Legends of the Fall

Brad Pitt movies to me are categorized strictly by hair type. There’s the weird-hair moments in the nineties, then the Meet Joe Black strangely-bull-cut-and-blonde-but-much-more-standard section. You have your spikey-turned-crazy-shaved Fight Club, etc etc. I always get Legends of the Fall confused with River Runs Through It, specifically for its long hair and nature theme. One of them I’ve seen before, and one of them I haven’t. Turned out the one I needed to see was River.

Oh well. Legends. For the wide populace who gets incredibly excited about Pitt’s outrageous hair decisions, this move was definitely about the hair. Oh, the hair. The Native American dude kept talking about a grizzly inside Pitt’s character, but when he was running around with those wild horses, I could only see pony. Yep, Brad Pitt is definitely a pony: fit, sexy, yet strangely prancy, he trots around the scenery shaking his mane and neighing to his hearts content. Every girl wants to ride him, every boy wants to join his herd and prance alongside him. He’s one of those damn ponies that kick down the fence every once in a while and makes arrogant remarks about how he should run free. And then we pat him down and love him because he’s Wild and Free. He shakes his mane again and we love him because he is soft and sexy.

Other thing: three brothers. When I saw those three brothers together, I was like, “oh you will surely die” to the youngest one, “you will die in some heart wrenching way if a woman loves you enough” to Pitt-pony, “and you my friend, are not cool enough to die, but will be broken and alone” to the oldest stick up his ass fella. Surprise. It all came out the same. that fatal moment when the oldest one just had to say “you broke all the rules, and yet they loved you best” to Brad Pitt, I couldn’t help adding mentally. “Yes they do. Because I’m a pony!” Then he shakes his long mane, and neighs loudly.

The psychology: the youngest one starts out as a big soft fragile one, “the other brothers would do anything to protect” Then he meets this big soft fragile woman to marry, and he ups the anty. Suddenly the brothers are going, “AAAAAAHHH, he is not only big soft fragile one, but a protector of a yet softer being, and possible future propigator of our family line” which quickly translates into “must not let him die at any cost.” Pitt-pony especially is down with this idea, in a kind of “if I forget completely about myself I will be able to sacrifice myself to something soft and wonderful.” So, yay for Pitt-pony for finding a purpose. Problem: soft boy dies. Purpose lost. And suddenly, Pitt-pony has inherited the soft and fragile being left over, who is, by the way, looking more than usually fragile in her wounded-widow-wear. Pitt-pony has now become fragile himself, as protector of that which is fragile, and to make matters worse, she keeps talking of children. Pitt-pony, who only wanted to run free and eat green pastures, is now fragile being, taking care of fragiler being who may or may not being care completely fragile completely soft being in her soft, fragile belly. Gaaah! Will it never stop? Will that fragile baby have a baby? Will he be stuck forever in increasing fragiledom? Pitt-pony is driven increasingly insane from new, unwanted responsibility, and eventually has to blow off steam through ten years of world-travel and whore-sleeping.

After a while Pitt-pony calms down enough to bed his rice-paddy back burner woman. Rice paddy, you say? That humble, yet beautiful little village of farm workers samurais go to recooperate. Samurai walk into that town (or are dragged in, usually to be nursed back to health) and you know this is a safe haven for the samurai, a place where he can reconnect with nature and learn to love the simple things, have some fun, indulge in fantasies of living The Simple Life, think he can stay here forever picking rice in a puddle of water, but you know that he will tire, and eventually move on because he is destined for greater things. Those poor women that live in that rice paddy village, simple, nice, and usually of too little breeding to really matter, are left knowing “he will come back for her.” He won’t. That’s what Isabelle 2 is. Simple. Calming. Too unimportant to be anything but temporary. Pitt-pony is destined for greater things, and Isabelle 2 is killed for it.

Fragile widow turns out to be too fragile to last past Isabelle 2. Also slowly driven insane, much like that woman married to Christian Bale’s character in the Prestige. One must suspect her barenness is part of the problem. Can’t say I blame her much. He did leave for a long ass time. So the question is, was it worth it? A few months of guilt-ridden sex for decades pain? Well, you saw the sex. Everytime they showed some naked part of Brad Pitt I was severely in favor for the decades of pain bit. Sex in a hot spring? Hot damn. That glorious ass when laying on top of a bed of Asian whores. I have to admit that even when facing decades of spurned craziness, I would braid his wild pony hair and ride that Pitt-pony as long as I could. Brad Pitt is my favorite kind of pony.