On the weekend of its opening, two individuals approached me–one on Saturday and the other on Sunday–and said the exact same thing.
"It was like watching someone playing in one of your games."
I beat the hell out of my players. I really do put them through the ringer. I make them fight for every last inch. That’s because I don’t like wish-fulfillment fantasy. I don’t like finding out that my parents aren’t really my parents and that I’m really someone special and that a secret world is just waiting for me to return and be the Redeemer-King.
No. I don’t dig that at all.
Because sooner or later, we have to come to terms with the fact that we aren’t secret orphans. No faerie queen is coming to take us away. We aren’t special. We aren’t unique. We are flesh and blood and bone and memory and love and pain.
We have to come to terms with the fact that we really are momma’s boys and daddy’s girls.
Because who we really are is how we act when it matters.
It’s a movie about all of that. And about how far a man will go to save his brother’s life.