The 8 Best Films About Texas
Posted by Dr. Cole Abaius (cole.abaius@filmschoolrejects.com) on March 31, 2008
In honor of the South By Southwest festival in Austin a few weeks back and this weekend’s AFI Dallas Film Festival, and to celebrate the fact that Neil has very little power over me while he’s still recovering from oversized novelty margaritas, I’m presenting this Lone Star-themed Top Eight list.
Texans are known for their large personalities, incredible hospitality and their honorable dedication to the land that they love. As a native Texan myself, only recently transplanted to the colds of the north (who knew there were other states?), I’m willing to admit that we have the best BBQ, the best women, and the only state that can legally secede from the United States at any time it pleases.
Movies have celebrated the spirit of Texas for a long time because they share a common link – a bombastic spirit of individualism, of life-affirming wonder and pioneering adventure. So without further ado, the list, in a particular order:
Blood Simple
Blood Simple plays as if Jake Gittes from China Town asked for A Few Dollars More. The Coen brothers’ first film is disturbing and gruesome with incredible performances from Emmet Walsh, Frances McDormand and Dan Hedaya. Behind them all, though, is the backdrop of the backwater Texas town that allows and even encourages the type of deceit and violence that ensues. The state is full of them. Hidden between the major cities in the deep expanses of dust and highway are towns with populations below 1,000. The Coens paint a much darker picture, but besides the murderous gore, the small town feel is dead on.
Bottle Rocket
Native son Wes Anderson makes his film debut with fellow natives Luke and Owen Wilson. It’s about going crazy, turning to a life of crime, romantic trysts with Hispanic women in motels and being inept at all these things. This sums up life in Texas surprisingly well. The opening scene where Anthony (Luke Wilson) hatches an elaborate escape from a psychiatric facility that he’s free to leave from mirrors Texas in an interesting way – a state where everyone is capable of leaving, but no one ever seems to. Perhaps it’s because you can drive fourteen hours without crossing state lines. Anderson also captures an innocent optimism of Texas – with every horrible misstep, the Wilsons keep a smile on their face and believe they’ll succeed.
Friday Night Lights
Texas high school football is life. It’s a statewide phenomenon that stretches far beyond the Permian Basin. It’s about small towns, big cities, 5-A, 4-A, any-A teams coming together with their communities in the stands cheering them on. Buzz Bissinger’s book and Peter Berg and Josh Pate’s adaptation captures the essence of that spirit perfectly. Its dust-covered shots of bored high schoolers trying to survive in the twilight or rural Texas juxtaposed with the manic roar of a packed stadium on a Friday night reflects how unfulfilling life could be on every other night but Friday. It documents a culture where winning is everything, where people see football as the only ticket out of poverty. Not all of Texas football is that poignant, but winning is still as important.
Tender Mercies
No, not all Texans are alcoholic former country singing stars, despite what the rest of the country may think. But some us are, and Robert Duvall’s Oscar-winning performance as Mac Sledge gives an intimate look at the heartache and redemption that can come from the love of a good Texan woman. The film is quiet and moving. Filmed in Waxahachie, the movie is a romantic drama featuring some incredible Texas music. It also won the Oscar in 1983 for Best Original Screenplay written by Horton Foote – a small-town bred Texan, esteemed playwright and the man who wrote the screenplay for To Kill a Mockingbird. His writing for Tender Mercies is no less commanding and inspiring.
A Perfect World
Clint Eastwood was born in California, but his Western pedigree and directing genius made him a perfect choice to helm John Lee Hancock’s script about a young boy who becomes friends with his kidnapper. The space between Hancock’s beautiful dialogs is filled with the landscape as Eastwood’s Chief Garnett chases Kevin Costner’s Butch Haynes across the state. Whether the kidnapped boy’s Casper the Friendly Ghost costume is a reference to Austin musical legend Daniel Johnston is up for debate, but the haunting brilliance of the rest of the film isn’t. It’s amoral portrayal of an escaped convict plays like a proto-version of No Country For Old Men.
The Getaway
It’s a little disturbing that another director – arguably one of the best Western directors – is from California, but there’s no debating the true Texan feel of his 1972 crime thriller The Getaway. At this point, it’s probably also a little disturbing that so many of the films deal with crime – theft, kidnapping and murder – but Texas is an outlaw state. Steve McQueen is flawless as usual as Doc McCoy and Ali MacGraw’s turn as his conniving wife proves we’re not sexist when it comes to who’s ripping off our banks. It might not be much in the way of character development or trenchant drama, but it’s a supremely entertaining ride that features another Texan favorite – corrupt politicians.
Dazed and Confused
I’d like to bust the myth that Texas is all small towns. Especially from the looks of this list, it would seem that way, but Houston-born Richard Linklater’s brilliant portrait of teens in 1976 could have taken place in almost any city in the Lone Star State. Every city has a football field for teenagers to get high on at two in the morning. Dazed resonates so well because it touches on a whole host of Texas high school memes. We didn’t invent hazing with paddles or football, but no one gets through high school without them. I still remember the day I watched the freshman girls get covered in mustard in a field while being yelled at by the Senior Women about what sluts they were. And the best thing – the state gets older while they stay the same age.
The Last Picture Show
It’s about growing up in a time when a way of life is ending. Nominated for eight Academy Awards, including all the majors, this film is probably one of the best ever made let alone one of the best about Texas. Larry McMurtry’s writing brings the ethos of the state to life, and can best be summed up by the marketing tagline: Nothing much has changed. What’s more, it’s about coming of age in a uniquely Texan way. Every inch of this film comes directly from West Texas – and is justified by modern films from the same area that mirror the same concepts. Nothing ever really changes. Rather, they only move in one direction – and the closing of the movie house is a symbol for the economic downturn that is inevitable for most small towns. It’s about moving away, being stuck, falling in love, being alone and seeing the rest of your life in the eyes of the local pool hall owner. Town’s like the fictional Anarene are like time machines – each citizen can see their childhood, their adult life and death in every other citizen. Director Peter Bogdanovich captures this idea flawlessly and tragically. And Genevieve captures the community perfectly when she says, “One thing I know for sure. A person can’t sneeze in this town without somebody offering them a handkerchief.” It’s a sentiment that’s frustrating and comforting – the type of conundrum that perfectly illustrates the enigma that is Texas.
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