by Herbert H. Stein
We see a man and woman driving along a quiet country road. She, the older of the two,
is driving and she starts the conversation.
“Hey, Dixon?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something.”
There is a pause, then she continues.
“It was me who burned down the police station.”
“Well, who the hell else would it have been?”
They drive some more and she speaks again.
“Dixon?”
“Yep?”
“You sure about this?”
“About killing this guy?”
He waits a few moments and continues,
“Not really. You?”
“Not really.”
They drive some more and she says, “I guess we can decide along the way.”
He nods, she smiles, they keep driving …
And then the screen goes black and we see the closing credits.
In that moment in which I realized I was no longer living vicariously in the world of the
film, as I came back to my own world, sitting in a now dark movie theater, I had the thought that I had seen a very unusual film, perhaps unique. Continue reading “Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing Missouri” and One Emotional Ride
