I made a list of 200 movies I've never seen before, and probably should've, and so now I'm working my way through that list, alphabetically, and seeing what comes of it.
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
1969
At one point or another, I asked my Facebook friends if anyone was interested in discussing any of the movies on the Never Seen It list with me, when the time comes. Frank took me up on the offer with a few movies, and we've finally arrived at the first one that he requested. Here's a conversation we had via email over the course of a week or so.
Joe: It's been a while since I've left Facebook and lost the original thread where people asked me to talk about particular movies whenever I got around to watching them. I had written down that you wanted to talk about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but I didn't write down if there was a particular reason why you wanted to talk about it. So while I was watching, I held that question in that back of my mind. Is there anything particular you want to talk about when it comes to this film?
If I had to guess, I'd say that it has something to do with the genre of westerns, and how Butch Cassidy doesn't seem to be exactly what one would expect when they are coming to watch a "classic western" movie. Or maybe that's just me, but I dunno, I kind of assumed that this was gonna be a John Wayne-type stoic drama. But it wasn't that at all. Following in the similar wake of Bonnie and Clyde from two years earlier, it felt fresher and brighter and funnier than any western had any right to be. So maybe the fact that Butch Cassidy seems to have stretched what this genre could do was a reason that you like it, because I know it was for me.
Like I said, that could just be me, though. I don't know anything about "Westerns" in general, and I don't know if I'm relieved or annoyed that the first two movies I've watched from this list that fit the genre (not counting Blazing Saddles) don't seem to be "classic" westerns so much as commenting on and improving upon that old classic western formula. Then again, what the fuck would I know about a formula if I still haven't seen a "classic western"?
I dunno, you tell me. Am I off base here? And does this have anything to do with your appreciation of this film? Am I missing anything? Should I have waited to think about any of this until I get to Dirty Harry? (Is that even a western? I don't know anything!)
I'm also pretty happy to just talk about the great moments in this film, as there are many.
Frank: I think you hit the nail on the head. The first time I saw this movie, it was unlike anything I'd seen before. I think you get it in your head that "classic" movies are going to have a certain rhythm to them, and then when this didn't, when it zagged, I was delighted. It is really playful with your expectations too (the tension of the shootout in the beginning, the fear that he is going to rape her that turns into relief that they are in love). I also think it's just a chance for two Hollywood stars to flex, which sometimes can be obnoxious, but sometimes it can really work (I don't know how you feel about the Oceans movies but this is definitely what they are going for with Clooney/Pitt, also I know for a fact that this is what Tarantino was going for with Pitt/DiCaprio in OuaT in Hollywood, how successful he is is debatable) The movie is really about how compelling Paul Newman is, and taking a bet that Redford is going to be a superstar, which pays off.
I just think the movie makes a lot of cool choices, with the colorization, the music, the picture montage that gets them to Bolivia. It's taking that new exciting energy and injecting it into a Western. A thing to think about is that this movie is dialogue driven (same as Bonnie and Clyde) Newman is always talking, and the western is usually very not dialogue driven. That's how John Wayne becomes a movie star.
Katherine Ross—it's crazy to me that she wasn't a bigger star, she is so beautiful and fun. She's third billed in The Graduate as well.
Dirty Harry is an interesting one because I don't think its politics of "cop with a gun makes his own rules to clean up the streets" is aging well as a genre. It was called "fascist fantasy" at the time (I think Pauline Kael? don't quote me on that) and seems even more so now.
If you haven't seen The Sting yet, and if it's not on your list put it on. It's the same director and Newman and Redford together again and it has the same fun energy
I just viscerally remember finishing this movie going 'I've never really seen anything like that before" which is always cool. Maybe that's what I wanted to talk about. Movies that blaze their own trail.
Joe: Thanks for confirming that this was "different" in many ways than a typical Western. I hate the fact that I'm working backwards, but eventually I will watch some "classic westerns" and see firsthand. I wonder, though, if the fact that this means that classic Westerns lack the "new exciting energy" that made us both enjoy Butch Cassidy and the Sunday Kid so much. Maybe I'll be disappointed.
