The Cow's Husband: A slow, odd afternoon at the movies

Is it worth your time?

If you like movies that move at the pace of a sleeping turtle, you’re home. If you need a plot that actually goes somewhere, stay far away.

Billy Murray is doing that thing he does where he stares at a wall for five minutes. Sometimes it’s mesmerizing. Sometimes it’s just… a guy staring at a wall. 🐄

Small moments, big confusion

There is a scene near the middle involving a bucket of feed and a fly that felt like it lasted for an eternity. I checked my watch. Twice.

The lighting in the kitchen changes constantly, like they forgot to check the sun position between takes. It’s kind of charming, in a 'we didn't have the budget for continuity' sort of way.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Cow's Husband (1931) through its definitive frames.

"Why is the cow inside the house again?" my brain asked about forty minutes in. The movie never answers. It doesn't even acknowledge that it’s weird.

It reminds me a little of the pacing in Westfront 1918, but without the trenches or the stakes. Or the point.

Random observations

• The sound design is mostly just wind and chewing. So much chewing.
• Murray wears the same sweater the entire time. It looks itchy.
• There's a moment where a door slams and it’s about three decibels too loud for the mix. I jumped.
• I’m pretty sure one of the extras in the background is just someone’s uncle who wandered onto the set.

It’s not quite as polished as Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which is obviously a given, but it has this weird, grimy texture that sticks to you.

I left the theater feeling hungry. Not because the movie made me think about food, but because I skipped lunch to watch a man argue with a farm animal. Classic me.

It’s not a masterpiece. It’s barely a movie. But I’ll probably think about that fly scene again tomorrow for no reason at all.