Now, this is what God watches right here.

It probably wasn't everywhere, but it felt like it was. 

Radio commercials, T-shirts, the occasional belt buckle, highway signs and a Hell of a lot of bumper stickers all combined forces to provide a constant reminder of how I better keep myself in line. But I didn't really understand the warning. Like, how do you start something with that many people? Or were they just talking about the giant guy at the fair? I wasn't gonna f--k with that dude, believe me. I was six years old, I didn't want any trouble. Dang, y'all. I just wanted to go to 7-Eleven with my brother and play Shinobi. Again. Maybe get a pack of Garbage Pail Kids and a Coke.

But now? Looking back? Oh, I totally get it.

Don't Mess With Texas.

And also don't mess with just about anybody in David Mackenzie's latest, Hell or High Water. Written by Taylor Sheriden (the same dude that penned Sicario [review]), this flick is equal parts heist-film, new-school western and revenge drama. Anchored by three dazzling performances, this is quietly one of the better films I've seen in quite some time. Well, at least one that didn't have people dancing across the stars, anyway...

Set in the decidedly unromantic and thoroughly dusty towns found deep in the heart of Texas, Hell or High Water jumps right in as brothers Tanner and Toby Howard are robbing a local bank. It's not quite smash-and-grab, but it's close, as this amateur duo is really only interested in the loose cash in the drawers, eschewing the safe altogether. The robbery isn't much of a success, but between you and me, these two are just getting started. 

Further down the road in another part of West Texas is Marcus Hamilton, a soon-to-be retired Texas Ranger. The Feds aren't terribly interested in two local jerks knocking off a couple of small-town banks, so Hamilton and his partner Alberto head out on what looks like their last ride together. Regardless of what side of the law any of these men find themselves on, safe to say everybody involved is getting too old for this shit.

It's been a hard day's night for Captain Kirk, lemme tell ya...

The less you know the better, obviously, but I'm not spoiling shit by telling you this sonuvabitch is storytelling at its finest. Every character that pops up in this film has a purpose, and whether they're on screen for a minute or an hour, every single one of them fulfills it. They're aren't really any dreams left in these dried-up Texas towns, but they're sure are plans. Survival plans, in fact. And even if they aren't exactly legal, I'm damn sure they're all honorable. Plus, it's easy to cheer for the bad guys, when they're so f--king good.

Not good in the least, are the Yays and Boos. These two are just like Tanner and Toby. Well outside of the fact that they're not handsome, charming or brave. Okay, fine. At least they're related.

My brother and I would also contemplate our lives while
gazing out into a vast field of bluebonnets and cowpies. Yep.
Then we'd go to the roller-rink by the mall.

Yaaaaaaaaaaay!

• Oh, they might be gun-toting sociopaths, sure, but damn that inviting Texas drawl gets me every time.
• Yes, even the old man at the bank cashing in his coin collection will put a bullet in your back.
• If you don't love what Ben Foster does playing Tanner, log off of your device, and smash it into your face. This guy f--king owns as the lovingly unpredictable older brother.
• Sign me up for some more Jenny Ann, yessir.
• Because you asked, little brother.
• Even though it constantly veered in and out of hilarious and soul-crushing, I couldn't get enough of the back and forth between Alberto and Marcus (Gil Birmingham and Jeff Bridges, respectively). I'm still torn on how Alberto felt about all that 'friendly' banter.
• Best Scene of 2016? I present to you, That f--king dude in the green Mustang. I actually covered my mouth (and almost looked away). Holy shit!
• Only assholes drink Mr. Pibb. (I won't ruin the best response in the history of time)
• One of my favorite scenes has Tanner and Toby chasing each other around like a couple of little kids. Turns out, you're never too old to try to tackle your brother for no f--king reason. Or, I suppose, to rob a bank and bury a car with him, either.
• Let me just say, this movie takes a major f--king turn. I guess life in prison wasn't in the cards, was it?
• And finally, that f--king ending was so incredibly satisfying, wasn't it? The tension is suffocating, but somehow, everyone remains totally polite.  And while the battle feels like it's over, it seems like the war has just only begun.

For like an hour, Hell, maybe even ten minutes even,
I'd love to be (half) as cool as Jeff Bridges.

Boooooooooo!

• My own brother has ruined my lunch a couple of times, too. But his only crime was eating too fast (and scraping the fork on his teeth with every bite, for f--k's sake), not, you know, robbing another bank.
• The biggest tip I ever received was $50. And I don't care if that nice family strangled a dolphin, you ain't takin' my money as evidence.
• Dude! Comanche Guy at the casino was waaaay fired up! 
• Usually when I see a fine woman in a movie, it's a Yay. Not this time. I think I actually said out loud, Runnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!
• Man, Diner Lady was f--king hardcore. Whoever ordered the trout, must have had balls of steel (so, yeah, fine, it might have been Ed Harris).
• I wasn't really a fan of the soundtrack all that much. Hmm.
• As a wise man once said, or sang, all throughout my freshmen year of college in fact, Mo money. Mo problems. (stick to the little banks, dammit!)
• So, I didn't do anything wrong, right? So, why the f--k am I sweating through this damn checkpoint?
• Near the end, this was me: Oh shit. This is escalating quickly. He's picking off- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (my wife, in the kitchen at the time, came in concerned...Sorry, hon).
• And finally, for some reason, and I don't think I'll ever understand it, Ben Foster is not a f--king megastar. 

When I was probably six years old, back when we lived in Irving, Texas, I remember my brothers calling me to our screen door, insisting I take a look outside. The sun was just about to set, but there right across the street from our house, was a small, white goat. We were jumping around like assholes, as the goat casually ate the grass in our neighbors front lawn.

The next day, that neighbor, a real good ol' Texas boy named Rick stopped by our house. Somebody asked him, immediately, if he had seen the goat in his yard last night. And without hesitating, and I'll never forget this as long as I live, Rick said in his broken Texan accent,

Seen him? Hell. I ate him.


Yep. Of all the states to f--k with, Don't Mess With Texas, kids. 





(or Rick)