Dixieland: Rusty Dreamers and Fried Chicken Blues

So, I just watched *Dixieland* last night, and honestly, I’m still trying to figure out if I liked it or just sort of… liked being confused by it. I mean, you’ve got Riley Keough (who’s basically movie royalty, Elvis’ granddaughter and all) and Chris Zylka grinding through Mississippi mud, both desperate to crawl outta their tiny, broken world. And who could forget Faith Hill (yeah, the country singer!) turning up in a pretty harsh and no-fancy mama role. Director Hank Bedford, never heard of the guy before, but he’s got a gritty touch, for sure – the film basically sweats humidity and hopelessness.

There’s this thing with American movies about the rural south – they always smell a bit like old socks and burnt gasoline, you know? *Dixieland* hits that right on the nose. The houses all look like they haven’t seen a coat of paint since ABBA won Eurovision. But damn, the atmosphere pulls you in. It’s got that Swedish ‘landet’ feeling, just with more tattoos and less falukorv.

You ever been to a scruffy party out in Vallentuna, when you were young and everything just felt stuck? Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop watching: it all reminded me of that summer in ’99 when I got lost outside Enköping after a dance, feeling both alone and almost free. Like the whole world was small town prison bars.

Not gonna lie, the story is thin in some places. Some pieces just don’t click. I wish they let the characters breathe more instead of squashing them into misery. But Keough’s got an electric presence, and even when things felt predictable, she’s waking you up.

If you like films that don’t sugarcoat life, and you’re not afraid of a film that ends like a Swedish winter – dark, a little unfinished – give this one a go. Bring a snack. Maybe a kanelbulle.

watch the full movie on Mavshack Movies on YouTube

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