Paper Moon

I’ve always had a thing for black and white photography. It’s not just nostalgia — it’s the way shadows and light argue with each other and somehow make peace on the same page. Recently, that obsession has leaked into movies.

Last night, I watched Paper Moon with my buddy Rick Douglas. It’s set during the Great Depression, which, to be honest, already feels black and white even before you turn the color off. Director Peter Bogdanovich decided to actually film it that way, and the result is gorgeous — every dusty Kansas road and peeling clapboard house looks like it was stolen from an antique postcard rack.

The movie follows a con man, Moses Pray (Ryan O’Neal), and a sharp-as-a-tack little girl, Addie (Tatum O’Neal). They meet at a funeral, which is about as cheerful a start as you’d expect from the Depression. At first, Moze tries to ditch her, but Addie’s got a talent for swindling that rivals his own. Together, they scam their way across the Midwest, bickering the whole time like an old married couple who just happen to share a box of stolen Bibles.

The chemistry between them is fantastic, but what really hooked me was how the black and white cinematography made it all feel more honest. You notice the things color would cover up — a look held a second too long, a sly grin before a scam, the way a cigarette smoke curl says more than dialogue ever could.

By the end, I wasn’t just impressed. I was weirdly touched. Paper Moon proves you don’t need special effects, explosions, or even color to make a great film. Just two characters, a few scams, and the right shades of gray.