It’s exciting to see Shyamalan on such confident footing once more, all these years later.
Now that I know why Billy Joe McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge, I almost wish I didn't. Bobbie Gentry's famous song, on which "Ode to Billy Joe" is based, found much of its haunting effect in its refusal to reveal why Billy Joe killed himself. His death was seen as sad, and long ago, and unnecessary, and the singer recalled it as a key event in an unhappy time. Gentry didn't need to explain because she evoked.
The film explains. It had to, I suppose, because a movie based on a song like "Ode to Billy Joe" has to come up with something or be accused of copping out. What's good about the film, however, is that it doesn't just exploit the materials of the Gentry song. It goes to some lengths to give us a touching, convincing portrait of its people - and in the cases of Billy Joe (played by Robby Benson) and his girl friend Bobbie Lee (Glynnis O'Connor) it mostly succeeds. We believe in these complicated, sensitive adolescents, with their dialog ranging from Southern courtliness to cliches from True Romances. The story takes place in the Mississippi Delta country of where Bobbie Lee is most earnestly in love with the attractive, gangly Billy Joe. Her father, alas, doesn't think she's old enough to entertain gentlemen visitors, even though she argues that she's "15, and going on 34 - a B cup." She likes Billy Joe for a lot of reasons, one of them being his great show of self-confidence. "If you come calling," she tells him, "my Daddy'll blow off both of your ears with one shot." "I shall not need my ears," he replies, "for I shall be doing all of the talking." He isn't really that self-confident at all, of course, his bravado masks the doubts and terrors that fire a part of all but the luckiest adolescents. And Bobbie Lee isn't much more sure of herself than he is. "When a girl feels the sap rising," her mother warns her, "she'd best count to 10." And if that doesn't work? "To 100, or 1,000." Billie Joe asks her mother how long she counted over her father. "Oh, up to about 822," she says. "By twos . . .
This dialog may not sound like much in print, but in the movie, it works. This is not another film filled with Southern stereotypes, and I don't recall a single "y'all." The people talk with a regional richness of detail that must have been common in many parts of the country before television started ironing us out. And the dialog is most attractive when it's coming from Miss O'Connor, a young (20) actress I've seen twice in the last few weeks (she was the young girl in love with Jan-Michael Vincent in "Baby Blue Marine"). She's a real discovery, with a freshness, an openness, that's really engaging. Her declarations of love and understanding ring true.
The best scenes in the movie involve the early courtship of the two young lovers - meeting after church, walking down country roads at dusk, kissing. There's also a lovely scene in which Miss O'Connor finds herself complaining that the family still uses an outhouse - because she can't find the courage to talk to her father about what's really on her mind. These scenes give us an unaffected portrait of young people (the screenplay is by Herman Raucher, whose "Summer of '42" was along similar lines).
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