Ain't Them Bodies SaintsThere are some choices that people make where no amount of cleverness or deception can circumvent the consequences. This is true for a young couple in love--Bob Muldoon (Casey Affleck) and Ruth Guthrie (Rooney Mara)--who commit a crime that ends in a fatal shootout. Bob is incarcerated, shouldering the blame for the crime so that Ruth and their unborn daughter could live free. Four years later, Bob escapes from prison and sneaks back home to Texas to reunite with his family, ignorant of the complications such a reunion brings.
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Written and directed by David Lowery, Ain't Them Bodies Saints has been compared to Bonnie and Clyde in how it juxtaposes the romance of two young people with their criminal activities. This film is less concerned with the crime which condemns Bob than it is with the bond that exists between him and Ruth, and the aftermath of their illegal adventure. The crime which leads to the showdown in and around an abandoned house--and the motives for it--are left ambiguous. It is implied that Bob and Ruth--along with their ill-fated accomplice, Freddy (Kentucker Audley)--commit armed robbery to support their expected child on their own. After Bob is sent to prison, Ruth receives financial support from Freddy's father, Skerritt (Keith Carradine), who blames Bob for the death of his son, and sees Ruth as an unwitting pawn in his scheme like his dead boy. Ain't Them Bodies Saints deliberately avoids pinning the blame on who is ultimately responsible for the tragically misguided crime, but meditates on how it affects everyone afterwards. Ruth is the first to open fire on the police during the shootout, although Bob later claims Freddy fired first. Ruth's bullet finds purchase in the shoulder of a lawman named Patrick Wheeler (Ben Foster), yet Bob lies again and takes credit for the shot to prevent his beloved and his unborn child from facing the repercussions; he even wipes her prints from the sidearm before they are arrested. Whether it is because of this deception or not, Patrick gives his attention to Ruth over the years--from tipping his hat to her outside of church to gifting his childhood guitar to Ruth's daughter, Sylvie (Kennadie Smith and Jacklynn Smith) for her fourth birthday. Patrick is obviously affectionate for Ruth, and invests himself on an emotional level in her and her daughter's well being. When word gets out that Bob has escaped from prison, he forcefully takes the lead in the investigation, even though it puts him in a difficult position with Ruth. This superficially looks like Patrick is seeking revenge against Bob for shooting him, or that he wants to ensure Bob is put behind bars so his chances with Ruth are not compromised. But Patrick is somewhat shy, and consistently behaves like a total gentleman with Ruth. It is more likely that he takes on this responsibility out of duty--he is best positioned to investigate and take all facets of the investigation into consideration before placing judgment.
When Patrick questions Ruth about whether Bob has tried to make contact with her since his escape, she claims that he has not. Time reveals that this is true--although he wrote soulful letters to her while in prison--but the question lingers for some time as to whether Ruth is lying or not. Regardless of how decent police officers like Patrick may be, there is an palpable divide between citizens and the law in Ain't Them Bodies Saints. Ruth remains something of a pariah (and later a suspect) due to her involvement in the crime four years earlier; people expect her to lie or conceal Bob, even if they're usually too polite to say so. Despite Patrick's kindness, he always feels like an invader in her home; Ruth's politeness is convincing--and may even be genuine--but there is the sense that she would rather that Bob was in her home instead of Patrick. Ruth receives a letter from Bob after he has been on the lamb, indicating that they should meet. Sylvie almost lets their secret rendezvous slip to Patrick, and Ruth tries to play it off as a misunderstanding. It is here that Patrick deliberately fails to probe further, aware that doing so would spell an end to the illusion of companionship they share, and put them once again at odds as cop and criminal. Ruth gladly relinquished her in the spotlight as an outlaw years ago, yet Bob maintains his similarities with Clyde Barrow--at least Warren Beatty's depiction of him from Bonnie and Clyde. Bob has dreams of what he wants for him and his loved ones, which makes a strong case for him being the "mastermind" of the crime that landed him behind bars. Ain't Them Bodies Saints begins with Ruth storming off after an argument--Bob suggests that it isn't the first time--because she believed that when he told Freddy that he wanted to "strike out on his own", that it would be without her. It is implied that the three of them worked for Skerritt at his antique store and that the crime involved the store--whether robbing it or using one of his antique firearms in a different crime is unclear. This adds another dimension as to why the otherwise mild-mannered Skerritt not only threatens Bob about what he'll do if he ever visits Ruth after he shows up late one night, but his subsequent commission of a trio of ne'er-do-well "bounty hunters" to assassinate Bob. (This is a bit of cinematic irony, since Keith Carradine's character in McCabe & Mrs. Miller was done in by a trio like these rough and ready toughs--and was another film starring Warren Beatty.)
