Lengua silenciosa

This much maligned and very strange Western is ambitious and interesting in places, but also pretentious, convoluted, silly and frequently boring. Shepard's direction is reasonable, and the main theme effective, but the ghost scenes are accompanied by a poor, pounding score and increasingly daft camera-work. The acting is similarly inconsistent: Mulroney is dire in a well-written minor role, and Bates overacts dreadfully, but Harris is fairly good and Phoenix unforgettable (if underused) in his final role. His first scene is particularly potent and moving. Indeed, whenever River is on screen the movie comes to life: his eccentric turn partly compensating for the long periods of poorly scripted shouting.

Despite some striking imagery, unusual subject matter and unwanted status as River's swansong, the film's expected cult status hasn't materialised, perhaps because it is plot less and pointless. Filmed for French TV in 1992, but not released until 1994, it grossed just $61,274 in the US. For a better, similarly offbeat modern take on the Western, try Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man. Silent Tongue is for Phoenix completists like myself only.

River Phoenix was a part of our 2003 All Soul's remembrances, and I'm shocked to find that a decade after his death, he is practically forgotten. Video clerks stared blankly at the mention of his name. (National video store clerks!! Two different chains!) I only located a few of his ensemble films at the major video rental outlets. "Silent Tongue" was among the meager offerings at a grocery store. Others I can't find at all.

If "The Thing Called Love" is your only experience of the "adult" River Phoenix, you might not recognize him in "Silent Tongue". He hardly looks the same. This is the film which finally gave us "River Phoenix; the man", and in it, he plays Richard Harris' addle pated son. Sadly his screen time was all too brief. Perhaps he knew his soul was about to be called home, for he finally broke through all the artifice and became the consummate actor we so often heard he was supposed to be, but seldom saw.

The film is compelling most often when River is on the screen. Gone is the boyish actions which hardly fit his far-seeing eyes. Gone is the dual self-importance and shyness which often felt false. Here we see a man truly possessed and lost; damned by his own makings. Burdened with something we can't quite understand. It rings of truth. Ugly and brutal, but truth nonetheless, as we were to learn that Halloween morning in 1993.

Richard Harris is also excellent as Prescott Roe. His love for his addled son is evident, and the character is both touching and pathetic in trying to protect him. Harris always managed to elevate his fellow actors by a rung or two, but there is nothing he could do to elevate those parts he did not appear in. I find it interesting that he twice played a father to a Phoenix boy son. Father to two wounded men, if only in the land of make-believe. There is a certain symmetry to it. I wonder how the real man thought about it.

The Mulroney part is unconvincing for the most part, but it is not the actor's fault. Sheila Tousey is interesting as the ghost and Jeri Arredondo is lovely to look at. I wish both ladies appeared in more films. The scene with Tantoo Cardinal is a waste of her talent and makes little sense to the whole. Since when did a rapist rear their own products to adulthood?

Watch the film to see River Phoenix as a man and to finally see his promise fulfilled. It would have been nice if the vehicle were a better one. Although it is flawed, it is worth the watch, if only to get a glimpse of what he would have brought to "Interview with a Vampire" and other roles. With the successes enjoyed by Keanu and Depp so much in evidence, it is hard not to be a little bit bitter, and bemoan the whys. Forgiveness is harder to come by, though the anger has started to dim. This film can go a long way to explain it all to those who are too young to remember who River Phoenix was.

Silent Tongue looks and feels like a great lost 60s spaghetti oater crossed with a Japanese ghost story. Richard Harris is excellent (and restrained!) as the father of River Phoenix, who is haunted by the less than ethereal remains of his late wife, a half breed purchased from traveling huckster Alan Bates (over-the-top but enjoyable!). Give playwright Sam Shepard his props for some outstanding direction: this man understands how to frame a shot better than 90% of the Hollywood hacks making big budget crapola. Strongly recommended.

Silent Tongue is a western about a disturbed young man (River Phoenix) who grows increasingly distraught over the death of his white/Amer. Indian wife. His father (Richard Harris) attempts to purchase the dead woman's sister, with the hope that she will be a consolation to his son.

What a peculiar movie! I can't say I liked it because there was nothing enjoyable about it ... on the other hand, I didn't hate it because it had some redeeming qualities. For example, Richard Harris (whom you may, perhaps, remember as English Bob in 'Unforgiven') was quite excellent, and director Shepard certainly had some vision for this picture; however, I can't say with any certainty what that vision was.

The film struck me as being about the desperation of grief and rage, and how both manifest themselves when they are not addressed or dealt with. The main characters all want to reverse something that has happened, yet the past cannot be changed. The wrongs they perceive were done against them can never be righted. What can they do with their pain except suffer it? They communicate not so much in words as in hurtful behaviors.

The film is not pretty to look at: the landscape is dry and yellow; the characters are begrimed and weary. The things they do and ultimately say are just ... ugly. It's an ugly, disheartening picture in which boorish people are motivated by the simplest of emotions to do base things because they cannot cope with reality.

I live in Roswell & I supplied MANY props for the movie, animal bones. I was known as the Bone Lady. We all hung at the Roswell Inn, River in the bar with straws hanging out of his nose, Richard Harris coming into the lobby in an English night shirt ( scrooge type ), Sam Shepard being rude while fondling a blonde .. not Jessica Lange. Most on the film were wonderful. John "Scully" Sullivan, artistic director (Lonesome Dove), the little actors, they all came to my house for a homemade meal. Richard Harris had a heart attack while filming here also! Was very hot out there for them. My "bones" ended up as the Buffalo Graveyard AND the burial tree. Have the coyote skull Richard signed for me. R.I.P.