“Cry Macho”: Clint Eastwood makes one last lap in minor mode – archyworldys

THE OPINION OF THE “WORLD” – MUST SEE

Without a doubt Cry Macho will it not remain as Clint Eastwood’s masterpiece. Nothing goes without saying in this fortieth feature film from the veteran filmmaker, between a scenario that does not really hold up, a generally anachronistic tone or an often hazardous interpretation. Obvious faults that should not be disputed, except to show a good dose of bad faith. But the film is not played entirely in this very first degree bill, it is true rather ungrateful, which also corresponds to the eagerness with which Eastwood has chained the films for ten years, leaving some in the state of draft (3:17 p.m. for Paris, 2018). Cry Macho is all we want: a wobbly, lame, quirky film. But he also knows, in the background, to be irresistible, and even at times overwhelming.

Taken from a novel by N. Richard Nash, his argument comes back a long way: it takes place in the years 1979 and 1980, a little before the actor-director considered for the first time to shoot it, with Robert Mitchum in the main role. Forty years later, Eastwood, who was too young at the time, now has enough bottle to take over the role of Mike Milo, a former rodeo champion fallen after a bad back injury, in mourning. a woman and a son who died in a car accident. Living alone on his Texan ranch, he is entrusted by his ex-boss with the mission of going to recover on the other side of the Mexican border his 13-year-old son, Rafael known as “Rafo” (Eduardo Minett), under the control. from a despotic mother (Fernanda Urrejola). On the spot, Mike discovers a kid out of ban who pours in the fights of clandestine cocks with his own mascot named “Macho”. Willy-nilly, the old man embarks him with the bird in his van for an eventful return trip, with federal police and henchmen on their trail.

Less than credible, Cry Macho deploys a naïve fable on the transmission and the mirages of filiation, cast in the finery of a modest B series marked by a debonair humor. Surprisingly, this deliberately minor form is the one Eastwood chooses to sign a real film-review, a thousand miles from the great testamentary organs. Cry Macho revisits in its own way, light and picaresque, certain Eastwoodian standards: the old man’s trip to Mexico is reminiscent of The mule (2018), his race with an unforgettable child A perfect world (1993), the animal comedy of schoolboy pranks by Soft, hard and crazy (1978), by James Fargo, the great outdoors swelling with his many contributions to the western genre.

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