Rooster Cogburn and Mattie ride slowly through an avenue of cottonwoods. The olives and browns of the horses and riders mold two dark shapes in a field of bleached grays, the dead brush and grass of winter in the west. It's a carefully calibrated lull in action. A conversation...our sense of the characters deepens...we are between events.
I love Westerns. I love the look of them. I could watch the dusty golds and browns and whites for a long, long time. It's good to see a new one - and a good one.
This NYT article about True Grit author Charles Portis makes me want to read all of his books