The Indian Runner

Why is it that some people have hellhounds chewing at their heels their whole sorry lives while other folks can keep the beasts at a comfortable distance? The Indian Runner's story of two dissimilar brothers – one a cop, the other a misfit – wanders through that gulf that separates black from white. Sean Penn wrote and directed this work, which is inspired by the Bruce Springsteen song “Highway Patrolman” from the album Nebraska. It's an interesting film, with fine acting performances. Penn acquits himself in this project, his first as a behind-the-camera talent, though The Indian Runner never quite establishes an assured rhythm or fluidity. Still, the movie has moments of great lyricism (a sequence that unites several disparate characters while the Jefferson Airplane's “Comin' Back to Me” plays on the soundtrack is a standout); though, at over two hours running length, The Indian Runner often strains the scales of poetic justice. However, its disarming honesty and near-perfect casting (the only exception is the Italian Golino cast at the Mexican American Maria) makes this fleshed-out elaboration of a few-minute-long song thoroughly watchable. These brothers are polar opposites. Set in 1968, Mortensen plays the brother, Frank, who was always getting into scrapes as an adolescent, joined the Army, and then returns to the States after a tour in Vietnam. But there's a pitched anger in him that refuses to be undone despite the love of a good, innocent woman (Arquette, looking like nothing so much as an eerie double for the young Jean Seberg in Godard's Breathless) and their impending parenthood. Morse is the repsonsible brother who stayed home from the military to tend the family farm, only to have the “mathematicians” take it away. He then joins the police force, protecting and serving the same powers that stripped him of his family plot. Absolutley chilling to watch (and accomplished in just a couple short scenes) are Sandy Dennis and Charles Bronson as the beaten-down parents of these two young men. Dennis is a platitude-quoting, dowdy frump, and Bronson plays brilliantly against type (his quiet performance is one of the most memorable and haunting things about The Indian Runner). Penn shows a real gift for working with actors and the creation of moody and evocative film moments. If he wants, he should be able to sustain an impressive career working both sides of the camera.