![]() We watch Stanton’s skeletal Lucky trod through his days: Yoga in the a.m., in white tank top and underpants, then some game shows and the crossword puzzle. Lucky bookends Paris, Texas in its sense of its hero’s restlessness, but here he’s at last rooted, his search for meaning planted in routine. His response to a dude at the bar telling him about the game show Deal or No Deal: “So, a guy picks a case and I’ve gotta wait a fuckin’ hour to see what’s in it?” A woman who rescues pets insists that he should consider adopting a critter, giving it “a forever home,” and you may laugh in anticipation of his barfly philosopher’s response: “ Nothing’s permanent.” Stanton’s Lucky, an old salt who director John Carroll Lynch (yes, the beloved character actor) and screenwriters Logan Sparks and Drago Sumonja conceived of as essentially Stanton himself, tumbleweeds about a small desert town, interested mostly in the essentials. ![]() Still trudging through the blasted desertscape of the mind 33 years after Paris, Texas, Harry Dean Stanton hoofs along beneath the opening titles of Lucky, his richly aimless swan song, past cacti and scrub brush, the sparseness of the landscape suggesting something of the lead’s drift of mind. As Lucky’s title character, Harry Dean Stanton plays an old salt who plods about a small desert town, with his search for meaning planted in routine.
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