Oh, poor cowboy, say the word. In the pursuit of intense action, not burdened with deep meaning, a person, and specifically me, sometimes crosses all reasonable boundaries. So today, remembering my children's midnight vigils at a cowboy movie, I opened "Stray Bullet." Not that I did not recognize the romance of the situation, the nobility and purity of the characters and the coincidence of circumstances, but sometimes the caramel viscosity of what is happening is unnecessarily tied to the teeth.
So, what do we have? The focus is on a bounty hunter who has survived a personal tragedy and devoted all his time to revenge. He's a man who personally slapped a hell of a bunch of people. It is logical to assume that he is fierce, withdrawn and cynical. By no means, this mister is polite as a teacher of literature and modest as a kisey lady. And how he dulls his eyes when talking to the priestesses of love.
By the way, one of these priestesses. Since the days of "Pretty Woman" or even "Taxi Driver", the gentlemen of the Hollywood people are confident themselves and try to assure us that they, that is, the workers of the oldest profession, are purely sublime creatures waiting for their knight or, in extreme cases, a cowboy. Circumstances, of course, are different, maybe they come across such, but in this case it is not particularly believed. Rather, her hunt for a hunter (the “teacher of literature” and a master of a gun in one) is nothing more than a universal resentment for being rejected at the beginning of the acquaintance.
In general, blah-a-native western history, categorically contraindicated to persons over 16. On the other hand, it is strangely not annoying, and therefore
5 out of 10