Ain’t Them Bodies Saints

At the risk of sounding a bit melodramatic, it must be said that Ain’t Them Bodies Saints is not a movie; it’s a feeling. Director David Lowery took the rugged, Americana feel of a great western, the overwhelming sentimentality of a tragic romance, the thrill of a crime drama, and the sound and tempo of some kind of epic Southern odyssey, and he created a new feeling. That feeling is conveyed in the very title, Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, and it overwhelms Lowery’s fourth feature project in all of the right ways.
The words “This was in Texas,” appear on the screen at the beginning of Ain’t Them Bodies Saints, and the “This” that we see is Ruth Guthrie (Rooney Mara) storming away from Bob Muldoon (Casey Affleck) in the middle of a clearing. “This” is the familiar image of a lover’s quarrel, but what is unfamiliar is the simple and sublimely intimate manner in which the relationship between the two leads is presented. Visually, Lowery’s latest has already been compared to a Terrence Malick film, which is a testament to the absolute beauty of the piece. But “This was in [1970s] Texas,” and there’s a unique layer of sweat and grime that lingers on the two lovers and on the story itself.
When Bob takes the fall for a crime that Ruth commits, the narrative becomes concerned with the actual space between the couple. That space (and the space of Ain’t Them Bodies Saints) is filled with the passage of prison time, the arrival of a baby girl, love letters, and a growing, palpable longing. Bob becomes desperate to close the gap, and escapes, making the long journey back to Ruth and their daughter, and back to his troubled past in Texas.