Director/writer: Terence Malick
Photography: Nestor Almendros, Haskell Wexler
Music: Ennio Morricone, Leo Kottke
Editor: Billy Weber
Cast: Richard Gere, Brooke Adams, Sam Shepard, Linda Manz, Robert J. Wilke, Jackie Shultis, Stuart Margolin
A number of big impressive names are associated with director and writer Terence Malick’s second feature—the last before his hiatus from filmmaking for nearly 20 years—starting with Malick himself, the mysterious master filmmaker who went away (and then came back). Cinematographer Nester Almendros (My Night at Maud’s, Sophie’s Choice) shot the picture, backstopped by Haskell Wexler (Medium Cool, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?). Ennio Morricone (A Fistful of Dollars, Taxi Driver) provided the soundtrack, supported by Leo Kottke (acoustic guitarist extraordinaire). And there’s a big fancy-pants and utterly gorgeous sepia titles sequence to start it off.
That leaves the pretty faces to Richard Gere, Brooke Adams, and Sam Shepard, who are players with varying degrees of ability. Days of Heaven is no actor’s showcase, though everyone here at least is competent enough and following direction. More the point, as with much of Malick’s work, is the stunning beauty—of nature, mostly, but note that he and Almendros worked carefully to emulate masterpieces of Dutch landscape painters such as Peter Bruegel (the Elder) or Jan van Goyen and others such as Edward Hopper, Johannes Vermeer, and Andrew Wyeth. But not even these museum inspection tours, in this case, are the main point. I think it’s fair to say the strongest and most interesting feature of Days of Heaven is the simmering sordid story, which ultimately feels biblical in its scope. Well done!
Cast: Richard Gere, Brooke Adams, Sam Shepard, Linda Manz, Robert J. Wilke, Jackie Shultis, Stuart Margolin
A number of big impressive names are associated with director and writer Terence Malick’s second feature—the last before his hiatus from filmmaking for nearly 20 years—starting with Malick himself, the mysterious master filmmaker who went away (and then came back). Cinematographer Nester Almendros (My Night at Maud’s, Sophie’s Choice) shot the picture, backstopped by Haskell Wexler (Medium Cool, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?). Ennio Morricone (A Fistful of Dollars, Taxi Driver) provided the soundtrack, supported by Leo Kottke (acoustic guitarist extraordinaire). And there’s a big fancy-pants and utterly gorgeous sepia titles sequence to start it off.
That leaves the pretty faces to Richard Gere, Brooke Adams, and Sam Shepard, who are players with varying degrees of ability. Days of Heaven is no actor’s showcase, though everyone here at least is competent enough and following direction. More the point, as with much of Malick’s work, is the stunning beauty—of nature, mostly, but note that he and Almendros worked carefully to emulate masterpieces of Dutch landscape painters such as Peter Bruegel (the Elder) or Jan van Goyen and others such as Edward Hopper, Johannes Vermeer, and Andrew Wyeth. But not even these museum inspection tours, in this case, are the main point. I think it’s fair to say the strongest and most interesting feature of Days of Heaven is the simmering sordid story, which ultimately feels biblical in its scope. Well done!
Bill (Richard Gere) and Abby (Brooke Adams) are traveling the migrant work circuit as brother and sister, apparently because they are a couple but not married? It’s the one weak point in the story—I didn’t know it was such a problem being unmarried and living together in the working class—but everything hinges on it so accept at face value. They are also traveling and working with Bill’s actual sister Linda (Linda Manz), who as it happens is our voiceover narrator, a worldly adolescent with a thick Chicago accent (I think? it's where they say they’re from). Linda’s insights (sometimes childish, often acutely right) and Manz’s voice lend a lot of entertaining color to the goings-on, although those inclined to complain about voiceover narration are not likely to be happy. It can be intrusive and is assigned some of the heavy lifting in the exposition.
They pull up for a wheat harvest in the “panhandle”—of Texas, I presume, though possibly Oklahoma. The film was shot in Alberta, Canada. It’s 1916. They find work and go to it. A very fine plantation owner’s mansion sits atop a slight rise in the land with a neon sign flashing “Eat at Andrew Wyeth’s.” It seems to be a great distance away and is a glorious model of ostentatious wealth. “The Farmer” (Sam Shepard) seems to be a kindly fellow in his 30s or early 40s. Word is he is ailing and has not long to live. Tuberculosis, maybe? He’s up and around but at a sedate pace, frequently seated and resting in the shade. “The Farm Foreman” (Robert J. Wilke) is not as kindly and has great loyalty to The Farmer.
