Hell or High Water

A slot in the exper­i­men­tal­ly inclined Un Cer­tain Regard sec­tion of the Cannes Film Fes­ti­val seemed like a strange fit for this new film by David Macken­zie (Starred Up), with its star­ry cast and seem­ing­ly com­mer­cial inten­tions. It’s a sto­ry that simul­ta­ne­ous­ly rev­els in crowd-pleas­ing ges­tures, but also sub­verts gener­ic rules and absolute­ly requires strong leads to car­ry out the deed.

Chris Pine and Ben Fos­ter are up to the chal­lenge, play­ing broth­ers Toby and Tan­ner who set out to rob a string of small banks in their native West Texas. Although Toby is the brains of the oper­a­tion and Tan­ner the mus­cle, Macken­zie by and large rejects heist movie con­ven­tions, specif­i­cal­ly the notion of the hero­ic and wit­ty anti-hero who con­trols and ter­ri­fies his hap­less victims.

He instead presents a mod­ern, real­is­tic Texas in which pover­ty per­me­ates every cor­ner and touch­es all of its inhab­i­tants. Rather than fear and awe, the broth­ers’ vic­tims have only con­tempt and pity for these des­per­ate men hop­ing for more. The broth­ers can­not be authen­tic cow­boys pre­cise­ly because there is no mon­ey to steal. The mod­est wood­en town hous­es seen in clas­sic west­erns, and the opti­mism they implied, have here been replaced by the pre­car­i­ous­ness of run­down low­er-class homes, decay­ing and neglected.

Macken­zie relieves this demor­al­is­ing mes­sage with a sar­cas­tic sense of humour from both the civil­ians deal­ing with the rob­bers and the lacon­ic author­i­ties on their trail. Jeff Bridges as Ranger Hamil­ton com­ments with typ­i­cal wit on the bleak eco­nom­ic sit­u­a­tion and the obso­les­cence of every tra­di­tion that has giv­en Texas its iden­ti­ty, includ­ing him­self. His favourite jokes are those aimed at his mixed race part­ner Alber­to, who is half Native Amer­i­can, half Mex­i­can, and a ranger on top of that. Alber­to is a con­stant reminder of the harm done by old convictions.

Not stop­ping there, Macken­zie relies on a mul­ti­tude of side char­ac­ters, often mem­bers of the old­er gen­er­a­tion, but also strug­gling young peo­ple try­ing to make ends meet. He evokes a per­vad­ing sense of nos­tal­gia laced with res­ig­na­tion. Cap­i­tal­ism and its vices make the old fights between cow­boy and out­law seem like a walk in the park. The film is at its most gra­cious and touch­ing when Hamil­ton is pen­sive, sit­ting alone, silent­ly con­tem­plat­ing his approach­ing retire­ment and flood­ing the screen with mem­o­ries of a time that was no fair­er, but that he under­stood better.

While Tan­ner pro­vides the action with his bru­tal enjoy­ment of vio­lent crime for the sake of it, Toby’s motives are more obscure and his plan more intri­cate. The pro­gres­sive rev­e­la­tion of this fun­da­men­tal­ly good man’s inten­tions makes for slow-burn, grip­ping sus­pense, and a twist as sub­tle as it is mad­den­ing. In his self­less­ness and his love for his fam­i­ly, Toby remains a real cow­boy, yet one fight­ing against new demons and doing so by play­ing their game.

Hamil­ton and Toby – indeed all the char­ac­ters – are unit­ed against the com­mon ene­my of cap­i­tal­ism, but their own for­mer iden­ti­ties have fad­ed away in the face of new divid­ing lines. The bank has pow­er over every­one, but the rich­est cit­i­zens are the ones with free­dom. The cow­boy must hide behind mon­ey rather than out on the dusty plains.