I thought it was really funny reading about some studio exec originally rejecting the script specifically because the heroes flee to Bolivia (quote: "I don't give a shit, all I know is John Wayne don't run away.") To me, that whole back half of the movie was delightful, especially the whole bit where they are trying to learn Spanish. Totally worth fleeing to! There were just so many good bits like that ("Woodcock, is that you?!" and the subsequent train car explosion), that I can't imagine watching a western that doesn't have levity in it at this point.
I meant to ask last time—do you think one's appreciation of the movie is enhanced if he or she is already familiar with the real-life story of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? I thought it was interesting that the movie almost started in media res, and chronicled the fall of these legends, while not really touching at all on their rise. I mean, I know there's a supposedly mediocre prequel that tells that tale, but I personally don't really feel the need to watch it or know about it. Maybe that was because this movie did well enough putting us right in the middle of the action. Maybe it's because the superhero genre has really beaten the horse of "origin stories" to death this century (and what are Butch and Sundance if not superheroes?).
P.S. I've seen The Sting, and I thought about it when I discovered the dumbest piece of trivia on IMDB's trivia page: "Paul Newman and Robert Redford drank a lot of beer in Mexico." A stupid and irrelevant piece of "trivia," but definitely makes sense that these two would want to pair up again in another movie. (P.P.S. gun to my head, I think I'd still choose The Sting over Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but it's a lot closer than I would've assumed it'd be before watching the latter.)
Frank: I think I give The Sting a slight edge too. It's just too fun and tight.
I don't think it's enhanced by knowing anything about the real Butch and Sundance. The details I'm sure are there (the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang, etc.), but I think this is such a loose translation that it might hurt it if you are a history snob and want them to be more accurate.
I absolutely prefer starting in the middle. I'm exhausted by origin stories.
An interesting thing about the best Westerns is that John Wayne made like 100 cowboy movies and most of them aren't talked about because they are paint-by-number shitty movies. The classics tend to rise above because they are deconstructing the genre or stars own legend in some way (i.e. Clint Eastwood reflecting on his violent persona in Unforgiven, John Wayne and John Ford reflecting on their part in racism towards Native Americans with The Searchers). So even with the classics, it's a hard genre to wrap around. I do think that one of the undertalked about definitions of a Western is the tying of the American Dream in wealth and get rich quick schemes (little towns and farms risen up by people who left East with the promise of their own fortunes and destinies, fighting against the evils of corporate ranchers, bandits, and unfortunately indigenous peoples already there) In a lot of ways this pursuit of wealth as happiness by going west and fighting those trying to take what's yours makes There Will Be Blood the quintessential modern western. I dunno, I don't have a point, I just thought of that as I was typing. It's funny because I think BC&SK understands this and has it in its bones better than Blazing Saddles, for instance, which is a photocopy of westerns without really getting what makes them work/not work masked by Looney Tunes gags.
I GUESS my point is that a lot of quote unquote classics only get that way by specifically commentating, responding, or building on things that came before; that could be obvious I dunno.
Joe: If it's obvious, then it still needed to be said to me, because it's a point that I miss most of the time. Like the idea/worry of "Well is this just a response to what came before it instead of it's own idea?" is taking up so much space in my head right now that I forget that EVERYTHING is just a response to what came before it. Nothing is completely new. Every piece of art is either created to improve upon a known formula, or to go in the opposite direction and do something different than the known formula. So if BC&SK really did succeed because it took what came before and improved it significantly, then I should be celebrating, not equivocating. (In other words, I try to look at the big picture after watching a film, but sometimes I zoom out a little too far.)
