WISE BLOOD

John Huston's later output has been chronicled by Criterion before (Under the Volcano got a lovely release in 2007), and what continues to earnestly shock me about these movies from the director's autumn period is just how grisly they are. They're not particularly violent or sexually provocative, by any means, but there's an undercurrent of dirty, skeptical rage to Albert Finney's drunken escapades in Under the Volcano and to Brad Dourif's masterful encapsulation of an evangelist with dubious aims in Wise Blood.

Based on a short story by the acclaimed writer Flannery O'Connor, Wise Blood is a desperately eerie tale of wandering WWII veteran Hazel Motes (Dourif), who decides to become a small-town preacher. But that ain't all - Motes figures that pretending he's blind will appeal to the hellfire and salvation evangelical crowd, and they eat it up...almost too much. Turns out that Motes gets the idea from these heavy-rhetoric folks that blinding himself for real is the only way he can achieve the redemption for which he's searching.

In typical Huston style, the performances here are standout - Dourif has a creepy-crawly charm as the film's protagonist, and Ned Beatty and Harry Dean Stanton turn in exceptional supporting roles, as does Huston himself. Yet, like Under the Volcano, Wise Blood is more curious than good, a film with noble intention but slippery execution. Cliched as it may be to say, it's a movie far more easy to appreciate than to like.