Thornton's One-Man Show a Gem

That buzzing sound that woke you up at 8:30 last Tuesday was the echo of Oscar-buffs around the globe, scratching their chins and asking each other, "'Billy Bob' who? Is there a 'Billy Bob' here?" If you listened real hard, you could even hear "Clueless" Cher Horowitz piping, "This is California, not Kentucky!" All the same, Southern-born filmmaker Billy Bob Thornton has cut himself a big slice of the Hollywood pie. "Sling Blade"--nominated for Thornton's script and for his own starring performance--was, for some, the biggest surprise in a nomination field full of offbeat choices.

But how offbeat is "Sling Blade," really? In some ways, Thornton's Southern-gothic thriller is an unlikely hybrid of "Forrest Gump" and "Pulp Fiction," the tent-poles of the Oscar race two years ago. That is, "Sling Blade" inhabits some fairly original territory, but doesn't deliver on all of its promises.

Thornton, you see, wants to have his box of chocolates and hack it to pieces, too. Directing his own self-scripted performance (did he cater it, too?), Thornton plays Karl Childers, a mildly retarded mental patient who, in his late thirties, is released back into the small Southern town he left twenty-five years before. That, you see, was the day he found Mama in bed with a neighbor and did a little number on them with the weapon of the title. Karl, though, is more half-baked than he is half-mad, the kind of convicted murderer who Didn't Know Any Better, and who helps little 12-year-old boys named Frank carry home heavy bags of laundry.

Few eyebrows are raised, then, when a single gal named Linda (Natalie Canerday) takes Karl in as company for said Frank (Lucas Black), her son. If this were a Hollywood movie, Karl would be hit by a beam of light, Babyface would croon a Tender Ballad, and Karl's newfound ability to learn Sanskrit in an hour would have Linda begging for more.

Movies, however, are called "Sling Blade" for a reason, and that reason is Doyle (Dwight Yoakam, sans cowboy hat), Linda's construction-worker boyfriend. Doyle, the trashiest of trash, is goading and just generally pissed when sober, but dangerous and violent when drunk--which, sadly for Linda and Frank, is pretty much all the time.

"Sling Blade" doesn't pretend for a moment not to know where it is going, but the heart of the film lies not so much in what happens as in why. Sometimes, the reasons are stirring: the Bible-born compassion Karl has for lonely Frank cannot tolerate the cruelty of the Herod-like Doyle. His inevitable act of violence is, at least in part, a religious mercy mission. Other reasons are less convincing: Does a story arc this simple need back-story effluvia like buried infants, failed bar bands, an attempt by John Ritter (yes, the John Ritter) to play a plausible gay character?

Like "Gump," "Sling Blade" creates a fascinating protagonist but never fully decides what to do with him. Thornton is nonetheless a wonder to behold in the role, the rare actor who turns obvious mannerisms into a palpable personality. Karl ends all of his sentences with a guttural self-affirmation ("I don't reckon I got no reason to kill nobody, mmmhmmm") as though all of his statements contained a deeper truth that he alone fully appreciates.

Thornton unfortunately saddles his script with too many Autistic Saint cliches--he fixes dead lawn mowers in minutes, he out-Gumps Gump on the football field--but he steadily reveals an emotional core that feels honest and unforced.

"Sling Blade" is, moreover, a genuine ensemble piece. Thornton is attentive and respectful of all of his characters, even of the monsters, and it avoids becoming, like another recent auteur project, "The Kenneth Branagh Story."

If anything, "Sling Blade" spreads the wealth so broadly over so many characters and events that the dramatic focus meanders. A little Tarantino-style, non-linear narration might have added some tension, but then again, Karl's story should be as steady and straightforward as he is.

The picture was born as a short film and probably should have stayed that way, since I reckon no conclusion this certain needs a build-up this long, mmm-hmmm. To its credit, though, "Sling Blade" plays out among real human beings, a welcome break in a year of airborne cows and impossible missions. A few swift cuts in the editing room and Thornton could have had a real winner. As is, "Sling Blade" is a worthy runner-up.