I am glad you brought up the idea of the American Dream being tied to wealth in the context of Westerns, because I thought that was a pretty interesting little note in the middle of this movie that I hoped they would expand upon a little more. When the duo finds out that E.H. Harriman is pouring money into their capture, Butch goes: "If he'd just pay me what he's spending to make me stop robbing him, I'd stop robbing him!" Which is 1) a very funny line, but 2) a pretty poignant line too. And I thought it spoke to how the game is not played on level playing grounds. Butch and Sundance and the gang are doing this for the MONEY, first and foremost, but some rich asshole like Harriman couldn't care less about money, because he has so much already. The game isn't even, and so Butch and Sundance (and every other low- or middle-class shmuck in early 20th Century Western U.S.) are doomed to lose. CAPITALISM, BABY.
So I guess first, am I barking up the wrong tree or is this something that others have thought about as well? And second, does this have anything to do with the reason we consider these criminals to be HEROES, no question, or does that have more to do with their style and humor and larger-than-life fictional personas in general?
Frank: I think you are absolutely barking up the right tree, and I don't know if this has been brought up before. The Robin Hood aspect is pretty well defined, but the idea of the rigged game is fascinating to me. Doomed to lose is what keeps us invested in their story, something relatable there.
I do think we'd have a harder time seeing them as heroes if the movie betrayed our trust in some way and had them kill someone innocent or something. Not that we wouldn't follow their story still (the gangster genre à la Scarface or Godfather with antiheroic protagonists, or the noir detective with unlikable brutality), I just think it would sour the charm. They're criminals, but the victims are okay or minimally harmed or "bad guys." That's a major trope of the heist movie right? "These guys are insured for their paintings it's a victimless crime!" to keep the rogues likable.
I think the movie may also be commenting on the dying out of this lifestyle right? Not being bank robbers specifically, but the romance of the West is having control over your own life, and that is a dream that they chase to Bolivia. Bolivia becomes the new West. Like this used to be a way to even the score, but now the bicycle is coming along and there are new fashions to be had in the montage to Bolivia, and the spirit of free commerce is being squashed by a military industrial complex as the world heads toward corporate capitalism. And they go out in a blaze of glory
Joe: Oh yeah, definitely reminds me of Deadwood or something, when you put it that way. It could be the West, it could be anything—we crave autonomy, and the powers that be are usually there to crush it.
I promised myself I wouldn't play moral arbiter for film characters anymore, but I can't help it after you mentioned the "likeable rogues." It's definitely true in this case, but the idea still interests me enough that I wanna keep talking about it. Like, okay, at what point does it cross the line between likeable criminals and unforgivable criminals? I guess intention matters—Butch and Sundance were in it for the money, and spent it on booze and prostitutes for the most part, which isn't great. But how it's carried out matters too—it's not like they are robbing poor people, they're robbing rich people, which makes it okay (in my eyes, anyway).
I was thinking about this while also thinking about the false equivalency that people have been making the past week or so between this summer's BLM protests and this month's domestic terrorism attack on the Capitol building. Similarities: large groups of people marching and acting out for a cause they truly believe in. But the intentions are completely different (protesting the fact that police murder black men at a much higher rate than white men, versus protesting an election based on complete fabrications and lies), as are the ways they were carried out (93% of BLM marches were completely peaceful, whereas the trumpers committed felonies and ransacked federal property and allegedly threatened elected officials' lives and MURDERED A COP).
And then you think about Butch Cassidy, who admits toward the end of his run that he's never actually shot anybody. Intention—not take lives unnecessarily—and ways of carrying it out—talk a big talk, so much so that you rarely have to take action—allow us to like this man, even though, yeah, he's technically committing a lot of crimes and fucking a lot of people over.
I feel like I'm just talking out of my ass now, because I'm a lightweight and just had two vodka/seltzers. So let me ask you this instead: What are we to make of the bike-riding scene? Fun little break from the action? A bit too out-of-place in a western flick? Completely ruined by the fact that "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" kinda sucks butt? Even though it went to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 based on this scene? And even though BJ Thomas clearly doesn't agree with that negative assessment?
