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A prospector sells his wife and daughter to another gold miner for the rights to a gold mine. Twenty years later, the prospector is a wealthy man who owns much of the old west town named Kingdom Come. But changes are brewing and his past is coming back to haunt him. A surveyor and his crew scout the town as a location for a new railroad line and a young woman suddenly appears in the town and is evidently the man's daughter. Written by
John Sacksteder <firstname.lastname@example.org>
On the cat house stage, after Sarah Polley's recitation, a man recites a poem. It's Shelley's "Ozymandia" from 1818. I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. See more »
Around the 1:43 mark when the prospector is torching the town we see a ski lift running in the background with people on it. Again around the 1:54 mark in the last few minutes of the film we see the ski lift again in the background for a good 10-15 seconds. See more »
[first lines - overlapping conversations]
Alright ladies, let's go. I'm Vauneen, I take care of you from this point on. Ya get down, and we're going to get you to work real soon...
Alright gents, let's hand-up your firearms.
It's a town's rule.
These firearms are the property of the Central Pacific Railroad.
That don't matter, Mr. Dillon says no firearms in town, so no firearms in town, come on...
You can't take these weapons...
I said, leave that...
Well then you can't come into Mr. ...
[...] See more »
Turns out, after some will have lost patience, to be fairly good
Michael Winterbottom's decision to construct the whole movie out of extreme telephoto shots - some of which have a pane of focus so shallow you start to wonder if it's really there at all - is more dogma than style. It places a heavy strain on the eyes which some viewers will mistake for tension in the story. (Michael Nyman's music, consisting of something like the "endless melody" which Wagner threatened to write but thankfully never did, likewise creates a tension which some viewers will mistakenly think belongs to the story. Actually, for once Nyman's music isn't that bad.) You have to admire the skill, and the art direction, like the choice of location, is beyond praise, but there's NO REASON AT ALL to make as peer at every single scene through a telescope, except perhaps that it's a shortcut (far too easy a shortcut) to stylistic unity.
It's surprising, towards the end, after all the cold, barely focused and rather absent storytelling, to find that the film packs a punch, after all. It came as a shock when I realised I'd actually been watching something GOOD. We really had been transported to another place (the journey was just a little slow); not having read Hardy's book, I found myself wondering how he could possibly have placed the story in an English setting.
I was also surprised to find myself touched. Some sad things happen at the end. I won't say what they are, and a synopsis of the plot probably wouldn't reveal what's sad about them, anyway.
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