The Straight Story (1999)
A reflection on the David Lynch road movie. (spoilers)
The very name of the late David Lynch tends to conjure up images and tones that seem to exist in an alternate reality, a plane of existence that outwardly possesses many of the recognisable characteristics we deem to be our world, yet is suffused with otherworldly and often unfathomable elements. Eraserhead (1977), Dune (1984), Blue Velvet (1986), Lost Highway (1997) and Mulholland Drive (2001) comprises half of his filmography. All of his films, once viewed, manage to sear themselves directly on to your psyche permanently. Lynch was a visionary in the truest sense of the word. He was an artist who managed to externalise his own inner world and share it with the consuming public - a feat that many strive for but usually come up short.
The Straight Story (1999) is the only one of Lynch’s films that he did not write. It is my favourite. Writing credits go to Mary Sweeney, his long time editor and collaborator, and co-written by John E. Roach. The story is based on fact. An elderly man named Alvin Straight travelled 240 miles on a John Deere riding lawnmower to visit his ailing brother in Blue River Wisconsin, who was recovering from a stroke. Alvin had no driver’s licence due to his poor eyesight and simply decided he would travel the only legal way he could - on his lawnmower. The story garnered lots of public attention while it was happening in the summer of 1994, with Alvin being interviewed by local TV and radio stations when he had to stop sporadically in small towns due to mechanical breakdowns.
The eponymous title perfectly encapsulates how the film contrasts all of Lynch’s other films. This is his most linear and accessible full length feature yet it bears the visual hallmarks of Lynch. A scene where Rose, Alvin’s daughter, sadly watches a young boy walking into the frame on a footpath after his ball rolls into view under a streetlight, is pure Lynch. The opening shot of the town’s empty main street is suddenly populated by a pack of wild dogs who, later on the film, we see a second time as Alvin is embarking on his journey. I can’t help but think Lynch personally requested that these wild dogs be given their film debuts. The starry skies that Alvin and Rose so lovingly talk about possess a sort of skewed cosmic aesthetic, again reminding us we are in the hands of the man who directed Twin Peaks (1992). However, this is a film that required linearity and simplicity of narrative expression. The focus was the man and the journey he embarked upon, on his John Deere lawnmower.
Alvin Straight: Anger, vanity, you mix that together with liquor, you've got two brothers that haven't spoken in ten years. Ah, whatever it was that made me and Lyle so mad... don't matter anymore. I want to make peace, I want to sit with him, look up at the stars... like we used to do, so long ago.
Sissy Spacek plays Rose, Alvin’s daughter, who lives with her father and tries to get him to attend doctor’s appointments to extend his life. She has a severe stutter and a familial trauma of her own that has wounded her profoundly. The love between the two is poignant, subtle and real. She does not once try and stop her father from embarking on his journey as she already knows the potential response.
Richard Farnsworth’s performance is full of pathos and wisdom. He is a man that does not say much but when he does speak, you listen. The actor was a stuntman and acted in small parts in Westerns back in the fifties and sixties. He was 79 when he played the character and every facial gesture and utterance bore the weight of his own life experience. You can see it in his jet blue eyes when he looks longingly to the horizon, the machinery of his memories and thought processes tangibly visible - a life lived. This was the role he was destined to play and it defined the final years of his life; he was nominated for an Oscar. Sadly, Farnsworth took his own life less than a year after the film wrapped - he had terminal cancer and was partially paralysed and decided he had had enough. This was in-keeping with the character of Alvin Straight, a man who may well have done the same thing given the circumstances.
The sweeping vistas of Iowa and Wisconsin in the American mid west are breath-taking. The aerial shots are accompanied by a score by long time Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti. The use of violin and strings casts the American landscape in an even more mythical light. The combine harvesters at work, the wheat-fields, the eternally long roads, are all imbued with an added veneer of beauty when accompanied by the prominent melody entitled Rose’s theme. The bittersweet poignancy of this leit motif perfectly reflects Alvin’s yearning for re-connection with his estranged brother. It is a beautifully languid journey depicted by Lynch and a fitting elegy to a particular American way of life.
The film is about human connection. Alvin’s brother’s stroke reminds him that time is ticking. The inexorable wave of time washes over and through all of us, whether we like it or not. The kindness of strangers is very evident along Alvin’s journey. We are reminded of the inherent goodness of people. When one travels alone on a journey such as this, people open up, their guards drop and their imaginations are sparked. Your pain is shared, unburdened and alleviated by those you meet. Alvin travelled with an open heart and mind; this gave others permission to do the same. The world would be a better place if we were all a little bit more Alvin.
