Badlands

3 out of 7

Badlands (1973) is a bad film. No. Badlands is a bad story. Yes.

This sort of introduction is probably true for most Terrence Malick films, as Malick finds little value in characters, plot, dialogue or any of those other elements that makes stories what they are.

To ask what this film is about may be a moot point, as Malick does not write stories. Rather, he creates images – spectacular images – and lets them speak for themselves. The problem being, though, is that analyzing images, particularly multiple images within a greater story, is as difficult as explaining why one love poem is better than another love poem.

A quick synopsis of the film goes as follows: Kit (Martin Sheen), a James Dean rip-off, falls for Holly (Sissy Spacek). Holly’s father doesn’t approve and after Kit can’t talk to the man reasonably, he kills him. Because of this murder the two go on the run and in the process kill countless others. Much like True Romance (1993) with a little Natural Born Killers (1994), the film follows the couple in chronological order until their undoing. The real value, though, comes in some of the shots.

Of most significance is the hide-out the two take after the initial murder of Holly’s father. They build a little home in the trees of South Dakota, where they steal or shoot the food they need and spend their days not-so-romantically together. The real importance in these scenes is the contentedness in which the two find themselves. They aren’t passionately wrapped in one another’s arms, nor are they planning any sort of return to civilization. They are contented being together and away in a manner that is not easily scripted nor shot. This may be the first key to understanding this cinematic poetry: Malick appreciates nature and its value over all else.

To continue this point, the two spend the rest of their days (after being flushed out of their Swiss Family Robinson-esque home) in the Badlands of South Dakota, traveling across the dusty and rocky land at night and dancing in the moonlight. One of the most poignant shots is of Kit holding his gun across his shoulders, turning himself into either a scarecrow or crucified man, staring at the moon as it makes its appearance in the dusk sky. Somehow in a film about a man with a gun who is killing people, the real star (no pun intended) of this scene is the sky…nature.

What destroys this film is that it is still telling a story. In fact, it is based on the “Starkweather-Fugate killing spree of the 1950's, in which a teenage girl and her twenty-something boyfriend slaughtered her entire family and several others in the Dakota badlands” (www.imdb.com). Much like In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote, Malick tells the story of treacherous doings in the gentle and idealistic parts of America. Capote, though, knows he’s telling a story and never loses sight of that. Malick, apparently, can’t keep his lens off the grasshoppers long enough to complete the task he started.

Is the film beautiful for what it’s doing? Sure. Should it be doing that? Maybe not.

If you’re looking for an aesthetic experience, visit your local museum. They’re in much more need of your attendance (and may be lost if you don’t) than this film is.