David Lynch's The Straight Story Is A Nice Comfort Film

The world was stunned by the recent passing of David Lynch, and many fans took to social media to share their favorite memories and projects of the renowned filmmaker. But there's one movie I didn't see anyone mention, and ironically, I had happened to watch it literally two days before we learned of the tragic news. The Straight Story (1999) is a nice little flick based on the true story of a man who rode his lawnmower to see his brother across state lines. While it does take a bit for this film to kick into gear, it tells a wonderful story that only gets better and better through to the end.

Disney's The Straight Story

I stumbled upon this film when I was looking for a movie with a nice comforting vibe and a small town feel, and boy did it deliver. Right off the bat, the film creates some naturalistic quirky vibes, an extremely refreshing contrast to modern cinema's trend of manufacturing quirkiness. After the main characters are introduced, however, the vibe does deviate a bit and doesn't feel very immersive for quite a while, but once we get to Alvin preparing for his trip north, it gets interesting again.

What really drew me back in was the scene where he's in a shop buying tools and one of the townsfolk questions him, so he tells him he's being nosy. There's a whole ordeal with Alvin trying to buy a grabbing tool from the salesperson, like this is exactly the amusing small town quirky vibe I signed up for. Then the scene of Alvin on the lawnmower, backing up to reveal this giant structure, is just so funny. It's amazing how such simple moments can be crafted so memorably.

Once Alvin gets started on his trip, it's amusing to see how slowly he's going and all the people who spot him. But then they throw us a total curveball — he almost immediately has to come back home and get a new mower. I really didn't expect that at all, and I feel like in any other film, this sort of thing would've felt like a manufactured moment thrown in to give the character a setback, but here it just feels so natural. With his signature John Deere secured, he sets out again.

From here on out, we get this really interesting dynamic with super relaxing montages of Alvin travelling, and then BAM something crazy happens. He gets caught in this insane thunderstorm and has to ride it out in a small structure. Then, just as he's back on the road with some nice scenery — whoosh! Here comes a cyclist out of nowhere. And then another, and another, and another, until there are so many of them that we (and Alvin) just have to stop in amusement.

When he catches up to the cyclists' camp, they all welcome and applaud him, which is so nice to see. This is actually the second of his random interactions with people on this trip, after he met that young pregnant girl who was running away from her family. And while I wasn't too crazy about that earlier scene, both moments give Alvin the chance to connect with people he otherwise would never know and also tell some tales about his life that we might otherwise not hear. These encounters with strangers essentially form the backbone of the movie.

Of course, the next incident of note, and perhaps the comedic highlight of the film, is the lady hitting the deer. Alvin's mowing on down the road when suddenly he sees and hears a crash. At first, it feels pretty serious, and we don't know what exactly happened. He catches up to the car and finds this lady who is just completely upset, but at least she seems to be okay. She's devastated about hitting the deer, which makes sense, but then another curveball — she hits deer on this road all the time! Like this isn't new for her and she's racked up quite a body account.

She desperately asks, "Where do they come from?!" and you can really feel that genuine mix of emotions. "He's dead...and I love deer!" It's such a random but funny moment, and then it's topped off by Alan cooking and eating the deer while surrounded by these deer statue things. I knew he'd eat it, but the visual is just amusing, and it's the epitome of "when life gives you lemons." Once again, this film manages to create such unique and memorable scenes out of simple ideas. Given that this is based on a true story with a limited scope, they of course needed to come up with quite a bit of plot in the middle to make things more interesting, and man did they nail it.

By this point in the film, I realized I should just prepare for something unexpected to follow every peaceful traveling montage. The most dramatic of these moments is when the lawnmower speeds uncontrollably down a hill. The film sets up for it by introducing us to the townsfolk before Alvin gets there, and then the chaos ensues. The way it was shot and acted, plus the reactions of the people watching from the side, and the careful editing choices, created this real sense of tension and suspense. Even though I know he would be okay, the danger was just so visceral, and that's a sign of great storytelling.

The people who witness this incident offer to help him out, which leads to another surprising revelation — he's been on the road for FIVE WEEKS. That's crazy, I thought he was gonna say five days. I understand how slow the lawnmower goes, even bikes are faster, but I swear my jaw actually dropped because we never would've known how long this was taking him. The fact that he hasn't even been able to contact his daughter until now is insane. It just shows how much things have changed since this film was made in the 90s, because even within the next ten years, cell phones would become commonplace. By now we certainly take for granted the ability to connect with anyone anywhere at anytime, and it really emphasizes Alvin's sacrifice and determination.

This pit stop definitely shakes up the previous rhythm of the film, though it's a welcome change. We don't spend a ton of time with these townsfolk, but even such minor characters feel fully realized. There's a simple moment where Danny is just going on and on about Alvin to his wife, and she finally says, "Just drive him, I know you want to." It really helps build out the world of the story, like it's not just a guy driving his tractor across state lines. Of course, that's a funny concept in and of itself, but there's a careful craft to these additional moments that contributes to the very natural vibe of the world.

