I’ve read the story of Junius and Robbie before many, many years ago and it always stayed with me. The image of sitting on a tree branch, barefooted in the river and lazy for days on end while philosophizing about whatever with a good friend is my idea of heaven. I can think of nothing better. Neither could Steinbeck, I imagine, since the ending of the story always makes me so sad.
All his stories have heartbreak
The blurring of the line between film making and true life is never more bizarrely crossed as when Miguel, after being arrested, is asked by the guard how directors can make movie dead bodies bleed like real ones. That story is then followed up with the slitting of the three men’s throats in real life.
The scene where the old woman congratulates him on being from Uruguay is sadly funny as is the bench with hearts.