Frank: I like the bicycle scene for a particular reason, I think we think of the old west as being this far-off civil war time, and don't think about how close in time it is to us. Bikes just feel like a modern thing, to me, at least. BJ Thomas is wrong, that song stinks, and ironically, weirdly dates the movie. The bike can stay, the song has to go.
I think the secret sauce is also that they are handsome likable men. If they were ugly and gruff, even with good intentions, we wouldn't like them as much. we are simple people swayed by good PR.
The BLM/Capital protests false equivalency lies not in the actions of the protestors (which is its own conversation, clear in the points you already made) but in the response. The overmilitarization for the one versus the letting people through for the other.
Populist heroes of the past have a long history of being outlaws, "sticking it to the man." As populism has been taken hostage by the conservative media market, it's interesting to think how most people today would be rooting for E.H. Harriman against those thugs trying to take "our" freedoms to become an E.H. Harriman. The great con trick of our lifetimes was the middle class blue collar person believing that the big guy had their best intentions at heart, that somehow a djt, despite all evidence to the contrary his entire life, was deeply invested in the working man's future.
Joe: Without judgment hurled toward any party, I just find it so interesting that he can talk about two cons, basically—trump's conning of the American people, and Butch/Sundance's conning of financial institutions(?)—and consider one as historically heinous and one as somewhat lovable. I mean, an eighth grader could explain the discrepancy—magnitude of the crime, and who it affects (punching up instead of punching down)—but I still find it interesting to mull over. Especially as I type this a few hours from the ceremony in which a very unpopular ruling power is replaced by a more popular ruling power, one who will hopefully not commit the same type of atrocities as his predecessor, but still most likely will not directly address what ills our society as a whole, and will use terminology such as "healing" and "unity" while still leaving the vast majority of today's impoverished class to either rot or to act out in Butch/Sundance-type ways.
UGH I meant to wrap this up with this email but I couldn't help myself it seems. Please tell me to can it with the intro-level politics and then tell me about a "film-student-type aspect" of this film that you enjoyed that we haven't talked about. I dunno, like something that a neophyte like myself wouldn't notice but you did, something that made you say "this is a well-made film." And then I'll let you go until we talk about Casablanca.
If I had to guess, I'd say that it has something to do with the genre of westerns, and how Butch Cassidy doesn't seem to be exactly what one would expect when they are coming to watch a "classic western" movie. Or maybe that's just me, but I dunno, I kind of assumed that this was gonna be a John Wayne-type stoic drama. But it wasn't that at all. Following in the similar wake of Bonnie and Clyde from two years earlier, it felt fresher and brighter and funnier than any western had any right to be. So maybe the fact that Butch Cassidy seems to have stretched what this genre could do was a reason that you like it, because I know it was for me.
Like I said, that could just be me, though. I don't know anything about "Westerns" in general, and I don't know if I'm relieved or annoyed that the first two movies I've watched from this list that fit the genre (not counting Blazing Saddles) don't seem to be "classic" westerns so much as commenting on and improving upon that old classic western formula. Then again, what the fuck would I know about a formula if I still haven't seen a "classic western"?
I dunno, you tell me. Am I off base here? And does this have anything to do with your appreciation of this film? Am I missing anything? Should I have waited to think about any of this until I get to Dirty Harry? (Is that even a western? I don't know anything!)
I'm also pretty happy to just talk about the great moments in this film, as there are many.
Frank: I think you hit the nail on the head. The first time I saw this movie, it was unlike anything I'd seen before. I think you get it in your head that "classic" movies are going to have a certain rhythm to them, and then when this didn't, when it zagged, I was delighted. It is really playful with your expectations too (the tension of the shootout in the beginning, the fear that he is going to rape her that turns into relief that they are in love). I also think it's just a chance for two Hollywood stars to flex, which sometimes can be obnoxious, but sometimes it can really work (I don't know how you feel about the Oceans movies but this is definitely what they are going for with Clooney/Pitt, also I know for a fact that this is what Tarantino was going for with Pitt/DiCaprio in OuaT in Hollywood, how successful he is is debatable) The movie is really about how compelling Paul Newman is, and taking a bet that Redford is going to be a superstar, which pays off.