These interactions also reveal a lot about Alvin, particularly the wisdom and sensibility that comes with his age. When confronted with the bickering brothers responsible for repairing his mower, he forces them to reduce the cost in a really amusing manner, then gives them some heartfelt advice about being brothers, smoothly transitioning into an emotional depth marked by regrets about his relationship with his own brother.

The loss of this relationship subtly underlies the centerpiece of the film, Alvin's conversation with a man his age that he meets in a local bar. This man is a complete stranger, and yet because they're of a similar age, it feels like Alvin can finally really open up to someone about a shared experience that only they would understand — serving in World War II. The dialogue is very compelling as Alvin laments that all his buddies' faces are still young in his mind, conveying all that he has lost in such a personal manner. It's a continuation from an idea briefly touched on with the bikers, when he said the worst part of being old was remembering when you were young. Now he expresses an additional pain: the more years he has, the more his buddies have lost.

When he reveals he was a sniper, you could kinda sense where the story was headed, especially after he mentioned Kotz, but it still hits hard. There are no fancy flashbacks or anything, just some ambient sounds of the war over Alvin simply telling his story while the camera stays on him. You can picture exactly what's happening and feel the weight of his burden when he finally confesses that to this day no one knows it was him.

There's also a subtle but powerful moment in this conversation that can very much fly under the radar for people who tend to reject such notions or are generally less aware of such issues persisting. Alvin mentions he was drinking because he was seeing the same things here that he was seeing there, referring to his time during the war. This obviously means he was witnessing in America the same racism and discrimination he saw in wartime Germany. The film doesn't come right out and say this, which I appreciate, especially considering how much of today's cinema loves to overexplain everything. Instead, this line allows the audience to make the connection themselves, because the act of doing so is inherently more powerful than simply being told.

The entire story is crafted with this kind of care. Notably, the people he meets on these stops gradually get older and older, from the young pregnant girl to the bikers in their 20s or 30s and the deer-hitting woman, then the middle-aged Danny and crew and the bar stranger, and finally a literal graveyard and priest, as if mimicking the journey of life. But the stories he shares are in backwards order, with the more recent stuff about his wife and kids coming first, followed by his military time, and finally recounting his childhood with his brother to the priest.

What really makes this stand out though is that the film doesn't try at all to shove this metaphor down your throat. You just realize it on your own as we go through the encounters and learn what they reveal about Alvin. Crafting the story with a focus on his trip and a gentle structure to ground it really benefits the overall narrative, and it allows us to simply take in the journey and intuitively feel Alvin's trip down memory lane.

Another casual thread across these encounters is the kindness of strangers. Even back home, there's this natural connection between Alvin and the guy who sells him his mower. It's someone he knows, courtesy of their small town, but it really contributes to this overall vibe of everyone genuinely wanting to help Alvin and see him succeed. Yet given the reality of our world, it does make you wonder for a bit if such kindnesses would be afforded to other demographics — if an inherent assumption of safety around others would even be feasible. While the film doesn't tap into this idea (and doesn't need to), can we still use Alvin's journey as an example for what our world should look like?

After all these steps of the journey, the film builds toward its finale. Only when Alvin finally arrives at Lyle's house did I realize he's been wearing the same clothes for six weeks at this point. The moment when Lyle looks up and sees the mower is funny, but then you notice the tears in his eyes, and suddenly the significance Alvin's entire journey really hits, its quirks and mishaps even more worth the result.

However, the film does end somewhat randomly. I don't mind it ending after Lyle realizes Alvin drove the mower all that way to see him, but then they just look up at the sky because that's what they used to do as kids, and it ends there. Even though I expected they would end it this way, it feels like there should've been a little more between the brothers prior to that final moment.

From a technical standpoint, the film isn't without its flaws. There are several cinematography choices that don't quite suit the story and feel like they're just there to be stylistic. The shot of Dorothy in the foreground while Bud is banging on the door in the background feels off-putting to look at, and there are other shots early on where it feels like the camera moves without clear purpose.

Another notable choice is after the shot of Rose looking at Alvin through the window, where it cuts to a close-up on him, but still through the window. It would have worked better if we still had her shoulder in the foreground to maintain the viewing perspective; otherwise, why are we looking at him through the window at all?

I'm not gonna list every moment, but when watching something, I don't want to be taken out of the film by strange camera shots. Like later on at Danny's, there are a few wide shots with super low audio that we can barely hear, including one where they transition from him agreeing to stay at Danny's to the random wide shot of them working on stuff with the audio way far in the back, and then suddenly back to him at night. It feels really jarring and I can't see a story purpose for these choices. Above all else, cinematography should tell the story, immerse you in the story, serve the story.

But overall, it's small enough to look past, and for the majority of the film, I didn't really notice anything jarring. In fact, there are also some good stand-out moments, like when Rose gets the news about Uncle Lyle and the camera just stays on Alvin, moving closer.

Ultimately what makes this movie work so well is its genuine heart. I'm sure you could analyze the journey with all sorts of metaphors about life and growing old, like the mower giving out so close to the end, but the journey itself is just nice. The film isn't trying super hard to be profound, but it still manages to be thoughtful just by telling a comfortingly human story. In today's age of increasingly manufactured screenwriting, The Straight Story stands as a testament to the power of simple, heartfelt storytelling.