I’m hitting the road for a quarter of Phish in a minute and seeing QT’s latest tonight (updates on Twitter), so I’ll make this quick. Charles Burnett‘s classic of black independent cinema has finally arrived in theaters thirty years after it’s been made, but to be honest, I don’t think the years have treated it kindly. No doubt, in 1977, this must have been an extraordinary and unique film. The artistry and historical value is undeniable, but it didn’t connect with me in a real emotional way and we’ve seen most of its moves many times in the interim. We’ve seen David Gordon Green’s George Washington, we’ve seen urban ennui and indie verite understatement, and we’ve seen Sarah Vaughn been used better by Tom Tykwer–not to speak of the slaughterhouse floor, which we’ve just seen more than enough of (and in color!) in Fast Food Nation and Our Daily Bread. Still, something about this is stuck in my craw and I might give it another spin soon.

Killer of Sheep. Charles Burnett, 1977. ***