisingly rich history. The narrative and camera work are poetic and melancholy, using artistic lenses and beautiful scenery to vividly paint a background befitting the cadence of the story.

Nick Cave and Warren Ellis compose a sad, quiet original score for this film that I am, of course, enamored with. There were several moments I was touched by the movie and hearing Ellis' lonely violin, I could feel emotion well up within me I could hardly suppress. I'm also a huge Nick Cave fan (which is actually how the movie came to my attention) and was very happy to see him make a cameo appearance.

I'm surprised to see anything come out of Hollywood that isn't a brainless action flick and wish there were more films like this one.

This film is, love it or hate it, flawless. I find myself unable to pick out any one element of this movie that was poorly executed or inconsistent. The Director, Frank Darabont, despite his much-less-than-impressive filmography successfully animates every scene and character in living detail. Whats more is the life and detail he brought to his screenplay.

Originally published under Richard Bachman, Stephen King's once-pseudonym, "Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption" is one of the most miserable short stories ever hacked out by any desperately uninspired fiction author in history. The book makes no attempt to build or define characters, background, or story progression. It basically apexes around the one scene in the prison theatre where the writer clumsily tries to convey the point of the book: as hopeless as a man's situation is, his dreams and fantasies live on. After King's catharsis he seemingly looses any real interest in his story and apathetically caps it off several pages later.

Frank Darabont not only masterfully directed this film but deserves much more credit for crafting 95% of this movie purely from his own imagination and being able to construct a very tangible plot line from complete tripe. Credit where credit's due, Stephen King doesn't even deserve royalties.