I just think the movie makes a lot of cool choices, with the colorization, the music, the picture montage that gets them to Bolivia. It's taking that new exciting energy and injecting it into a Western. A thing to think about is that this movie is dialogue driven (same as Bonnie and Clyde) Newman is always talking, and the western is usually very not dialogue driven. That's how John Wayne becomes a movie star.
Katherine Ross—it's crazy to me that she wasn't a bigger star, she is so beautiful and fun. She's third billed in The Graduate as well.
Dirty Harry is an interesting one because I don't think its politics of "cop with a gun makes his own rules to clean up the streets" is aging well as a genre. It was called "fascist fantasy" at the time (I think Pauline Kael? don't quote me on that) and seems even more so now.
If you haven't seen The Sting yet, and if it's not on your list put it on. It's the same director and Newman and Redford together again and it has the same fun energy
I just viscerally remember finishing this movie going 'I've never really seen anything like that before" which is always cool. Maybe that's what I wanted to talk about. Movies that blaze their own trail.
Joe: Thanks for confirming that this was "different" in many ways than a typical Western. I hate the fact that I'm working backwards, but eventually I will watch some "classic westerns" and see firsthand. I wonder, though, if the fact that this means that classic Westerns lack the "new exciting energy" that made us both enjoy Butch Cassidy and the Sunday Kid so much. Maybe I'll be disappointed.
I thought it was really funny reading about some studio exec originally rejecting the script specifically because the heroes flee to Bolivia (quote: "I don't give a shit, all I know is John Wayne don't run away.") To me, that whole back half of the movie was delightful, especially the whole bit where they are trying to learn Spanish. Totally worth fleeing to! There were just so many good bits like that ("Woodcock, is that you?!" and the subsequent train car explosion), that I can't imagine watching a western that doesn't have levity in it at this point.
I meant to ask last time—do you think one's appreciation of the movie is enhanced if he or she is already familiar with the real-life story of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid? I thought it was interesting that the movie almost started in media res, and chronicled the fall of these legends, while not really touching at all on their rise. I mean, I know there's a supposedly mediocre prequel that tells that tale, but I personally don't really feel the need to watch it or know about it. Maybe that was because this movie did well enough putting us right in the middle of the action. Maybe it's because the superhero genre has really beaten the horse of "origin stories" to death this century (and what are Butch and Sundance if not superheroes?).
P.S. I've seen The Sting, and I thought about it when I discovered the dumbest piece of trivia on IMDB's trivia page: "Paul Newman and Robert Redford drank a lot of beer in Mexico." A stupid and irrelevant piece of "trivia," but definitely makes sense that these two would want to pair up again in another movie. (P.P.S. gun to my head, I think I'd still choose The Sting over Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but it's a lot closer than I would've assumed it'd be before watching the latter.)
Frank: I think I give The Sting a slight edge too. It's just too fun and tight.
I don't think it's enhanced by knowing anything about the real Butch and Sundance. The details I'm sure are there (the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang, etc.), but I think this is such a loose translation that it might hurt it if you are a history snob and want them to be more accurate.
I absolutely prefer starting in the middle. I'm exhausted by origin stories.
