Harry Dean Stanton
“LUCKY” My rating: B+
88 minutes | No MPAA rating
Late in the sublime “Lucky” our title character, an ancient desert-dwelling reprobate played by Harry Dean Stanton, informs the customers of his favorite watering hole that, in his opinion, all we have waiting for us is nothingness.
“What do we do with that piece of news?” someone asks.
Exactly. What do you do, how do you live your life, knowing your time on Earth is limited and that there are no guarantees of a hereafter?
If that sounds heavy…well, it is and it isn’t.
“Lucky” is a deadpan comedy about small town eccentricity that morphs into a meditation on mortality. It’s a classic case of laugh-sob-laugh storytelling.
The screenplay by Logan Sparks and Drago Sumonja is so solid that it would be a terrific vehicle for any mature actor. That the role of Lucky went to Harry Dean Stanton, who died in September at the age of 91, is one of those made-in-heaven movie miracles.
The script plays perfectly to Stanton’s physicality (sunken eyes, hopeless hair, wraith-like figure) and his tough-crusty demeanor. How lovely… in an acting career that goes back a half century with films like “Alien,” “Repo Man” and “Paris, Texas,” Stanton’s last big role features what may be his greatest performance.
Add to this the wondrous directing debut of John Carroll Lynch, a much-in-demand character actor (he played Frances McDormand’s stamp-designing husband in “Fargo”), and you have a low-keyed, rib-tickling, heart-tugging wonder.
Lucky — who never married — lives alone on the outskirts of a small town (the setting looks like New Mexico or Arizona). He is a creature of habit.
That means getting up and doing yoga exercises in his underwear, pausing to take a few long drag on a cigarette. Lucky’s closet contains blue jeans and identical well-worn red plaid shirts. His diet appears limited to milk, caffeine and Bloody Marys (though he never eats the celery).
He’s got no car, so he walks into town, making the rounds of the diner, Post Office and shops before settling onto his stool at a bar where everybody knows everybody else’s name. He makes a point of baiting the chatty owner (the great Beth Grant), her pretty-boy squeeze (James Darren) and the philosophical bartender (Hugo Armstrong).
David Lynch, Harry Dean Stanton
Lucky is a man of few words — “The only thing worse than awkward silence is small talk” — except that he’s a man of many words if you consider his expertise at solving crossword puzzles. And he’s aways ready to rant at what he sees as the stupidity of modern life.
For a cranky old coot who puts away a pack of cigs a day, he’s surprisingly healthy. His doctor (Ed Begley Jr.) can only shake his head at Lucky’s longevity and tells him to enjoy it: “Most people never get to the moment you’re in now.”
Enjoying it. Aye, that’s the rub.
The narrative highlights Lucky’s growing awareness that his days are numbered — it’s one thing to say it and another to actually accept the fact — against a variety of small subplots, all of which provide an opportunity for delicious two-handed scenes between Lucky and his co-stars.
Lucky’s pal, the nattily-dressed Howard (filmmaker David Lynch), is distraught that his century-old tortoise President Roosevelt has run away: “I’m gonna miss him. He’s outlived two of my wives.”
When Howard hires a local attorney (Ron Livingston) to draw up an “end of life” plan that will provide for President Roosevelt’s long-term care should he return, Lucky is incredulous: “Is he a homing turtle?”
He then accuses the lawyer of professional misconduct and challenges him to a fistfight in the alley.
Lucky trades war stories with another vet (Tom Skerritt) passing through town, and is sobered by the other fellow’s memory of a beautiful girl on Okinawa who smiled contentedly at her own impending death.
He gets stoned with a much younger waitress (Yvonne Huff) and together they watch Lucky’s favorite TV game show.
No flash-of-lightning revelation eases Lucky’s transition to the next world; he’s about as cantankerous at the end as he was at the beginning.
But even a loner like Lucky finally gets the message: Enjoy the people around you. In the end that’s all we’ve got.
| Robert W. Butler
Butler's Cinema Scene 
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