‘Lucky’ is Stanton’s great last movie gift

If you get a chance to see the film "Lucky," you may walk out with a lot of questions. In the review that I wrote for Spokane Public Radio, I attempt to answer some of the more obvious:

When I think of the late Harry Dean Stanton, who died at the age of 91 on Sept. 15, I tend to recall a scene from one particular movie: Ridley Scott’s “Alien.” Stanton, cast as the crewman Brett, is alone, searching for the cat Jonesy. He walks through a large, warehouse-type room, occasionally calling out the cat’s name

At one point, he stops under a stream of water. He doffs his cap, allowing the water to wash over his face. Stanton stands there for a long minute, the camera capturing the contours of his angular features. Then he turns and …

Well, if you’ve seen Scott’s 1979 sci-fi/horror masterpiece, you know what happens next. And other than the need to suspend a massive amount of disbelief about the scene – that huge room and dripping water in a spaceship? – the biggest take-away is Stanton’s ability to hold your attention while seemingly doing nothing.

But, then, Stanton had been doing exactly that in movies and television since the mid-1950s. And if you don’t remember him in “Alien,” how about “Paris, Texas”? Or “Repo Man”? Or “Escape From New York”?

Or, getting to the point, the recently released independent film “Lucky”? Directed by the actor John Carroll Lynch, from an original script by Logan Sparks and Drago Sumonja, “Lucky” is one of Stanton’s final roles – and serves as a fitting capper on his career.

The character Stanton plays is exactly that: a town character in a small Southwestern burg full of colorful types. Lucky is 90, a guy set in his ways, who is far healthier than a lifelong smoker has any right to be. In fact, his doctor – played in a cameo by Ed Begley Jr. – says he might as well continue to smoke because stopping would likely do him more harm.

Lynch’s movie has a small focus – Lucky’s day-to-day existence – but never loses sight of larger issues. So while we accompany our elderly protagonist as he goes through his day (rising, walking to town, doing crossword puzzles at a diner counter, watching old TV shows, having drinks with the town’s other mostly quirky residents), we are invited to mull over the meaning of it all.

Sometimes, those invitations are obvious, as in when Lucky’s friend Howard – played by none other than filmmaker David Lynch – expresses grief over losing his pet tortoise, President Roosevelt. Or when a lawyer played by Ron Livingston tells Lucky about a near-miss auto accident that shook him to his core.

Other times, they are as subtle as the two guys waiting for Godot. Such as the moment when Lucky, attending a Mexican-themed birthday party, breaks into an impromptu version of the song “Volver, Volver.” Or when he walks into an alleyway with a lit-up door marked “Exit.” These are the moments when “Lucky” the movie most resembles something David Lynch – no relation to John Carroll Lynch – might direct. Only with more heart.

A heart and soul – though his character here would deny that last part – provided by the inimitable Stanton, one of cinema’s most unforgettable presences.