An interesting thing about the best Westerns is that John Wayne made like 100 cowboy movies and most of them aren't talked about because they are paint-by-number shitty movies. The classics tend to rise above because they are deconstructing the genre or stars own legend in some way (i.e. Clint Eastwood reflecting on his violent persona in Unforgiven, John Wayne and John Ford reflecting on their part in racism towards Native Americans with The Searchers). So even with the classics, it's a hard genre to wrap around. I do think that one of the undertalked about definitions of a Western is the tying of the American Dream in wealth and get rich quick schemes (little towns and farms risen up by people who left East with the promise of their own fortunes and destinies, fighting against the evils of corporate ranchers, bandits, and unfortunately indigenous peoples already there) In a lot of ways this pursuit of wealth as happiness by going west and fighting those trying to take what's yours makes There Will Be Blood the quintessential modern western. I dunno, I don't have a point, I just thought of that as I was typing. It's funny because I think BC&SK understands this and has it in its bones better than Blazing Saddles, for instance, which is a photocopy of westerns without really getting what makes them work/not work masked by Looney Tunes gags.
I GUESS my point is that a lot of quote unquote classics only get that way by specifically commentating, responding, or building on things that came before; that could be obvious I dunno.
Joe: If it's obvious, then it still needed to be said to me, because it's a point that I miss most of the time. Like the idea/worry of "Well is this just a response to what came before it instead of it's own idea?" is taking up so much space in my head right now that I forget that EVERYTHING is just a response to what came before it. Nothing is completely new. Every piece of art is either created to improve upon a known formula, or to go in the opposite direction and do something different than the known formula. So if BC&SK really did succeed because it took what came before and improved it significantly, then I should be celebrating, not equivocating. (In other words, I try to look at the big picture after watching a film, but sometimes I zoom out a little too far.)
I am glad you brought up the idea of the American Dream being tied to wealth in the context of Westerns, because I thought that was a pretty interesting little note in the middle of this movie that I hoped they would expand upon a little more. When the duo finds out that E.H. Harriman is pouring money into their capture, Butch goes: "If he'd just pay me what he's spending to make me stop robbing him, I'd stop robbing him!" Which is 1) a very funny line, but 2) a pretty poignant line too. And I thought it spoke to how the game is not played on level playing grounds. Butch and Sundance and the gang are doing this for the MONEY, first and foremost, but some rich asshole like Harriman couldn't care less about money, because he has so much already. The game isn't even, and so Butch and Sundance (and every other low- or middle-class shmuck in early 20th Century Western U.S.) are doomed to lose. CAPITALISM, BABY.
So I guess first, am I barking up the wrong tree or is this something that others have thought about as well? And second, does this have anything to do with the reason we consider these criminals to be HEROES, no question, or does that have more to do with their style and humor and larger-than-life fictional personas in general?
Frank: I think you are absolutely barking up the right tree, and I don't know if this has been brought up before. The Robin Hood aspect is pretty well defined, but the idea of the rigged game is fascinating to me. Doomed to lose is what keeps us invested in their story, something relatable there.
I do think we'd have a harder time seeing them as heroes if the movie betrayed our trust in some way and had them kill someone innocent or something. Not that we wouldn't follow their story still (the gangster genre à la Scarface or Godfather with antiheroic protagonists, or the noir detective with unlikable brutality), I just think it would sour the charm. They're criminals, but the victims are okay or minimally harmed or "bad guys." That's a major trope of the heist movie right? "These guys are insured for their paintings it's a victimless crime!" to keep the rogues likable.
I think the movie may also be commenting on the dying out of this lifestyle right? Not being bank robbers specifically, but the romance of the West is having control over your own life, and that is a dream that they chase to Bolivia. Bolivia becomes the new West. Like this used to be a way to even the score, but now the bicycle is coming along and there are new fashions to be had in the montage to Bolivia, and the spirit of free commerce is being squashed by a military industrial complex as the world heads toward corporate capitalism. And they go out in a blaze of glory
Joe: Oh yeah, definitely reminds me of Deadwood or something, when you put it that way. It could be the West, it could be anything—we crave autonomy, and the powers that be are usually there to crush it.
I promised myself I wouldn't play moral arbiter for film characters anymore, but I can't help it after you mentioned the "likeable rogues." It's definitely true in this case, but the idea still interests me enough that I wanna keep talking about it. Like, okay, at what point does it cross the line between likeable criminals and unforgivable criminals? I guess intention matters—Butch and Sundance were in it for the money, and spent it on booze and prostitutes for the most part, which isn't great. But how it's carried out matters too—it's not like they are robbing poor people, they're robbing rich people, which makes it okay (in my eyes, anyway).
