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A Simple Plan
viewed Friday, September 17, 1999 on video
A Simple Plan has a plot that starts off,
well, very simple, teetering on the brink of cliche.
Three men in a small town find hidden treasure while
hunting, and scheme to keep it among themselves, with
greed and paranoia lurking not too far in the narrative
distance. On video, the first half-hour goes by
like a made for TV movie -- the town seems boxed in, the
characters propped up by our recognizing their type.
Director Sam Raimi seems to have wanted to tone down his
over-the-top zoom and boom technique as seen in Darkman
and Army of Darkness. But that graphic
novel look is his stamp, and without it he's just
another journeyman hammering out another Hallmark Hall
of Fame mantlepiece. The only visible hints of
Raimi are the uncommonly large crows loitering around
the loot, and the scene where a woman is sent flying
across a kitchen from a shotgun blast.
The dim and dour story is happily enlivened by an
intriguing rendering of fraternal devotion and a
tremendous performance by Billy Bob Thornton. With
two or three amazing scenes, he all but steals the show.
He seems to have the simpleton market cornered, though
like his slopeheaded hero in Sling Blade, the
idiot in this movie has a lot of heart fueling his dim
mind. His mannerisms -- the contorted face, the
occasional stutter -- are aren't subtle, but he plays it
offhand enough to make it believable, not to mention
entertaining. The scene when he suddenly plays off
his brother against his best friend is phenomenal, even
better than his final despearate plea for death.
Bill Paxton also has his best scenes with Thornton,
since that's when, with merely a guilt-ridden glance at
at Billy Bob, all the grief of being the privileged
brother in an underprivileged family descends on him.
In those moments, his deadpan artifice of calm comes
under fire, and he can feel his own hypocrisy.
I can't ignore Bridget Fonda as Paxton's wife, whose
ripe and ruddy maternal look seems to spring more from
the plan she's helped to hatch for her husband than from
her imminent motherhood. It's like her mind has
come to life after years of shelving books at the town
library. Fonda is so inextricably immersed in the
immobile pregnancy of her part that when she finally
lets out her deep-seeded hick housewife grievances, it's
unnerving to hear her voice summon her Aunt Jane's
hysteria.
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