Movie review: 'Lucky'

Harry Dean Stanton gives the greatest performance of his career in the subtly, magnificent little film, "Lucky." But it's almost impossible to fight back the tears as we watch this brilliant actors in one of his last roles.

In the opening shot, a lone tortoise inches his way through a rocky desert to the sounds of a harmonica playing "Red River Valley." Next we find ourselves watching Lucky (Stanton), a 90-year-old man setting aside his cigarette to exercise, after which he resumes smoking. As he ambles into town on foot, the journey takes him to the local diner for coffee, his crossword and some curmudgeonly quips. Back at home he spends the day watching game shows and at night he hits the bar for Bloody Marys. Lucky is a creature of habit.

But one day a fall forces him to re-examine his lonely existence, and possibly soon, the lack there of. When a waitress from the diner unexpectedly stops by to check up on him, Lucky is caught off guard. After sharing a joint while watching Liberace, he admits a secret to her.

"I'm scared," he says.

"I know," she replies.

Esteemed character actor John Carroll Lynch ("Fargo," "Zodiac") scores a major coup in his directing debut of "Lucky." He definitely "gets" Stanton and lets him roll in this compilation of life tales. But he also has a seemingly natural knack for exquisite camerawork. Each shot is framed with the precision of a pro. And his adoration for Stanton is captured beautifully.

Roger Ebert observed that "no movie featuring Stanton can be altogether bad." This speaks volumes about one of the finest actors in film history. From "Paris, Texas" to "Cool Hand Luke" to "The Last Temptation of Christ," Stanton always stood out among the best, because he was just that. For over 60 years, in more than 100 films, his "weathered face" and "hungry eyes" emitted a rare persona that was uniquely his. "Lucky" feels as though it was written (by scripters Logan Sparks and Drago Sumonja) in purpose just for Stanton.

In the final shot, Stanton looks directly into the camera as that sly smirk he perfected slowly emerges. It's as though he's saying good-bye to all of us before turning his back and walking away. Farewell, Mr. Stanton and thank you for sharing your soul.