What do the son of the town drunk, an orphan, the son of an oil baron, and a rancher have in common--nothing and everything? At 18, on the eve of graduation--an event marked by the annual catfish fry--the world is their oyster. But when you live 100 miles from nowhere in a town of 81 that world seems mighty constricted. The gas station at the edge of town where Keller works, the school, the one church, the general store and the diner. In a town this small and isolated there are no strangers; everyone is a neighbour and knows everyone else's business, right down to what bedroom they sleep in! These four have known one another their entire lives and they know no one else in their age group. They are friends because they have no other choice if they are to have any friends.
It's the kind of place where the general store stocks your favourite brands and the waitress at the diner has your order waiting for you before you even get to the counter. Wanting to escape this kind of intimacy when you are young and adventuresome is cliché; arriving at the point where getting away is actually possible is quite another matter. There is comfort in living in a town where no one locks their door, even if they have a lock on it; where the town widows keep the town widower stocked with home-cooked meals; where everyone knows your warts but accepts you anyway.
This movie has such resonance for me because I grew up in a village not unlike that portrayed here. Not as isolated perhaps but equally parochial. My own emotions are a mixture of nostalgia tinged with sadness that modern communications and transportation have created a society that is so mobile and in touch with the world at large that this kind of small-town atmosphere seems barely possible.
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