“Rust” review: Alec Baldwin Western in difficulty is haunted, guilt of guilt

Ideally, we like to watch films in a state of voluntary ignorance concerning their manufacture, even if the whole machinery of the sale and the promotion of a film seems to challenge this. But taking advantage of the Western “rust” is a different question. This is the film on which the director of promising photography HALYNA HUTCHINS was accidentally killed by a live round in a propeller gun intended to hold whites, unloaded during a rehearsal by its star, Alec Baldwin. The writer-director Josh Souza was also injured by the ball.

This terrible and avoidable incident is a context that no film should have to bear, even if the thematic question of “rust” – the consequences of violence, the hard road of expiation and, yes, the pistols loaded in bad hands – makes the release of this cursed production, three and a half after its own terms.

Anyone who could have assumed that the “rust” was an operating film flying of the night should know that its bones are really that of an indie in a bad mood with a heart and a conscience. Death and tragedy are through lines intended to haunt a spectator. Justice is sought, but is also described as inadequate and barely the last word. The weapons are abundant but for the most part, their dismissal and their shot have an appropriate weight. In fact, Clint Eastwood's masterpiece “Unforgiven” Feels like a tonal palette to “rust”, itself far from a shot of Glib and flashy shoots.

Before Baldwin even appeared as an graying outlaw with a mission of mercy, the “rust” is set up – strangely, it must be said – as a lamentable story on an involuntary shooting death. When you try to scare a wolf, the orphan of the Wyoming Lucas farm (Patrick Scott McDermott) mistakenly kills a local breeder with the precious Henry rifle of his family, a weapon that we can say that he was reluctant to use. He was arrested, thrown in prison, then sentenced to the gallows.

Bloody Escape is in the form of the murder of the thief Harland Rust (Baldwin), the grandfather Lucas never knew he had done so. Their destination is Mexico, but they have pursuers in the form of a group led by a stable American marshal and morosearly philosophical played by a solid Josh Hopkins and, separately, a frightening library premium hunter (Travis Fimmel, a Tad Overgydated).

The border characters with a colorful language come and go in thrusts of the hanger of the salons and the dialogue by the fireside. “Rust” talks about a good game on brutality and despair that are easily called when living is difficult. But the central relationship between the Baldwin veteran and the innocent marked of McDermott never completely generates a significant intergenerational intimacy, and the prosecution that surrounds them is winding. In its well -used track as a hunter and hunted, damned and condemned, the “rust” has trouble justifying its two -hour race time. (If only the narration economy of Anthony Mann or Budd Boetticher was other gender inspirations.)

“A man makes his choices,” said at one point at one point his choices, “said his grandchild of Baldwin. It should be mentioned that” Rust “, a Souza director, continued to finish dying at the request of the Hutchins family, is a sustainable will of his obvious talent. (Bianca Cline has finished cinematography when the production has resumed shooting, and the film is dedicated to the film Hutchins.)

There is an elegant gravity to the natural elements that share the frame with the characters in the film, manifesting itself in the silhouettes against a large cloudy sky, delicate snow, light wells in dark interiors and crisp air filled with smoke and dust. A testimony of short -cut lives, “Rust” is beautifully filmed and all the saddest for that.