THE PERFECT MOVIE

The Black Stallion (1979)
Director: Carroll Ballard
Screenwriter: Melissa Matheson, based on a novel by Walter Farley
Cinematographer: Caleb Deschanel

The Black Stallion is a movie unremarkable except for one thing: it is almost perfect. The story of a boy (the piquant Kelly Reno) who is saved from a shipwreck by a beautiful Arabian horse, the movie belongs to the “winsome child plus animal” genre that includes such classics as National Velvet and The Yearling. Unlike those movies, however, The Black Stallion achieves true artistry. Through director Ballard’s use of minimal dialogue, exquisite cinematography and the subtle acting of its cast, this remarkable movie transcends its genre and reaches the pantheon of truly great films. I have many qualms about the AFI Top 100 Movie List, but its exclusion of The Black Stallion is unacceptable.

The most striking feature of Stallion is its lack of dialogue. Much of the movie is silent but for the sometimes charming but just as frequently irritating music of Carmine Coppola. The most striking sequence in the film, the shipwreck and subsequent isolation of the boy and horse on a deserted island, is a dialogue free forty-five minute sequence that tells the film’s story with pyrotechnic manipulation of film’s basic ingredients, image and sound. Compare this to the endless chatter and noise of most movies, especially ones geared toward children, and you will see how a master filmmaker achieves his goals with transparency and grace.

The cinematography by Caleb Deschanel (father of actresses Emily and Zooey) is sensitive to the mood and plot of the story. On the island, it is harsh and gritty. Once the child returns to civilization and the suburban embraces of his mother (an amusing Terri Garr), the colors become softer and richer. The pacing of the movie, which starts off idyllically and then turns explosive, only to turn idyllic and thrilling once again, is masterful.

Stallion’s one inarguable fault is Carmine Coppola’s music, which is on occasion somewhat overly obvious. The worst example of this is an underwater sequence for the boy and horse, which turns coy with its use of “ballet” music. However, much of the rest of the score is really lovely, and that one sequence does not spoil the movie.

Kelly Reno, the child actor playing the lead, turns in a performance remarkable for his ease on screen and his emotional transparency. Garr is very funny in the stereotypical part of the bewildered mother, and the ageless Mickey Rooney, here playing a retired horse trainer, turns in a subtle performance notable for its comic grace. However, the great performance here is by the stallion himself: a horse named Cassolé who embodies Ballard's questioning attitude towards man's treatment of animals. The stallion, like the child, is happiest when free, and his eventual subservience to man's wishes (in the film's climactic high-stakes race) seems tragic rather than celebratory. The final shot of the movie, of the stallion shucking off its halter and shaking its mane, is both joyful and deeply unsettling. We know that the horse is not truly free, and neither is the child. Their freedoms were temporary, and no less joyful for that.

I’m always amused by the dismayed or unbelieving responses of adults to whom I recommend this movie. It's a "children's movie" because a child can understand it, but its thematic complexity and great beauty make it worthy of adult attention. Put aside your fear of sincerity and your twenty-first century post-ironic attitudes and you will be greatly rewarded by The Black Stallion.