Shadow Casting: The Making of 'A River Runs Through It' Page #6

Synopsis: This made-for-video documentary treats drama fans to a behind-the-scenes look at the making of A River Runs Through It, about two brothers from Montana who seek out different paths for their futures, but still share their love of fly fishing. Features interviews with the cast and crew of the film who share their experiences from working on the project, as well as discuss the special efforts that went into bringing it all together.
Genre: Documentary
Director(s): Dennis Aig
 
IMDB:
6.3
Year:
1992
456 Views


You're all right if you're out of work.

Well, now.

Give us a couple of boilermakers, friend.

Two up.

Well...

Here's to the heart, goddamn it.

Oh, Lordy!

I'm in love with Jessie Burns.

Jesus Christ, Norm.

With all the fish in the river.

Well, not like her.

Oh, right.

Not like her.

Congratulations.

I'm real happy for ya.

Well, goddamn it,

let's get the hell out of here and celebrate.

Done.

#... Bananas today

# We've got home-grown potatoes

# And vine-ripened tomatoes... #

- It's a stinker.

- What?

It stinks.

What do you mean?

This is gonna be... It's a classic.

Oh, really?

# Yes, we have no bananas

# We have no bananas today#

Where are we? Where are we going?

- Lolo.

- Yep.

I figured you felt lucky tonight.

I could use some of the luck.

Jesus Christ! No, don't.

Don't be the professor tonight.

Norm...

Preacher?

Hello, Frank.

Well, my gal Sal.

Sal? Hey, Sal!

- Get a drink for my brother.

- Bourbon.

In fact, how about a round on me?

He's in love.

Hang on.

Take care of him, Sal.

Not a good idea, Paul.

Fellas? Got a chair for me?

- Not for you, Paul.

- Aw, come on, you know I'm good for it.

- What do you want?

- What?

Cards? What?

Beat it.

What do you want?

Nothing.

A buck.

I know Paul says he's paying, but...

OK!

OK, OK, OK.

No, no... Just... games.

Only games.

Let's go. Now.

Come on, we're getting outta here.

Righty-oh-ho-ho.

Bye-bye, sonny.

- I'm not leaving.

- What?

These hands are hot, Norm. I can feel it.

What are you talking about?

You can't go back in there!

Norm, it's fine. I'll be fine.

- But they won't even let you play!

- Oh, yes, they will.

With what? You're in debt

up to your goddamn neck!

Norm, it's my debt.

OK? It's my debt.

Jesus Christ!

Norm!

Norm!

Norm.

Hey.

I was thinking.

We never got to go fishing again.

Maybe we can go tomorrow.

We could get Dad to come along.

OK?

You ask him.

OK.

Boy, something smells good out there!

Morning, everybody. Morning!

- Want some muffins?

- Perfect.

I'm so glad you could make it,

with work and everything.

I wouldn't miss it.

What are you working on?

Do you have any new stories to tell us?

A story? Hm... All righty.

Oh, jeez.

I have one.

What?

I've been offered a job

at the University of Chicago.

Yes?

Teaching literature.

What?

Starting fall term.

I'm gonna take it.

Norman!

I am pleased.

Yes, I am pleased.

Well...

A professor?

A real professor.

Damnation!

I'm proud of you.

Now, you be sure to take pictures.

- We're gonna get some big fish.

- Yes, we are! Let's go!

Remember those rocks we used to go to?

- Those were mean rocks.

- Yeah, nearly a billion years old.

Half a billion.

Come on!

Well...

...I, uh, believe

the high road will suit me better.

Oh!

There was a time...

You'll make a killing!

He'll make a killing.

- Let's fish together today.

- Good.

- What are they biting on?

- What?

- What are they biting on?

- Louder!

I said...

Bunyan Bugs!

Want me to bring you one?

No! I'll come and get it.

Bunyan Bug stonefly number two.

Thank you, O merciful professor

of poetry and trout.

I'm going to ask Jessie to marry me.

Yes.

Quite a day.

Why don't you come with us to Chicago?

It's 2,000 miles away. They got

more than a dozen papers there.

You'd be right in the middle of things.

What do you say?

Come with us.

Oh, I'll never leave Montana, Brother.

There!

Oh me, oh my!

Look at that fish!

Unbelievable.

At that moment, I knew,

surely and clearly...

...that I was witnessing perfection.

You... You are a fine fisherman.

Only need three more years

before I can think like a fish.

You're already thinking

like a dead stonefly. Picture.

Mother's pictures.

- Hurry up.

- One.

Two.

My brother stood before us,

not on a bank of the Big Blackfoot River...

...but suspended above the earth...

...free from all its laws, like a work of art.

Three!

And I knew just as surely

and just as clearly...

...that life is not a work of art...

...and that the moment could not last.

And so when the police sergeant

awakened me one morning...

...just before Jessie and I

left for Chicago...

...I rose and asked no questions.

He drove me back home,

down the length of the river...

...so that I could tell

my father and mother...

...that Paul had been beaten to death

by the butt of a revolver...

...and his body dumped in an alley.

Is there anything else you can tell me?

Nearly all the bones in his hand

were broken.

Which hand?

His right hand.

As time passed, my father struggled

for more to hold on to...

...asking me again and again,

had I told him everything?

And finally, I said to him...

..."Maybe all I really know about Paul...

...is that he was a fine fisherman. "

"You know more than that,"

my father said.

"He was beautiful. "

And that was the last time

we ever spoke of my brother's death.

Indirectly, though, Paul was always

present in my father's thoughts.

I remember the last sermon I heard him

give, not long before his own death.

Each one of us here today...

...will at one time in our lives...

...look upon a loved one in need

and ask the same question.

"We are willing to help, Lord,

but what, if anything, is needed?"

For it is true

we can seldom help those closest to us.

Either we don't know

what part of ourselves to give...

...or, more often than not,

the part we have to give...

...is not wanted.

And so it is those we live with

and should know...

...who elude us.

But we can still love them.

We can love completely...

...without complete understanding.

Now, nearly all those I loved and did not

understand in my youth are dead...

...even Jessie.

But I still reach out to them.

Of course, now I'm too old

to be much of a fisherman.

And now I usually fish

the big waters alone...

...although some friends think I shouldn't.

But when I am alone

in the half-light of the canyon...

...all existence seems to fade

to a being with my soul and memories...

...and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot

River and a four-count rhythm...

...and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one...

...and a river runs through it.

The river was cut

by the world's great flood...

...and runs over rocks

from the basement of time.

And some of the rocks

are timeless raindrops.

Under the rocks are the words...

...and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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