An oddity among oddities, a G-rated Disney film, in nice bright color, directed by David Lynch (Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart, etc.). But notwithstanding its Midwestern corn and its heartland-on-the-sleeve, it turns out to have its fair share of Lynchian crotchets as well. This cuts both ways. The movie -- the true story of a crusty old codger called Alvin Straight who travels 370 miles from Iowa into Wisconsin on a motorized lawnmower to visit his estranged brother before it's too late -- has more laughs, or anyway more sniggers, than you might anticipate, but it also has an element of condescension that throws a cloud over the homespun sentiment. The obese, snacking, front-yard sunbather ("What's the number for 9-1-1?") and the plaid-shirted bar patron with six inches of turned-up cuff on his blue jeans are fair representatives, or victims, of the double-edged sword. The puddly-eyed Richard Farnsworth, the titular Straight-shooter, couldn't possibly be the revelation he was in Comes a Horseman, but it is good, not great, to see so plain-spoken an actor in so commodious a role. Sissy Spacek, on the other hand, well-entrenched as one of the finest actresses of the age, can still manage to be a revelation. As the hero's somewhat dim daughter, she comes up with an oddish, freakish, barking manner of speech as distinctive in its own way as Billy Bob Thornton's growling manner in Sling Blade, a one-of-a-kind. And it's a serious loss, in humor as much as in humanity, when the hero and the movie leave her behind just past the half-hour mark. Slowness now becomes a way of life (the tortoise-paced tracking shot over the yellow line in the middle of the road is a sort of low-gear parody of the opening sequence in Lynch's Lost Highway), and boredom becomes the daily diet. A not disagreeable light-headedness follows. (1999) — Duncan Shepherd
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