When I saw previews for this film, I thought "Its a movie about fishing, why would I want to see that?" This is as much of a fishing movie as Hoosiers is about basketball, or Field of Dreams is about baseball.
The story is elegant, the narrative beautiful, the characters deftly drawn. The relationship between the father and two sons is really interesting, and I love the interplay between them. There is great sadness, and also great humour. While nostalgic, I don't think the film ever becomes maudlin, and by the time the film draws to its inevitable close, I feel the same sense of loss and regret every time.
This movie does what films are supposed to do - touch one's heart and mind.
The closing lines, taken from a short story by McLean, are as haunting as they are beautiful:
"But when I am alone in the half light of the canyon all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul and memories. And the sounds of the Big Black Foot River and a four count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."
The story is elegant, the narrative beautiful, the characters deftly drawn. The relationship between the father and two sons is really interesting, and I love the interplay between them. There is great sadness, and also great humour. While nostalgic, I don't think the film ever becomes maudlin, and by the time the film draws to its inevitable close, I feel the same sense of loss and regret every time.
This movie does what films are supposed to do - touch one's heart and mind.
The closing lines, taken from a short story by McLean, are as haunting as they are beautiful:
"But when I am alone in the half light of the canyon all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul and memories. And the sounds of the Big Black Foot River and a four count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."
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