How the West Was Re-Spliced

Documentary filmmaker Ross McElwee once set out to trace General Sherman's destructive Civil War path to the sea. Then his girlfriend dumped him. Growing richer, smoother and more complex 40 years later, McElwee's hilarious and humane Sherman's March has aged like a fine Carolina tobacco leaf. A self-reflexively narrated 16mm road trip through romantic failures, nuclear dread, Southern dating rituals and Burt Reynolds fixations, this seminal first-person odyssey — now in a lovely new 4K restoration — influenced Michael Moore, John Wilson, and reality TV itself.

The anniversary release is timed to McElwee's upcoming new Remake (trailer), a beautiful heartbreaker that reflects on his late son Adrian, his home-movies career, and a proposed Hollywood adaptation of Sherman's March that crashed out.

Co-mingling their classical upbringing (viola, cello, bass) with post-punk grit, trip-hop textures, and a dollop of PJ Harvey's gothic folk, London's mary in the junkyard have an art-rock sound that's both off-kilter and eerily comforting. Led by Clari Freeman-Taylor’s haunting blend of intense lyricism and childlike vocals, "Role Model Hermit" is the sonic-youth trio's debut LP, recommended for fans of Dry Cleaning, Wednesday and Wet Leg (the latter of whom they supported on tour last year). As opener Mantra III repeats, "It is yours babe. You deserve it."

An eclectic, revisionist ode to the most American of genres, Anthology's summer showcase "Experimental Westerns, Part 1: Avant-Garde Westerns" saddles up today with a 35mm print of my late friend Bob Downey's off-the-wall messianic allegory Greaser's Palace. These ain't your granddaddy's oaters, from Andy Warhol's homoerotic parody Horse and Dennis Hopper's iconoclastic indulgence The Last Movie to the transcendental meditations of James Benning (Utopia, Deseret) and a found footage program. The series' second part ("Acid + International Westerns") stakes its claim in August.

I'm Usually Disappointed by Indie Westerns. Even at their most ambitious, the actors always look too clean. The costumes are giving Spirit Halloween. Where are the dusty, prairie-worn patinas and grimy fingernails? It's not the filmmakers' fault — period authenticity is expensive. But if you can't afford the spectacle, don't fake it. Lean into what you can afford: risk. Blockbuster flicks are deathly beholden to investors, test scores, four-quadrant approvals. They don't have the luxury to be weird, but you do. If you're making a low-budget western, don't chase John Ford. Make the next psychedelic El Topo. A dialogue-heavy contemporary piece like Lone Star. A personal, political, even minimal Meek's Cutoff. The films that last aren't the ones with the biggest budgets, but the boldest ideas.