I was thinking about this while also thinking about the false equivalency that people have been making the past week or so between this summer's BLM protests and this month's domestic terrorism attack on the Capitol building. Similarities: large groups of people marching and acting out for a cause they truly believe in. But the intentions are completely different (protesting the fact that police murder black men at a much higher rate than white men, versus protesting an election based on complete fabrications and lies), as are the ways they were carried out (93% of BLM marches were completely peaceful, whereas the trumpers committed felonies and ransacked federal property and allegedly threatened elected officials' lives and MURDERED A COP).
And then you think about Butch Cassidy, who admits toward the end of his run that he's never actually shot anybody. Intention—not take lives unnecessarily—and ways of carrying it out—talk a big talk, so much so that you rarely have to take action—allow us to like this man, even though, yeah, he's technically committing a lot of crimes and fucking a lot of people over.
I feel like I'm just talking out of my ass now, because I'm a lightweight and just had two vodka/seltzers. So let me ask you this instead: What are we to make of the bike-riding scene? Fun little break from the action? A bit too out-of-place in a western flick? Completely ruined by the fact that "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" kinda sucks butt? Even though it went to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 based on this scene? And even though BJ Thomas clearly doesn't agree with that negative assessment?
Frank: I like the bicycle scene for a particular reason, I think we think of the old west as being this far-off civil war time, and don't think about how close in time it is to us. Bikes just feel like a modern thing, to me, at least. BJ Thomas is wrong, that song stinks, and ironically, weirdly dates the movie. The bike can stay, the song has to go.
I think the secret sauce is also that they are handsome likable men. If they were ugly and gruff, even with good intentions, we wouldn't like them as much. we are simple people swayed by good PR.
The BLM/Capital protests false equivalency lies not in the actions of the protestors (which is its own conversation, clear in the points you already made) but in the response. The overmilitarization for the one versus the letting people through for the other.
Populist heroes of the past have a long history of being outlaws, "sticking it to the man." As populism has been taken hostage by the conservative media market, it's interesting to think how most people today would be rooting for E.H. Harriman against those thugs trying to take "our" freedoms to become an E.H. Harriman. The great con trick of our lifetimes was the middle class blue collar person believing that the big guy had their best intentions at heart, that somehow a djt, despite all evidence to the contrary his entire life, was deeply invested in the working man's future.
Joe: Without judgment hurled toward any party, I just find it so interesting that he can talk about two cons, basically—trump's conning of the American people, and Butch/Sundance's conning of financial institutions(?)—and consider one as historically heinous and one as somewhat lovable. I mean, an eighth grader could explain the discrepancy—magnitude of the crime, and who it affects (punching up instead of punching down)—but I still find it interesting to mull over. Especially as I type this a few hours from the ceremony in which a very unpopular ruling power is replaced by a more popular ruling power, one who will hopefully not commit the same type of atrocities as his predecessor, but still most likely will not directly address what ills our society as a whole, and will use terminology such as "healing" and "unity" while still leaving the vast majority of today's impoverished class to either rot or to act out in Butch/Sundance-type ways.
UGH I meant to wrap this up with this email but I couldn't help myself it seems. Please tell me to can it with the intro-level politics and then tell me about a "film-student-type aspect" of this film that you enjoyed that we haven't talked about. I dunno, like something that a neophyte like myself wouldn't notice but you did, something that made you say "this is a well-made film." And then I'll let you go until we talk about Casablanca.
[Editor's note: I'm okay with ending it here, but if any additional responses come of this, I'll drop 'em here in an edit.]
~~~~~~~~
GRADE: 3.5 puke out of 5
NEXT TIME: Speaking of Nazis, let's watch Cabaret.
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