Meeting up with the current Mayor, Hollis Pogue (Clifton James), Sam gets him to go over the oft-told story of Wade's disappearance (which left a vacancy for Buddy to fill). The background to this was that Wade was a notoriously despised and feared officer, expectant of a cut from every racket and quick to anger, a nasty piece of work. Both Hollis and Buddy were deputy's back then, right up until the moment when Buddy refused to take any further part in the extortion. Incensed at opposition to his dictatorial rule, Wade strode out of the restaurant with Hollis and was never seen again. Sam reckons that Buddy murdered Wade, but then he's always lived beneath his father's reputation and would love to bring down the legend.
Arrayed against Sam are the towns-folk, not one of whom has an unkind word for the memory of Buddy. Not just a blessed relief from the tyrannical Wade, he was a fair and decent lawman in his own right. However, all of this has nothing to do with Sam's real reason for returning to his birthplace, after Buddy's death and his own messy divorce from Bunny (Frances McDormand). The magnet was his high-school sweetheart Pilar Cruz (Elizabeth Pena), now a dedicated school teacher with kids of her own. Once upon a time, Buddy discovered the two of them making-out at a drive-in and tore them violently apart (another slight visited by father upon son). Since Pilar's mother Mercedes (Miriam Colon) was adamantly opposed to their relationship, that was the beginning of the end for Sam. Now he's back and determined to bare the truth, even if that means destroying the legend of his father.
With Lone Star, John Sayles has moved past the creation of a handful of characters and onto the challenge of an entire town. That he almost pulls it off, exposing the overlapping lives of the populace, indicates his talent. In Frontera there are three dominant ethnic groups, mixed at their boundaries yet conscious of their distinct heritages. Sam represents the white settlers who constitute only 10% of the population yet wish to dictate Frontera's past and future. Facing them across borders both physical and psychological are the Mexicans, made corporeal in the form of Mercedes (perhaps the biggest racist of all). Stuck in the middle is the small community of blacks, some local but most temporary residents of the nearby Army base. To his credit, Sayles constructs a beautifully balanced, complex and reasonable picture of all of these people.
Apart from showing that the boundaries between individuals are mostly artificial, though no less powerful because of this, Lone Star also makes the same point with history. The past is a burden that hangs over Frontera, weighing on the living and colouring their actions. This is especially the case with Sam but everyone is reliant upon their past, whether they suppress it or cherish it. The porous walls between time frames are superbly realised by Sayles' seamless editing. Instead of jarring flashbacks and intrusive voice-over, the camera simply pans away and deposits you elsewhere. It's a shock the first time but after that this seems a very naturalistic way of viewing time and events.
The level of acting is high, with the many believable roles being filled out and defined in only a few scenes. However, the sheer number of characters in Lone Star means that many are simply used then dropped, never to be seen again. In fact, entire storylines could be dropped without damaging the film, though Lone Star would no longer be as messy as real life. The intelligent script helps keep personalities from blurring into one another, with the inherent narrative clarity really shining through. Excellent photography makes good use of the desert locale, which only makes it more of a pity that the poor sound quality weakens the whole. Several times lines are indecipherable, a real shame. Still, Lone Star makes the point that the past should be laid to rest, literally and metaphorically, very impressively.