Out of Sight

Running time: N/A

Out Of Sight is a powerfully ironic film of considerable power. Diane Starin, sightless since an infant, openly reveals the most intimate details of her life--considerable warts and all--to the probing eye of filmmaker David Sutherland's camera. Bravely--but also rather matter-of-factly, she provides an unflinching look into a life that is always full, albeit one that is also achingly complicated and messy. Here the stereotypical image of the noble blind person, heroically coping with the world in darkness, is not only rejected; it is summarily blown to pieces. In what Sutherland roughly labels a soapumentary, the film plunges us into a world of harsh realities, none of which have much, if anything at all, to do with physical blindness. In fact, Out Of Sight is nothing less than a wrenching modern-day love story, full of intrigue and passion, betrayal and lies. Diane is a wrangler and horse-shoer who lives with Herb--an old cow-hand in his sixties--in the ranch country north of Sacramento. She is lusty and self-assured, with no tolerance whatsoever for bullshit. He is an on-again, off-again alcoholic, who professes his love for her, but often acts otherwise. As the camera continues to eavesdrop on the never-ending difficulties in their relationship--the drinking, the infidelity, the weighty ache of being painfully connected--as well as the almost non-stop and hurtful invective heaped on Diane by her heartlessly dismissive step-father, there is a temptation to look away from embarrassment. But we cannot. Her story is too compelling. Your eyes never leave the screen. This film has no Hollywood-like triumph-of-the-spirit ending. Life, with all its bizarre twists and turns, simply goes on. And the very act of living that life is enough to make it an act of heroic proportions Like all first-rate cinematic expressions about the human condition, Out Of Sight is a moving portrait that is both timeless and unforgettable. --P.D. Crane