The Farmer sees Abby and is attracted to her. He casually asks her to stay on after the harvest. He says the pay will be the same but the work much easier. Everyone has a suspicion what he is getting at. Bill, it turns out, is of low character. He thinks it would be a good idea to stay on—the offer includes Bill and Linda. Bill thinks it would be a good idea for Abby to lead on The Farmer. He thinks it would be a better idea to marry him, wait for him to die, and inherit. Abby sees the pitfalls that Bill does not until it’s too late. As Abby points out, he seems to think it will be a matter of weeks before The Farmer dies. It is actually much longer and of course she falls in love with him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with this era of Sam Shepard?
The story drives on to its tragic ending in a tidy 93 minutes. Very early in even knowing her, The Farmer blurts, “I love you.” Abby comes back with, “What a nice thing to say.” But with Bill and The Farmer pushing her ever closer to him she’s bound to fall in love even just for his generally elevated decency. But all good things must end and soon we are facing a plague of locusts which devolves into nightmarish scenes of fire trying to burn them out or smoke them out. And then the fire goes out of control and we’re dealing with hell on earth, a spectacular disaster and amazing sequence.
I’m still a skeptic on Malick from about this point on. Badlands is an uncanny masterpiece and this comes pretty close—it’s just basically that Richard Gere and Brooke Adams are not Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek. The Thin Red Line on balance was very good. The New Land is where he starts to lose me, relying increasingly more on nature photography and increasingly less on narratives as tightly focused as Badlands and Days of Heaven. It would only get worse with The Tree of Life and its muddled Christianist messaging. I haven’t seen everything he’s done since that, which is actually a lot, a whole handful of features in less than 10 years. But I’ve seen enough for now. I was relieved that Days of Heaven is as good as it is. I hadn’t seen it for something like 40 years.
They pull up for a wheat harvest in the “panhandle”—of Texas, I presume, though possibly Oklahoma. The film was shot in Alberta, Canada. It’s 1916. They find work and go to it. A very fine plantation owner’s mansion sits atop a slight rise in the land with a neon sign flashing “Eat at Andrew Wyeth’s.” It seems to be a great distance away and is a glorious model of ostentatious wealth. “The Farmer” (Sam Shepard) seems to be a kindly fellow in his 30s or early 40s. Word is he is ailing and has not long to live. Tuberculosis, maybe? He’s up and around but at a sedate pace, frequently seated and resting in the shade. “The Farm Foreman” (Robert J. Wilke) is not as kindly and has great loyalty to The Farmer.
The Farmer sees Abby and is attracted to her. He casually asks her to stay on after the harvest. He says the pay will be the same but the work much easier. Everyone has a suspicion what he is getting at. Bill, it turns out, is of low character. He thinks it would be a good idea to stay on—the offer includes Bill and Linda. Bill thinks it would be a good idea for Abby to lead on The Farmer. He thinks it would be a better idea to marry him, wait for him to die, and inherit. Abby sees the pitfalls that Bill does not until it’s too late. As Abby points out, he seems to think it will be a matter of weeks before The Farmer dies. It is actually much longer and of course she falls in love with him. Who wouldn’t fall in love with this era of Sam Shepard?
The story drives on to its tragic ending in a tidy 93 minutes. Very early in even knowing her, The Farmer blurts, “I love you.” Abby comes back with, “What a nice thing to say.” But with Bill and The Farmer pushing her ever closer to him she’s bound to fall in love even just for his generally elevated decency. But all good things must end and soon we are facing a plague of locusts which devolves into nightmarish scenes of fire trying to burn them out or smoke them out. And then the fire goes out of control and we’re dealing with hell on earth, a spectacular disaster and amazing sequence.
I’m still a skeptic on Malick from about this point on. Badlands is an uncanny masterpiece and this comes pretty close—it’s just basically that Richard Gere and Brooke Adams are not Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek. The Thin Red Line on balance was very good. The New Land is where he starts to lose me, relying increasingly more on nature photography and increasingly less on narratives as tightly focused as Badlands and Days of Heaven. It would only get worse with The Tree of Life and its muddled Christianist messaging. I haven’t seen everything he’s done since that, which is actually a lot, a whole handful of features in less than 10 years. But I’ve seen enough for now. I was relieved that Days of Heaven is as good as it is. I hadn’t seen it for something like 40 years.
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