Fifty years since its release and 20 years since I first saw it, The Last Picture Show remains one of the best portraits of the ways we often fail to be worthy of one another, and one of the most generous towards the myriad disappointments of growing up and growing old, especially for women.
This world is black and white and simple. Tumbleweeds languish outside empty gas stations. Trucks rattle down the lonely road. There’s the street with the picture show, the diner, and the pool hall. There’s your car, parked alongside the curb. All empty and open and waiting. You’re a young woman,...