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Classic Film Review: Matewan (1987)

Classic Film Review: Matewan (1987)

Directed by John Sayles

Written by John Sayles

Produced by Peggy Rajski and Maggie Renzi

Main Cast: Chris Cooper, James Earl Jones, Mary McDonnell, Will Oldham, David Strathairn, Kevin Tighe, Gordon Clapp, Bob Gunton, etc.

Cinematography by Haskell Wexler

** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **



For me, John Sayles represents almost everything that is admirable about independent filmmaking and is quite simply a phenomenal screenwriter. His best scripts never feel mechanically constructed. They breathe. Characters wander into scenes carrying entire histories with them, and seemingly casual conversations reveal class, politics, relationships, disappointments and decades of buried resentment. Films such as the magnificent, Matewan (1987), Passion Fish (1992), Eight Men Out (1988) and impressive, Lone Star (1996) demonstrate just how sophisticated his writing can be, yet there is rarely anything flashy or self-conscious about it.

Moreover, I also love the sheer pragmatism of the career he built. Sayles understood that being an independent filmmaker didn’t mean pretending Hollywood didn’t exist. He started out writing wonderfully entertaining low-budget genre pictures for Roger Corman — Piranha (1978), The Lady in Red (1979), Alligator (1980) and Battle Beyond the Stars (1980) among them — and went on to become a successful screenwriter and highly regarded script doctor on much bigger Hollywood productions. He could take the money and experience from those assignments and then return to the films that really mattered to him. Rather than waiting for the industry to give him permission to make his movies, he found a way of financing and sustaining them himself.

And perhaps that is why I find Sayles so inspiring. The Hollywood work didn’t dilute his independence — in many ways, it enabled it. Across decades of filmmaking, he retained his curiosity, his integrity and his belief that audiences were intelligent enough to engage with complicated characters and complicated ideas. For any filmmaker trying to make personal work outside the mainstream, John Sayles isn’t simply a great writer-director. He’s a genuine indie filmmaking hero — and proof that it is possible to survive within the film business without allowing the business to define the films you make.

I recently re-watched, Matewan (1987), having not seen it for years. It is a beautifully crafted, deeply humane piece of American cinema in which the personal, political and historical become inseparable. Taking the real-life Matewan coal conflicts of 1920 as his foundation, Sayles creates something far richer than a conventional historical drama. This is a film about miners and their families, immigrants and outsiders, union organisers and company men; about people discovering that their only real strength lies in standing together against corporate bosses prepared to use intimidation, exploitation and outright violence to maintain their power.



There is an incredible humanity running throughout the film. Sayles understands the divisions between these workers — racial, cultural, religious and economic — and therefore never makes their eventual solidarity feel easy or sentimental. The miners have to overcome suspicion and prejudice before recognising that the forces dividing them are also helping to keep them powerless. At the centre of it all is Chris Cooper, superb as union organiser Joe Kenehan: quiet, intelligent, principled and determined to prevent an already volatile situation from descending into violence. Around him Sayles constructs an entire community, allowing individual lives, marriages, friendships and rivalries to exist alongside the larger political struggle.

The film is also visually magnificent. Working with the great cinematographer Haskell Wexler, Sayles gives Matewan (1987) a rich, earthy, almost tactile quality. The mountains, forests, railway tracks, wooden houses and coal-blackened interiors don’t merely provide an interesting period backdrop; they seem to contain the history of the people living and working within them. There is mud, smoke, sweat, blood, tears and darkness everywhere, contrasted with the natural beauty of the West Virginia landscape. The mines themselves feel oppressive and dangerous, while the wider landscape can appear both beautiful and imprisoning. Further, while these people live among extraordinary natural beauty they are being economically trapped by the company that controls the coal mines.

Rather than building the film around conventional movie stars, Sayles assembled the kind of extraordinary American character actors who make every face and every voice feel as though it belongs in this world. Chris Cooper – in his debut feature – gives the film its moral centre, while James Earl Jones brings enormous dignity, warmth and authority to ‘Few Clothes’ Johnson. David Strathairn is wonderfully memorable as Sid Hatfield, and Mary McDonnell brings intelligence and emotional complexity to Elma Radnor. Then there is Kevin Tighe as Hickey, one of the Baldwin-Felts agents sent into Matewan to intimidate the miners and break their resistance. Tighe gives the film a genuinely menacing presence: smiling, controlled and utterly comfortable with the threat of violence.

The combination of historical detail, political conviction, memorable acting and direction, magnificent cinematography, beautifully observed characterisation and gripping storytelling is what makes Matewan (1987) such a remarkable achievement. Sayles takes a specific labour dispute in a West Virginia mining town and turns it into something both intimate and expansive: a story about solidarity, dignity, prejudice, exploitation and the terrible price ordinary people can pay when they challenge entrenched power. Yet for all its anger, Matewan (1987) never loses its compassion. Sayles remains interested in people first. It is muscular, intelligent, visually beautiful and deeply moving filmmaking, made with enormous integrity — and one of the finest examples of just how powerful American independent cinema can be.

