If this film doesn’t make you feel something– check your pulse.  You’re probably dead.  It’s a feast for the eyes, ears and soul.  Beautifully sad, haunting, yearning.  It pokes at that hole inside that we all have. The music weaves through the film magically– a part of the story.  Like when Sonny tunes in the radio…

And the cornerstone is a crusty old codger who dies halfway through the flick.  Sam the Lion is The Last Picture Show.

When I was a boy, all I wanted to be was James Dean.  The smoldering, misunderstood, angst-filled rebel badass– always on the outside lookin’ in.  Now that I’m older, and hopefully wiser– all I want to be is Sam the Lion. The strong, salty, cowboy sage.  Mellowed with age– but straight-out speaks his mind. See, he’s got no time for puttin’ up with trashy behavior, and won’t hesitate to call a spade a spade.

Maybe if you’re twenty and don’t want to be James Dean– you don’t have a heart. And maybe if you’re forty and don’t want to be Sam the Lion– you don’t have a brain. Maybe that’s all just a bunch of bullshit.

Find your true skin and learn to be comfortable in it– the rest ‘ll take care of itself.


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