A gut wrenching essay on the vanity of greatness

Rating: 9/10 (6 November 2018)

What struck me the most in this movie was the crude realization of how little control one has over their own fame. Along the story you learn to love and respect Jesse James, through the elegance and clouded mystery of the character, to the point of forgetting his true nature. You can't help but feel, like the rest of the crowd, resentment at Robert Ford (masterfully played by Affleck), just a man who, albeit not for the right motives, went through a conflicting journey to bring down a dangerous criminal. Maybe Jesse James never had the intention of turning into such a beloved legend and Ford surely wasn't expecting the label of coward. Celebrity culture is a dangerous playground and your will can only do so much. After some point, you're in the hands of a crowd who projects their own insecurities and deepest desires on others, loving the free and brave Jesse James and loathing Robert Ford, who killed an unarmed man. That's why I think that, above anything else, this move is a critique on the vanity and transience of the celebrity culture. I mean, that ending is nothing short of perfect.
The not so good aspects: it could generally be a bit shortened and the transition of Ford from admiration to resentment felt quite rushed, but that may require a second view because of the subtlety of Affleck's portrayal.
Of course this could not go without mentioning the tremendous work of Roger Deakins. The train scene alone is only one of the finest exemples of the use of lighting I have seen and the dreamlike blurred edges and chromatic aberration in some scenes are just sublime.
Props to Nick Cave and Warren Ellis as well for the haunting but not overwhelming soundtrack.
'You know what I expected? Applause'