Killer of Sheep (1977, Charles Burnett)

I have to go along with the general consensus of complete bewilderment that this even exists in the first place. The fact that it's so artistically confident and uncompromising is yet another astounding thing to behold in this neorealist classic. Charles Burnett is a real talent. Scrounging up money from work weekends to make something so honest and (forever) relevant is a true underdog story. It's disheartening that this was unavailable for, literally, decades due to music copyright. Films this good should not be stuffed away somewhere just because a couple of popular songs are featured in it. Infuriating.


Anyway, let's get to the meat of things. Can I get to the meat of things with this? How do you explain a "feeling"? I'm not so sure I can. Well, that's what this film is. FEELING. The feeling of inadequacy, guilt, love, loneliness, passion. It's all here. It's all here without a hint of falseness or pretension. At times, it felt like I was watching a documentary. I say that without discrediting Burnett's directorial talent because them man is full of it. There are many reasons to love this film but there's one thing that sets it apart from most other films like it. Simply, it just IS. Don't look for over-wrought depictions of ghetto life as hell. This film isn't a guilt trip. It's not a shocking expose on african american life in the 70's. It's an honest and deeply felt look into the lives of people that happen to be living in this part of the world. So, yeah, it is the ghetto but you soon realize that these people end up no sadder or happier than any other class of people. Sure, they're limited, financially, but you couldn't measure the amount of life that imbues them all.


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