Alternative titles for John Schlesinger’s Midnight Cowboy:
Kind of Bi-Sexual Cowboy
Naked Cowboy
Perverted Cowboy
New York, I Really Love You
And don’t forget its porn name:
Southern Male Sluts

It’s true: I frequently fear this quest of mine. I mention in almost every blog how inevitably I’m going to view films that, in my perception and honest opinion….blow. They blow hard. And I did not expect Midnight Cowboy to be the first on that list.

Signs that my patience was waning during this viewing:
1) I checked how far I was into the movie about 15 times.
2) I was tempted to check Wikipedia to find out the ending (don’t worry, faithful readers, I did not cheat. Integrity prevailed!)
3) I refused to become desensitized to the sight of Jon Voight’s ass

So lets spin some positive, shall we? Dustin. Hoffman. He did it again. Uber mad love for that Graduate. He walked the walk (poor guy and his limp), and he talked the talk. Nailed it. Jon Voight was very fine, as well. That about sums up the positives.

My problem was the film’s lack of character progression throughout the two hours. There were some very cool flashbacks that were very stylistically done, but Joe Buck’s tough past became just that: a thing of the past that didn’t affect his future at all. Was there a lesson to be learned? Would he break out of his male prostituting to realize a higher self-worth? Would there be consequences for his actions? Nope. He just whores himself out and hangs out with his new sketchy friend.

Maybe I’m missing something here. Did you like Midnight Cowboy? Feel free to tell me I’m an asshole in the comments section below.

Next up: I got my paws on a screener of The Artist. I guess it’s time!