The poster proudly representing "Places in the Heart" on IMDb gives the wrong idea about the film; yes this is a story of a young widow trying to ensure a humble living to her two children in a depression-stricken rural Texas, facing financial difficulties, farming hardship and tornadoes. But the picture is just misleadingly grand and might make you think this is a melodrama on the epic and emotional scale of "The Color Purple".
Unfortunately for Michael Benton's recollection of childhood memories in Waxahachie, Texas, his darling project came close to being a movie as endearing as Spielberg's classic, it had the right material, the right premise, it even had Danny Glover. But somewhere Benton decided to include some subplots and storylines that didn't just affect the narrative but also prevented us from enjoying a far more interesting gallery of characters. At the end, what this film has in common with "The Color Purple" is the setting, Glover and an inclusion of AFI's 100 Most Inspiring Movies (guess which one is ranked higher?).
Now, I want to be provocative and ask: who needs the deadpan and killjoy face of a moody Amy Madigan when you have a young and seemingly frail Southern wife played by Sally Field, helped by Glover as a Depression drifter but experienced handyman who knows all the ropes about building and cotton picking and John Malkovich as a blind man lodged in exchange of money, much to the financial assurance of the local banker, his brother in law? With such a great trinity of characters, who needed a lousy infidelity subplot between Madigan and Ed Harris who plays the husband of Edna's sister Margaret, played by Lindsay Crouse. I wish I could overlook these points but they do affect the storyline, they do derail it from what could have been a wonderful immersion in a unique universe by the Depression's standards.
It is a shame because the story is wonderfully set-up, Edna's first scenes show her as the kind of devoted wives who couldn't dream of a better husband, a responsible fellow and good father who happens to be the town's sherif. I actually liked the cynical bit of that big hunk of a man being killed in a freak accident, shot by a drunken nerdy looking black kid. The film begins with a terrible sense of waste as the two end up dead (needless to say that a young black killing an officer in rural Texas wouldn't make it till court) and so Edna is left alone with the support of her sister and friends, and moderate pressure from the banker who advises her to sell the farm. And I actually liked that the banker wasn't the ruthless greedy type but actually tried to help Edna, out of respect for her husband or maybe because he was a genuinely caring man.
I like that the film does contradict many Depression tropes, giving it a realistic texture. Mozes isn't some guardian angel sent by the Devil, he's as capable of stealing silver spoons as Valjean for candelabras. The blind man wonderfully played by Malkovich (he'd be Oscar nominated for the role) isn't the nicest man but it doesn't take him long to warm up and bonds with Edna's daughter. Once these characters are established and Edna suggests they can plant acres and pick cotton as the prices were plummeting, the story picks up and we're taken to an extraordinary journey. But as if Benton didn't trust his own material, he swings us back and forth between the Spaulding farm and the anticlimactic romance between Harris and Madigan and thus preventing us from great interactions between Malkovich, Glover and Fields.
Don't get me wrong, the three do have great moments and seeing their relationships evolves is one of the film's great delight, but what would I have done for ten minutes of conversations between these three instead of anything between Harris and Madigan. The only actual pay-off of that subplot is the sister's reaction (Crouse was also Oscar-nominated) but was that worth it? Another option would have been to prepare us for an eventual intrusion of the Klan in order to make their involvement during the climax more plausible. I agree with what Ebert said that their appearance in the third act seems like they dropped out of nowhere and nothing prepared us for that. In fact, the tornado scene was so spectacular and impressively done it could have made a terrific climax on its own.
So, "Places in the Heart" is a powerful drama venturing in these unfamiliar territories where the strangest bonds can be made, set in a time of uncertainty in America where solidarity became a moral and spiritual creed driven or in spite of the social troubles that poisoned some souls. Yes the film delivers a powerful message tainted with religious spirituality and ending with a powerful finale that could have been one of the greatest of cinema's history: a collective communion between the dead, the living, the bad and the good in a sacred place where racism and hate has no bearing whatsoever. But I will quote Ebert again who said that this was a too grand finale for a film who lowered its expectations by diluting the story, and instead of being inspiring, it feels a little more manipulative or let's say, sentimental.
As a matter of fact, Ebert gave a dead-on review invoking exactly what was good and wrong in the film, and Siskel agreed by saying if the film didn't have bad scenes, it quite had pointless ones. It's a shame because the film had the material of a masterpiece but right now, it's most remembered for having earned an Oscar to Fields and that (in)famous "You like me... you really like me"... Yes, we like you, Mrs. Fields, I just wished Benton liked you enough to give you more screen-time.
