Dear Polish Brothers,
Vigorously did I defend your Northfork (2003); I thought scenes in it were poetic and haunting. I found the way it undercut itself to be quite hilarious at times, and frequently poignant at others. That’s some fast food. On the whole, those that I shared it with mocked me enormously(1).
So I guess it was inevitable that I would be crushed by the soppy-reality that is The Astronaut Farmer, a movie with a heart so genuine you can’t help but wait for the punch-line. And it’s not about a loon, see. It’s about a guy who has actually built a rocket in his barn. A great, beautiful, pristine looking rocket. A throw-away scene with a reporter walking around a “rocket graveyard” states that this is how Charlie Farmer(2) got all of the parts for his rocketship. See, even garbage has worth.
I guess I should mention I only got as far as Bruce Willis showing up before I had to turn it off. There was an extended hoe-down scene which was making me feel good enough, but then CF had to go and buy the ride, and then ride it during magic hour alone with his daughter—her hands spread up like wings—and then Bruce Willis shows up and you think he’s going to be all, “Charlie, Space is great! But you gotta stop acting all crazy!” But instead of getting on with it, he launches into this soliloquy in a whisper I thought (until now) reserved for M. Night Shyamalan projects. I don’t know if he turns on Charlie, but I suspect he does. Only to stare in admiration as he goes up into the sky at the end of the film.
Is this what happens when the personal turns political? Northfork was imbued with a cultural perspicuity that carried along all the other weird stuff. The dog on stilts? We didn’t need to know what it meant(3). But here, it’s so corrupted. Remember (in Northfork) that close-up of James Woods’ weathered face and he just says “What’re you talking about Willis?” It’s the cinematic equivalent of that Chinatown My-Daughter-My-Sister slap. And I don’t care what anyone says, it was a moment where a movie demanded my attention in a completely surreal way. There was absolutely nothing in the realm of Northfork that made that one comment as completely bizarre as it actually was. If I had to guess, the character was named Willis specifically for that scene.
And yet in The Astronaut Farmer: corruption! While we have to endure [Bruce] Willis’ monologue-to-the-stars, you see CF’s eyes twinkling and tinkling with such emphatic joy you’d think the man was going to start pissing tears out of them. Only to be set back. Only to triumph. Only to achieve your dreams. What a truly American story.
And if you don’t think we’re talking about America here, look to the exchange between CF and the Mysterious Government Types (who drive Cadillacs!(4)) about WMDs. (“Sir, if I was building a weapon of mass destruction, you wouldn’t be able to find it.”) But it would be different, wouldn’t it Charlie—since you’d actually have it? Yes, even these days it’s worth it to dream the impossible dream.
Please, Brothers Polish. Subvert something other than our cynicism? You’re just making me more cynical.
1. My co-worker Steve made the mistake of watching the director’s commentary on the DVD, which regrettably led him to the assumption that the Polish Bros. were David Lynch-with-an-explanation-for-everything. We got some great footage of Nick Nolte here. He’d broken a shoe-lace earlier in the day, and you can really see the grief in his eye lines as he delivers this monologue. Just breathtaking.
2. Can we please stop it with the destiny-type names. Okay, sure he was an astrophysicist before the farm started going asunder, but even still. I’m divining some from-the-cutting-room-floor dialogue: M’pa was a farmer! I’m a farmer! We always been Farmers!
3. Lumbering humanity soullessly and precariously into the future? Gee, thanks Director’s Commentary!
4. Kudos to Eugene
