Lucky Christian Review
Life’s biggest questions—purpose, mortality, and the unknown—are tricky terrain. They’re also front and center in Lucky, a quietly evocative film starring the legendary Harry Dean Stanton. The film’s beauty lies in its simplicity: an unhurried narrative, small-town characters with depth, and a protagonist who stares down the final chapter of life without blinking. For a Christian audience, though, it’s not just what’s said (or left unsaid) but how those threads weave together—or unravel—that leaves an impression. Let’s unpack this.
A Gentle Film with Sharp Edges
Some films aim to dazzle; Lucky chooses to simmer. It meanders through the life of an elderly man living in a sunbaked desert town. There’s no grand plot, just Lucky going about his days—walking to the diner, doing crossword puzzles, watching game shows. Beneath the surface, though, there’s a deep current: Lucky is nearing the end of his life, and he knows it.
This isn’t a movie that pretends to have answers, either. Lucky’s journey is about wrestling with the void. But it’s not in a desperate or melodramatic way. There’s a stillness to it, an acceptance even, that feels both unsettling and oddly comforting. And that’s where it gets tricky for Christians watching. Is this the kind of acceptance we’re called to? Or is it missing something vital—hope?
Stanton Shines, But What’s Missing?
Harry Dean Stanton, who passed away shortly after the film’s release, is magnetic here. His weathered face and soft voice carry the weight of a lifetime. You believe him when he plays his harmonica or recites the definition of “realism” from the dictionary. His performance feels lived-in, not acted.
Yet, as much as the film is a love letter to Stanton, it’s also an exploration of belief—or the lack of it. Lucky doesn’t believe in God. He doesn’t seem bitter about it, just resolved. For Christian viewers, this can hit hard. The Bible reminds us that “the fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God'” (Psalm 14:1). Watching a man like Lucky, so full of wisdom and grace yet seemingly blind to the ultimate truth, stirs something uncomfortable.
Lucky’s life has depth, but it feels like a house built without a foundation. It’s sturdy until the storm comes. And the storm, in this case, is death.
The Beauty of Quiet Moments
Still, it would be unfair to dismiss Lucky outright. There’s something undeniably beautiful about the way it lingers on small, ordinary moments. When Lucky plays “Red River Valley” on his harmonica, it’s not just music; it’s memory, longing, and vulnerability wrapped into a single note. Scenes like these remind us of the value in the here and now—the fleetingness of life.
For Christians, such moments can serve as a call to gratitude. Scripture often encourages us to cherish life’s simple joys: a meal shared, the warmth of the sun, the laughter of friends. Lucky’s world, stripped of distraction, mirrors that simplicity. But the film also stops short of acknowledging the Giver of those gifts.
Existential Crisis or Spiritual Awakening?
What makes Lucky unique is its refusal to sugarcoat. It doesn’t give us tidy resolutions or pat answers. But that’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s refreshing to see a film grapple honestly with mortality. On the other, there’s an emptiness to its existentialism—a sense that Lucky is grappling in the dark without ever finding the light switch.
From a Christian perspective, this is where the film can be both compelling and frustrating. It’s compelling because it speaks to something universal: the fear of the unknown. But it’s frustrating because the gospel provides a way through that fear. Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die” (John 11:25). Lucky doesn’t find that promise, and watching him confront his mortality without it is heartbreaking.
The Puzzle of “Realism”
One standout moment in the film is when Lucky looks up the definition of “realism.” It’s one of those scenes that seems small but carries a lot of weight. Realism, in this context, is about facing life as it is, without illusions. Lucky embraces this idea, and there’s a certain bravery in that.
But realism without faith can only take you so far. As Christians, we’re called to acknowledge reality—the pain, the suffering, the brevity of life—but not to stop there. Faith adds another dimension, a hope that transcends the here and now. Without it, realism risks becoming cynicism.
The Spiritual Takeaway
Lucky isn’t a “Christian film,” and it doesn’t try to be. But that doesn’t mean it’s devoid of value for Christian viewers. It’s a film that raises questions rather than answering them, and sometimes, those questions are worth sitting with.
For believers, it’s a reminder that the world is full of people like Lucky—good, kind, reflective people who are still searching. The film challenges us to consider how we engage with those who don’t share our faith. Are we offering them hope? Or are we staying silent, like the characters in Lucky’s world, content to let the questions hang in the air?
Final Thoughts
So, where does that leave us? Lucky is a quiet, deeply human film that touches on universal themes. It’s not preachy, and it doesn’t demand anything from its audience except patience. For some, that will be its strength. For others, it might feel like a missed opportunity.
As a Christian, I found myself both moved and unsettled by it. Moved by its honesty, its artistry, and Stanton’s remarkable performance. Unsettled by its lack of resolution, its refusal to look beyond the veil.
Lucky is a beautiful film, but it’s incomplete. It shows us the questions but not the answers. And while it may not believe in God, it unknowingly points to Him—because the longing for meaning, for purpose, for something beyond ourselves, is written into every human heart.
If you watch Lucky, watch it with eyes wide open. Let it challenge you, but don’t let it leave you in the same place. Use it as a starting point for reflection—and for prayer. After all, we’re all a little like Lucky, standing on the edge of eternity, wondering what it all means.
Rating: 7/10
For its craftsmanship and emotional depth, Lucky earns a solid score. But its spiritual silence keeps it from being truly profound for those of us who know there’s more to the story.