Unfortunately for Michael Benton's recollection of childhood memories in Waxahachie, Texas, his darling project came close to being a movie as endearing as Spielberg's classic, it had the right material, the right premise, it even had Danny Glover. But somewhere Benton decided to include some subplots and storylines that didn't just affect the narrative but also prevented us from enjoying a far more interesting gallery of characters. At the end, what this film has in common with "The Color Purple" is the setting, Glover and an inclusion of AFI's 100 Most Inspiring Movies (guess which one is ranked higher?).
Now, I want to be provocative and ask: who needs the deadpan and killjoy face of a moody Amy Madigan when you have a young and seemingly frail Southern wife played by Sally Field, helped by Glover as a Depression drifter but experienced handyman who knows all the ropes about building and cotton picking and John Malkovich as a blind man lodged in exchange of money, much to the financial assurance of the local banker, his brother in law? With such a great trinity of characters, who needed a lousy infidelity subplot between Madigan and Ed Harris who plays the husband of Edna's sister Margaret, played by Lindsay Crouse. I wish I could overlook these points but they do affect the storyline, they do derail it from what could have been a wonderful immersion in a unique universe by the Depression's standards.
It is a shame because the story is wonderfully set-up, Edna's first scenes show her as the kind of devoted wives who couldn't dream of a better husband, a responsible fellow and good father who happens to be the town's sherif. I actually liked the cynical bit of that big hunk of a man being killed in a freak accident, shot by a drunken nerdy looking black kid. The film begins with a terrible sense of waste as the two end up dead (needless to say that a young black killing an officer in rural Texas wouldn't make it till court) and so Edna is left alone with the support of her sister and friends, and moderate pressure from the banker who advises her to sell the farm. And I actually liked that the banker wasn't the ruthless greedy type but actually tried to help Edna, out of respect for her husband or maybe because he was a genuinely caring man.
I like that the film does contradict many Depression tropes, giving it a realistic texture. Mozes isn't some guardian angel sent by the Devil, he's as capable of stealing silver spoons as Valjean for candelabras. The blind man wonderfully played by Malkovich (he'd be Oscar nominated for the role) isn't the nicest man but it doesn't take him long to warm up and bonds with Edna's daughter. Once these characters are established and Edna suggests they can plant acres and pick cotton as the prices were plummeting, the story picks up and we're taken to an extraordinary journey. But as if Benton didn't trust his own material, he swings us back and forth between the Spaulding farm and the anticlimactic romance between Harris and Madigan and thus preventing us from great interactions between Malkovich, Glover and Fields.
Don't get me wrong, the three do have great moments and seeing their relationships evolves is one of the film's great delight, but what would I have done for ten minutes of conversations between these three instead of anything between Harris and Madigan. The only actual pay-off of that subplot is the sister's reaction (Crouse was also Oscar-nominated) but was that worth it? Another option would have been to prepare us for an eventual intrusion of the Klan in order to make their involvement during the climax more plausible. I agree with what Ebert said that their appearance in the third act seems like they dropped out of nowhere and nothing prepared us for that. In fact, the tornado scene was so spectacular and impressively done it could have made a terrific climax on its own.
So, "Places in the Heart" is a powerful drama venturing in these unfamiliar territories where the strangest bonds can be made, set in a time of uncertainty in America where solidarity became a moral and spiritual creed driven or in spite of the social troubles that poisoned some souls. Yes the film delivers a powerful message tainted with religious spirituality and ending with a powerful finale that could have been one of the greatest of cinema's history: a collective communion between the dead, the living, the bad and the good in a sacred place where racism and hate has no bearing whatsoever. But I will quote Ebert again who said that this was a too grand finale for a film who lowered its expectations by diluting the story, and instead of being inspiring, it feels a little more manipulative or let's say, sentimental.
As a matter of fact, Ebert gave a dead-on review invoking exactly what was good and wrong in the film, and Siskel agreed by saying if the film didn't have bad scenes, it quite had pointless ones. It's a shame because the film had the material of a masterpiece but right now, it's most remembered for having earned an Oscar to Fields and that (in)famous "You like me... you really like me"... Yes, we like you, Mrs. Fields, I just wished Benton liked you enough to give you more screen-time.