Mark: 9.5 out of 11


Cinema Review: One Battle After Another (2025) – an exhilarating revolutionary romp that lacks the depth of those films it attempts to emulate!

Cinema Review: One Battle After Another (2025)

Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

Written by Paul Thomas Anderson

Inspired by Vineland by Thomas Pynchon

Produced by Adam Somner, Sara Murphy, Paul Thomas Anderson

Main Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Sean Penn, Benicio del Toro, Regina Hall, Teyana Taylor, Chase Infiniti, Wood Harris, Tony Goldwyn, Kevin Tighe, Shayna McHayle, etc.

Cinematography by Michael Bauman

Music by Jonny Greenwood

*** CONTAINS SPOILERS ***



It’s a brave filmmaker that quotes one of the greatest revolutionary films of all time during it’s runtime, namely Battle of Algiers (1966). But Paul Thomas Anderson’s formidable cinematic career more than earns him the right to quote a film as towering as The Battle of Algiers (1966) in his latest release One Battle After Another (2025).

Across works like Boogie Nights (1997) and Magnolia (1999), he has demonstrated a mastery of ensemble storytelling and emotional crescendo; with Punch-Drunk Love (2002) he revealed a gift for intimate, offbeat romance; and in There Will Be Blood (2007) and Phantom Thread (2017) he proved himself one of the most rigorous visual stylists and psychological dramatists of his generation. Such a body of work grants him the authority to converse with cinema’s political masterpieces, even if his more recent Licorice Pizza (2021) felt comparatively diffuse and lacking in urgency. His filmography, at its strongest, stands as evidence of a filmmaker deeply attuned to the legacies and possibilities of the medium.

Having said that, Gillo Pontecorvo’s The Battle of Algiers (1966) wields revolutionary power through its raw immediacy, embedding viewers in the lived experience of anti-colonial struggle with a documentary-like realism that blurs the line between record and re-creation. By contrast, Anderson’s One Battle After Another (2025) approaches revolution less as lived history than as a cinematic genre to be emulated, drawing on the tropes and textures of upheaval without grounding itself in the direct urgency of political struggle. Where Pontecorvo conjures revolution as something happening before our eyes, Anderson refracts it through the prism of style, making revolution as much a matter of aesthetic construction as lived reality. It is during its lengthy running time extremely entertaining though.



The opening hour is fast-paced and crams in a lot of action and personality. It establishes a fine ensemble cast, strong characters, striking palette and compelling themes which bring to life Anderson’s sharply written and fantastically filmed screenplay. The narrative focuses on “Ghetto” Pat Calhoun (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), lovers and leaders of the far-left French 75, who storm detention centres, bomb banks, and sabotage power grids, while their soon-to-become nemesis—Officer Steven Lockjaw (Sean Penn)—becomes erotically obsessed with Perfidia, sparing her life when he catches her planting a bomb in exchange for a sexually masochistic tryst. Thus, begins a warped love/hate triangle and rivalry which provides the backbone for the action.

The second hour pivots sharply after establishing Perfidia as a commanding revolutionary presence. The focus pulls to her daughter, Willa (Chase Infiniti), some sixteen years later, now living off the grid and avoiding all but the most basic technology out of fear of surveillance. ‘Pothead’ Pat, has withered into a paranoid and barely functioning stoner-alcoholic, leaving Willa to emerge as the steadier, more mentally resilient figure in their fractured household. The film undeniably suffers from the absence of Perfidia’s charisma and drive, yet it regains momentum when the now Colonel Lockjaw revives his obsessive pursuit, setting the stage for a tense reconfiguration of the story’s revolutionary stakes.

The acting in One Battle After Another (2025) crackles with intensity, led by standout turns from Taylor, Penn, and crafty scene-stealer, Benicio Del Toro. Further, Anderson’s casting team find some amazing supporting military personnel who deliver with uncanny authenticity. Sean Penn’s performance as a swaggering officer radiates brute masculinity—his very walk and gait dripping with testosterone and worthy of awards consideration on their own. Leonardo DiCaprio, meanwhile, folds another eccentric, messy, and deeply contradictory figure into his already remarkable CV, a creation that resonates with the layered complexity of his recent work in Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon (2023). He is actually far more hilarious here, as demonstrated in his desperate attempts to overcome the revolutionary helpline he calls for instructions.

Overall, One Battle After Another (2025) works best as a searing, darkly funny revolutionary black comedy, blending sexual, military, conspiracy, and social politics into a heady mix of action, crime, road movie, and romance tropes. The result is a wildly entertaining visual and musical feast, even if it stops short of delivering true socio-political depth. While the film’s closing stretch leans into deliberate plot ambiguities that complicate its resolution, Anderson ultimately serves up a combative cinematic blast—stylish, sharp, and exhilarating—if just shy of a bona fide classic.

Mark: 8.5 out of 11