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Felix, a Tennessee backwoods hermit, has been living in self-imposed exile with nobody to talk to for lo these 40 years.
"The first 38 are the hardest," he observes, when finally forced to carry on a conversation -- and to confront his own mortality. The local minister has dropped by to inform him of the death of an old acquaintance.
"How'd he die?" asks Felix.
- Starring: Robert Duvall, Bill Murray, Sissy Spacek.
- Rating: PG-13 for some thematic material and brief violent content.
The preacher shrugs and says, "Just got old."
The pithy dialogue of "Get Low" is its main virtue. But dialogue depends on delivery and, in the case at hand, on the very virtuous performances of Robert Duvall and Bill Murray.
It's based on a true story, we're told. Isn't everything? Sort of? We'll give them the benefit of the doubt: Seems that in rural Tennessee, back in the late 1930s, there was a mysterious old loner who became a folk hero by deciding to throw a public funeral for himself -- while still alive.
That would be Felix (Mr. Duvall) -- the crankiest old codger you'd ever want to run into, and away from. He spends his days inside his ancient log cabin, or outside chopping wood and posting increasingly hostile "No Trespassing" signs -- backed up by the shotgun he's never without.
For that matter, Felix's fearful visage is a warning sign in itself. Half of it is shrouded behind a wide, wild beard -- fuller than Rutherford B. Hayes' -- that has a life of its own, moving up and down when he tremulously works his lips.
He has a dark secret, as well. He did something terrible in his youth, something for which the townsfolk still fear and loathe him -- even though nobody now quite remembers what it was. Should he finally face up to it? Should they?
Meanwhile, Frank Quinn (Mr. Murray) of the Quinn Funeral Home has his own problems. Business is dead -- in the worst sense. "People are dying in bunches everywhere but here," Frank laments. "What do you do when people won't die?" He has a fine line of caskets waiting to be dramatically unveiled behind curtains.
Opportunity knocks in the form of Felix, who tells the undertaker precisely how he wants to "get low": Forget the casket, he'll make his own box -- for later. There'll be designated speakers. Posters will go up inviting everybody from the surrounding counties. Raffle tickets will be sold, the grand prize being Felix's property (once he finally gets low in it). He'll be the guest of honor himself, presiding over the truth-telling that his funeral party is designed to elicit.
Director Aaron Schneider won a 2003 Oscar for his William Faulkner-inspired short film, "Two Soldiers." This is his feature debut, and the raw material is good. The real hermit's pre-death wake in 1938 reportedly drew 8,000 "mourners," who had a helluva good music-and-liquor-fueled time.
The problem is with that Big Guilty Secret -- added for this fictionalized occasion. There's nothing wrong with it, in theory. ("You can't buy forgiveness," Felix is told. "It's there, but you have to ask for it.") In practice, the buildup, the outdoor "concert venue" staging and Mr. Duvall's final Big Soliloquy are all fairly excessive. Nor does Sissy Spacek's character -- the widowed sister of Felix's old flame -- make much sense, except to fill the need for some feminine presence.
But, hey. We're here for Bobby and Billy, and they don't disappoint. Mr. Duvall, one of the greatest actors of his generation, is never less than riveting here, no matter how mournful. "I always thought you'd go first," he whispers to Gracie, his beloved mule.
Mr. Murray is masterful as the unctuous, slightly seedy but not undignified mortician, with his droll demeanor and ever-present pocket flask. His sad-sack face with its pits and hollows and shadows seems to gain character dimensions with every film he makes.
Lucas Black does well enough in a pretty thankless role as Frank's earnest young assistant mortician -- everybody else's foil -- and Bill Cobbs has a nice turn as the soulful Rev. Charlie Robinson, who knows but won't tell Felix's dire secret.
David Boyd's cinematography is lyrical and lovely. It's too bad Mr. Schneider failed to resist two last temptations: The story ends with a nice, semi-subtle edge, but he tacks on a gratuitous epilogue and one of those obligatory exit-credit ballads -- completely out of place for the mood, unlike the rest of the film's evocative bluegrass score by Jan Kaczmarek.
Such a fine potential character-driven piece. Such a mistake to try to make it more "hauntingly universal" than it needs to be.
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