Bob's reputation precedes him, and he is aware of his infamy--he even seems to relish it. After hopping train cars and threatening passersby in the road to drive him home to Texas, Bob lies low at a bar owned by an old acquaintance named Sweetie (Nate Parker), who lets him crash upstairs until he can recover his buried loot and plan his next move. When Sweetie asks Bob how he escaped from prison, Bob regales him with an elaborate yarn about how he convinced a guard that he would just "walk out" of his cell one day; Sweetie deflates his ego by telling him he heard that he jumped off of the back of a work truck, and Bob just shrugs. It is puzzling that he would visit Skerritt at all; not only is Bob a fugitive, but he should certainly suspect Skerritt's feelings about how he contributed to the untimely death of his son. Bob tries to maintain a cool facade that comes off as arrogant instead of confident, which only provokes Skerritt . After Bob is ambushed by Skerritt's hired guns, he flags down a passing car to drive him into town, unable to continue on foot due to being wounded in the firefight. He tells the driver--a shaken young man named Will (Rami Malek)--that he can tell his father who he gave a ride to, believing that Will would talk about how he crossed paths with the notorious outlaw, Bob Muldoon. But Bob is no killer--even when the three bounty hunters come for him and he is forced to shoot one, he tries to deter him multiple times before to comes to that. Bob's core motivation is his undying devotion to Ruth, which he uses to justify his egress from prison. His desire is to rejoin his family, despite never meeting his daughter, and despite the impracticality of uprooting them from their stable lives. Ruth would like to be reunited with Bob, but deep down she understands the responsibility she has as a mother to her child. She tells Sylvie that her father used to be someone who was brave and "wrestled bears" during their bedtime story. This might be to distance herself from a dark time in her life, but it is also because she wants her child to have a better life than she had, even if it means altering the truth.
Ain't Them Bodies Saints captures the personality of the setting as much as it does for the characters. It is set during the Seventies and primarily in rural Meridian, Texas, where naturalistic scenes give the feeling of being a part of the vast and open countryside. There are moments where Bob and Ruth are bathed in the warm glow of sunlight, and lens flare refracts the illumination surrounding them and all that they are a part of. Even partially overcast moments--like when Bob, Ruth, and Freddy are evading the police--has trickles of light peeking through the clouds, lending a faint lilac coloration to everything. Consider when Skerritt (and later Patrick) come to visit Ruth at her home, and the sounds of crickets are like a roar emanating from the bushes--the clarion call of a warm, summer night. The editing is tight in all the right places in Ain't Them Bodies Saints, but is never so oppressive as to over-season the meat of the film; slower paced deliberations on love and responsibility are what hold the film together. The musical score completes the framework of a setting steeped in authenticity, including banjoes and plaintive stringed instruments letting out wistful tones and a predominance of clapping, with the percussion adding dramatic tension. Ain't Them Bodies Saints shares stylistic elements with Terrence Malick's Badlands; both films focus on the relationship between two criminals more than their crimes, emphasizing the human element over sensationalism. Along with David Lowery's later film, A Ghost Story--also starring Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara--Ain't Them Bodies Saints invites the audience to immerse themselves in a meditation on great human truths through quiet contemplation.
Recommended for: Fans of a dramatic film that values authenticity while exploring deeper aspects of the human soul in the aftermath of a criminal mistake. Ain't Them Bodies Saints has little that would be considered objectionable content--there is some tense violence--but its meaningful exploration of the consequences of bad choices and the sadness that follows makes it a film that favors audiences with the benefit of life experience and those who can empathize with the characters.
