Editorial
Front Page - Friday, November 5, 2010
The Critic's Corner
David Laprad
Rather than review a new theatrical release this week, I’m going to take a detour down a quiet country road to look at a new DVD. “That Evening Sun” is like the small towns that pepper the back roads of this nation, and of which people say, “If you blink, you’ll miss it.” You might need to hunt it down, but it’ll be worth your time.
“That Evening Sun” opens with a shot of a sour old man looking outside through a window. The man is Abner Meecham, an aging Tennessee farmer played by Hal Holbrook; he’s standing in his room at the nursing home where his son, Paul, placed him. Having no intention of “going gently into that good night,” Meecham packs his belongings in a beat-up suitcase and begins the 20-mile walk to his farm.
When he stops to drink from a creek, he drops a timepiece he’s had for 50 years. As he’s searching for it, a cab pulls up. The driver gets out, puts Meecham’s suitcase in the trunk and opens the backdoor. Meecham learns the nursing home is paying the driver $20 to fetch him, and offers the man $25 to help him find his timepiece and then drive him to his farm.
When the watch proves elusive and the driver insists on leaving, Meecham says, “That’s the trouble with your generation: no follow-through.” Set in his ways, he filters the actions of others through his understanding of the way the world should be, which means the presence of a young person is merely an opportunity to hiss complaints through clenched teeth.
When Meecham arrives at his farm and finds other people living there, he walks up to a teenage girl and asks, “What are you doing here?”
“We live here,” she says.
“You don’t understand,” Meecham says. “What are you DOING here?”
The girl is there because Meecham’s son, the executor of his father’s estate, is renting the farm to her parents. He’s also applying their payment toward their purchase of the property.
That doesn’t sit well with Meecham, who tells them to leave. When they refuse, he moves into the shareholder’s cabin, where he plans to stay until he talks with the police, who he believes will see things his way.
Meecham holds particular disdain for the father, Lonzo Choat, a lay about that beats his wife and daughter and spends his disability check on beer. Whenever Meecham talks with the man, he calls him by his last name, which he pronounces like he’s just swallowed a mouthful of vinegar.
The showdown between Meecham and Choat gets out of control, and both men do things that would shock their neighbors, if they had them. Yet their battle is not about right and wrong, as both men have a claim to the farm.
Rather, it’s about their mulish refusal to yield their ground. Screenwriter Scott Teems, who worked from a short story by William Gay, explores the way the younger generation in this country tries to marginalize the elderly, and suggests the human spirit endures to the end of life.
Despite its themes, “That Evening Sun” does have a sense of humor. I laughed when Meecham adopted a dog and taught it to bark at the word “hush,” knowing Choat hates noise.
And I smiled when Paul found a place where his dad could settle down and grow tomatoes, and Meecham said, “I’d rather grow corn.” That snippet of dialogue contains everything the viewer needs to know about that prideful old coot.
The end of “That Evening Sun” threw me for a loop. Certain things were implied but not shown, and other things were left unresolved, leaving me with lingering dissatisfaction. I planned on scolding the movie, and then it hit me: the last shot of Meecham makes it clear he’s happy with what took place, and that’s all that matters. My sense of closure is irrelevant.
In this way, “That Evening Sun” taught me how a filmmaker can reveal a key element of a movie by controlling my emotional reaction to the story. This makes me a part of the storytelling process, which enriches my experience with the film.
“That Evening Sun” might be a small movie, but it’s a towering achievement for the 85-year-old Holbrook, who deserves a best actor Oscar nomination for his portrayal of Meecham.
He doesn’t seem like an old-timer who came out of retirement to hobble through one last role, but an actor who still has a powerful command of his craft. His performance actually reinforces the themes of the film.
Unlike other aging movie stars, who slowly disappear as they walk toward the setting sun, Holbrook has no intention of going gently into that good night.
Email David Laprad at dlaprad@hamiltoncountyherald.com.
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