WOOD PANELLING. The sink overflows with dishes. Pizza boxes piled beside rows of empty beer, and whiskey bottles on the lime-green linoleum counter. The smell - of the dishes and garbage that's been left too long - is only slightly disinfected by the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Perhaps there is the smell of another disinfectant as well: a row of bleached animal skulls is arranged on a shelf lkge knickknacks. The cowboy explained to me how he'd stripped them down to the pure white with some sort of acid. They are a powerful white indeed. Badger, deer, eagle, sparrow, gopher, cow, horse, dog. Morbid but beautiful. Certainly sculptural. They dominate the room, presiding over it all with their empty eyes. I can't help thinking of Dad. I take photos, having been let loose to document the lair in any way I choose while the cowboy has gone to "do his ablutions."
Gowan sends his men deep into primitive life. Even those living - what a big word - existing would be better, in cities are raw. Their suit don't fit; they're polyester, shiny and uncomfortable. Les femmes: plus à l'aise; plus volontaires. Pas surprenant qu'elles dirigent, conduisent et prennent des décisions. Mais, à la fin, tout ce beau monde ne trouvera la paix que dans la mort: du rêve ou de la vie... Ou de l'inatteignable: Ai, woman fooled by a big time movie producer, is looking for a deadend road! She finds it and turns back to life; her one day companion still walks the prairie dealing with his lost opportunities et les affres de sa terre d'origine.
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