Is
it too much to infer that the blind man Tommy Lee Jones and his captive come
across before crossing into Mexico, in the 2005 The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, is emblematic of a Tiresias-like prophet, with all the turbulence of
Grecian tragedy? Jones is not much for southern comfort in his later films;
Estrada is no exception, and its opening structure has a satisfying sense of
ridicule about man’s capacity for destruction with the 19th century
technology of projectile weapons. Shooting wild dogs like coyotes, whether for
legitimate purposes or simple sport, has unintended consequences, unraveling
puzzles for quixotic figures like Penkins to piece together in his stark
landscapes, one in which challenging questions about identity and
marginalization are posed, since Estrada himself has very little identity,
other than a dream of paradise, and his bond with his buddy, whose subsequent
tunnel vision might be driven by guilt, just as Norton’s reactionary bile is
driven by fear, and whether or not as the antagonist, this border agent truly
sees the humanity of the “chicano” by the close of the film, I’d argue this is
open ended, despite guilt shredding his psyche to pieces. Unlike the dowager,
Jones is a morally decent conservative, one who posits a true form of
liberality. It is admirable, and partly why we might stand against the border
wall with Mexico.
Who ever made this meme is as whimsical & inspirational as the old Dr. himself. pic.twitter.com/xWi2c0Z0tv— Deplorable Eva (@EvaSofii) September 30, 2017
But this 13 year old vehicle is an unforgiving parable. No
figure like Clint Eastwood’s trainer stands ready to take the consequences upon
himself to alleviate the suffering of a sterile, ailing life. The old man
apparently forgives Penkins, since he lies to the posse of agents on the trail
of our rather dubious hero. Penkins achieves resolution, but what he took to
get there has a gut wincing cost. Although we can assume that a dummy model was
used for the dun pack horse which bucks itself over the escarpment, that was some
significantly brutal ecological footage, nearly equivalent to the courage of
Melissa Leo’s branded, mildly rancid nakedness. Yet Texan mendacity is still
entrancing.
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