text: I don't like Sean Penn's directing very much, and this early work, The Indian Runner, is no exception. The movie has no core, it's colored with a kind of redneck, anti-authoritarian tweeness that in all honesty taints most of Penn's work, his latest work even more so than the earlier. Frank Miller, Robert Rodriguez, Clint Eastwood, Sean Penn, the whole lot seem to produce such fundamentally banal product, ostensibly in some allegiance to honesty, but ending up being, for the most part, glorified pro wrestling matches, and moralistic, almost as if Hallmark cards had developed a line of Hell's Angels greetings, and make me long for the days of Deliverance, which is a fine movie. Viggo Mortensen's acting is much, much more believable here than that ridiculous Eastern Promises thing he did with Cronenberg, and that's about it. The movie is dead meaningless, and seems to be an exercise, a series of techniques, more than a story. Kudos for Charles Bronson, however, who proves he can act. And I wanted more of Sandy Dennis' character. A lousy 3 out of 10 for this The Indian Runner crap.