REVIEW - AIN'T THEM BODIES SAINTS

A pretty but insipid film, insisting upon its importance, falling back on good intention to validate its pretensions. But any diligent, faithful film enthusiast, with the right materials, could mount such a project - more than reverent to its influences but reliant on them, and reliant on the audience's appreciation for them too. As if this is some kind of extension to similar films, to classic romances, stories of escaped convicts, lovers separated, rural American communities. And to Terrence Malick. In adhering to the structures and tropes which he has evidently thorough respect for, David Lowery fails to build upon them, or deviate even slightly from their clear, well-trodden path. And so, his film, which is undoubtedly of true artistic merit, is rendered commonplace. Dear Rooney Mara and Casey Affleck, who are both skilled actors, are naturally too evanescent of spirit to root Ain't Them Bodies Saints, and their relationship is referred to periodically, and left to suspend over the film otherwise, perhaps to infuse it with a sense of character and purpose. But it's weak to begin with. I found it hard to remark enough resolve in either figure. Ben Foster is sturdy in a dud role, and provides possibly the film's only significant distraction, even as his police officer only fulfills obligations dictated to him by convention. I saw style in Bradford Young's cinematography, but it is a derivative style, and he does nothing especially compelling with it. Daniel Hart's score is as light and disposable as the rest of the film, until it intrudes, and drowns moments which might have been more effective if left silent.