Popcorn and a Movie: Living in a big heart story

[I]’ve been asked what my favorite movie is. I don’t answer right away. When your favorite movie (or, at least one of the top three) is “Sling Blade,” you hold off telling because people will react in a couple of ways. They will either stare at you as if you are deeply disturbed and/or they will begin to mimic the voice of Karl, the main character in the film, himself long ago locked away and deemed deeply disturbed for committing a horrific crime. They’ll drop their voices down and go, “Mmmm hmmm, like them french fried per-tators…mmmm hmmm.”

Either reaction makes me leery of sharing my love of the film (so I’m admitting my admiration in this quiet space of no visual or audible reaction) because, to me, the film is worthy of far more than such simplistic responses. Far more.

I know not everyone can love “Sling Blade” as much as I do, and I understand why. It’s dark and disturbing and darkly funny and hillbilly and back-woodsy and violent. It is a small film, somewhat simply shot, full of characters from small town rurality that are sure real enough that they would, in real life, be disregarded and so they are also in the medium of film.

My measure of a great movie — or great story of any kind — is one that shakes me in my shoes. I long to be moved on many levels. “Sling Blade” did that for me. I didn’t know what to expect the first time I saw it in 1997. What I ended up seeing was something I had not seen before. Two movies have left me sitting in the theater, stunned and weeping well past the credits. “Sling Blade” was one of them. It left me sobbing, yet hopeful, as it was storytelling at its finest .

I don’t know how many times I’ve seen the film since then — dozens, probably. I usually watch it at least once a year and, even though I own a copy of it, if I see it on some channel, I’ll land there (a marker for movies that have made it to my favorites list).

“Sling Blade,” has all the elements of what makes a movie great — rich characters, compelling story, dark humor and moving drama. Billy Bob Thornton wrote, directed and starred in the film, and ended up winning the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay (he expanded the story from an earlier short film he had done). Thornton said it took nine actual days of writing to complete the script. He created the main character, Karl Childers, from folks he had known growing up in Arkansas.

Thornton is nearly unrecognizable as the froggy voiced Karl, who, as a child growing up at the mercy of abusive parents, murders his mother and her lover. The movie opens with Karl — about to be released the mental hospital where he has been incarcerated for 25 years — telling his story to a young reporter,

On his own for the first time as an adult and having nowhere else to go, Karl returns to the hometown that once shunned him and begins to carve out a life for himself as a “whiz on small engines and things, “ in a fix-it shop. He befriends a young boy and his mother and lives in their garage, serving as the boy’s ally and protector against Doyle Hargraves, the boy’s mother’s abusive boyfriend, perfectly portrayed by Dwight Yoakum.

For all the movies about the South and small-town America, I find “Sling Blade” to feel the most authentic (next to “To Kill a Mockingbird,” which Thornton has mentioned as an inspiration). As seemingly “out there” as Karl, with his voice, appears to be and seemingly demanding to be mocked, “Sling Blade,” in no way mocks its characters and setting as many Southern films often do. To me, they look, act and sound like any number of people I have known in my life, in their speech and in their ways of both being as accepting, trusting and open to all types of folks as to their narrowness and rejection of them.

Karl is the ultimate anti-hero. On the surface, it would seem you would only laugh at him, but you root for someone who commits murder, and you root for him to commit murder, He is pure and his aims are, too. He has his own commitment to justice and redemption. Above all else, he sees himself in the boy he befriends and he must save them both.

“Sling Blade,” is one of those stories that I feel, as a storyteller, gives me permission to tell stories. As a storyteller who has not yet made good on her aims, I return to “Sling Blade,” as a testimony from a writer who inspires me because he followed his heart, which, as Karl says, is “an awful big place to live in.” But is always the right place to be.

For a popcorn for this movie, I picked something with mustard, because that is what Karl liked to eat on his biscuits. An enticing recipe stood out in the recent cookbook, “Party Popcorn,” by Ashton Epps Swank (2014). The recipe employs both dry and wet mustard, honey and brown sugar, and instead of biscuits (which would be a little strange with popcorn, now wouldn’t it?), sourdough pretzel bites. The snack is made in somewhat carmel-popcorn style — after all the ingredients are cooked, baking soda is added to create a foamy coating for the corn, which is baked in the oven for 15 minutes.

It’s a tasty accompaniment for “Sling Blade,” where crunch is good for those tense and dramatic moments, a little sweet counters the more emotional moments and the tang from the mustard lingers, like a good story should.

Honey-Mustard Pretzel Popcorn
From “Party Popcorn” by Ashton Epps Swank (2014)

Let cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before packaging or transferring to a bowl to serve immediately. The popcorn may be stored in an airtight container for up to a week.