When Patrick questions Ruth about whether Bob has tried to make contact with her since his escape, she claims that he has not. Time reveals that this is true--although he wrote soulful letters to her while in prison--but the question lingers for some time as to whether Ruth is lying or not. Regardless of how decent police officers like Patrick may be, there is an palpable divide between citizens and the law in Ain't Them Bodies Saints. Ruth remains something of a pariah (and later a suspect) due to her involvement in the crime four years earlier; people expect her to lie or conceal Bob, even if they're usually too polite to say so. Despite Patrick's kindness, he always feels like an invader in her home; Ruth's politeness is convincing--and may even be genuine--but there is the sense that she would rather that Bob was in her home instead of Patrick. Ruth receives a letter from Bob after he has been on the lamb, indicating that they should meet. Sylvie almost lets their secret rendezvous slip to Patrick, and Ruth tries to play it off as a misunderstanding. It is here that Patrick deliberately fails to probe further, aware that doing so would spell an end to the illusion of companionship they share, and put them once again at odds as cop and criminal. Ruth gladly relinquished her in the spotlight as an outlaw years ago, yet Bob maintains his similarities with Clyde Barrow--at least Warren Beatty's depiction of him from Bonnie and Clyde. Bob has dreams of what he wants for him and his loved ones, which makes a strong case for him being the "mastermind" of the crime that landed him behind bars. Ain't Them Bodies Saints begins with Ruth storming off after an argument--Bob suggests that it isn't the first time--because she believed that when he told Freddy that he wanted to "strike out on his own", that it would be without her. It is implied that the three of them worked for Skerritt at his antique store and that the crime involved the store--whether robbing it or using one of his antique firearms in a different crime is unclear. This adds another dimension as to why the otherwise mild-mannered Skerritt not only threatens Bob about what he'll do if he ever visits Ruth after he shows up late one night, but his subsequent commission of a trio of ne'er-do-well "bounty hunters" to assassinate Bob. (This is a bit of cinematic irony, since Keith Carradine's character in McCabe & Mrs. Miller was done in by a trio like these rough and ready toughs--and was another film starring Warren Beatty.)
Bob's reputation precedes him, and he is aware of his infamy--he even seems to relish it. After hopping train cars and threatening passersby in the road to drive him home to Texas, Bob lies low at a bar owned by an old acquaintance named Sweetie (Nate Parker), who lets him crash upstairs until he can recover his buried loot and plan his next move. When Sweetie asks Bob how he escaped from prison, Bob regales him with an elaborate yarn about how he convinced a guard that he would just "walk out" of his cell one day; Sweetie deflates his ego by telling him he heard that he jumped off of the back of a work truck, and Bob just shrugs. It is puzzling that he would visit Skerritt at all; not only is Bob a fugitive, but he should certainly suspect Skerritt's feelings about how he contributed to the untimely death of his son. Bob tries to maintain a cool facade that comes off as arrogant instead of confident, which only provokes Skerritt . After Bob is ambushed by Skerritt's hired guns, he flags down a passing car to drive him into town, unable to continue on foot due to being wounded in the firefight. He tells the driver--a shaken young man named Will (Rami Malek)--that he can tell his father who he gave a ride to, believing that Will would talk about how he crossed paths with the notorious outlaw, Bob Muldoon. But Bob is no killer--even when the three bounty hunters come for him and he is forced to shoot one, he tries to deter him multiple times before to comes to that. Bob's core motivation is his undying devotion to Ruth, which he uses to justify his egress from prison. His desire is to rejoin his family, despite never meeting his daughter, and despite the impracticality of uprooting them from their stable lives. Ruth would like to be reunited with Bob, but deep down she understands the responsibility she has as a mother to her child. She tells Sylvie that her father used to be someone who was brave and "wrestled bears" during their bedtime story. This might be to distance herself from a dark time in her life, but it is also because she wants her child to have a better life than she had, even if it means altering the truth.
Ain't Them Bodies Saints captures the personality of the setting as much as it does for the characters. It is set during the Seventies and primarily in rural Meridian, Texas, where naturalistic scenes give the feeling of being a part of the vast and open countryside. There are moments where Bob and Ruth are bathed in the warm glow of sunlight, and lens flare refracts the illumination surrounding them and all that they are a part of. Even partially overcast moments--like when Bob, Ruth, and Freddy are evading the police--has trickles of light peeking through the clouds, lending a faint lilac coloration to everything. Consider when Skerritt (and later Patrick) come to visit Ruth at her home, and the sounds of crickets are like a roar emanating from the bushes--the clarion call of a warm, summer night. The editing is tight in all the right places in Ain't Them Bodies Saints, but is never so oppressive as to over-season the meat of the film; slower paced deliberations on love and responsibility are what hold the film together. The musical score completes the framework of a setting steeped in authenticity, including banjoes and plaintive stringed instruments letting out wistful tones and a predominance of clapping, with the percussion adding dramatic tension. Ain't Them Bodies Saints shares stylistic elements with Terrence Malick's Badlands; both films focus on the relationship between two criminals more than their crimes, emphasizing the human element over sensationalism. Along with David Lowery's later film, A Ghost Story--also starring Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara--Ain't Them Bodies Saints invites the audience to immerse themselves in a meditation on great human truths through quiet contemplation.
Recommended for: Fans of a dramatic film that values authenticity while exploring deeper aspects of the human soul in the aftermath of a criminal mistake. Ain't Them Bodies Saints has little that would be considered objectionable content--there is some tense violence--but its meaningful exploration of the consequences of bad choices and the sadness that follows makes it a film that favors audiences with the benefit of life experience and those who can empathize with the characters.