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More philistine ramblings:

Custer of the West (Robert Siodmak 1967) It's easy to understand why 1967's audiences and critics would reject something as innocuous as this in the year of Bonnie and Clyde and the Dirty Dozen, but that doesn't mean it was a fair fight. Far from the disaster it's considered, I found this to be is a mildly strange prestige epic that had the misfortune of being made about ten years too late. The film is structured in a way that makes it clear that all involved can't quite make up their mind, re: "What the eff was up with Custer?" The version of the Last Stand is as ludicrous as they come (and maybe the most), but there's something to be said for the bravado of some of these choices. Casting Mary Ure and Robert Shaw opposite each other, when both have such similar features that they could be playing siblings, is probably not one of the creative choices worth defending.

The film is certainly long, primarily because of two extended sequences in the middle of the film that essentially have nothing to do with any of the action on either side of their appearance. In one such sequence, Robert Ryan shows up as a military deserter who just can't quite grasp that he's going to get executed for his crime, up until his last minute Joe Pesci in Goodfellas moment. Ryan's much looser than he usually got in this era, and it's a nice little cameo. The second arbitrary sequence involves an insane indian chase on a log flume that exists only to take advantage of the Cinerama format. Both of these sequences only add to the peculiarity of the picture. This is one of those strange beasts that's much more interesting from a construction standpoint than many so-called classics.

Valdez is Coming (Edwin Sherin 1971) They fucked with the wrong Mexican, &c. Burt Lancaster is a "tin star greaser" whose attempts to get the film's heavy to pay a princely sum of $100 to the indian widow of the black "deserter" he mistakenly murdered. The baddie refuses. The elderly Lancaster unpacks his guns and goes on a highly improbable revenge spree. Notable for the sequence in which Our Villain literally crucifies Lancaster, and not much else.

I'd been wondering where Sausage was hiding!

Given domino's preoccupation with sexual politics, which isn't always articulated, it's not really surprising that he/she responds to the western genre like oil into water. Female characters and female issues are marginalised in most westerns, even of the revisionist kind, and you just have to roll with that one, really, if you're going to get the most out of the genre. Having said this, I do find the capsules kind of interesting once you know where domino is coming from - eg. it was domino who helped me to appreciate Decision at Sundown.

Having said this, I completely disagree on Valdez is Coming! Lancaster's character seems to have wandered in from a Melville neo-noir and this makes for an interesting picture with a sparse, brutal atmosphere. The almost Antonioni-esque sequences in the fog in the final act are particularly striking, as is the unusual finale (which I won't give away). It was the scene where they expose the Mexican girl's breasts that offended you, right dom?

Har har har. I don't have much animosity towards Valdez is Coming, and it certainly falls in line with a lot of other revenge pics (hero suffers unbearable humiliations in first third --> avenges said humiliations for remaining running time --> final showdown results in unusual resolution), but I thought it had a particularly ugly mise-en-scene, so the comparison to Antonioni (I'm guessing you're thinking of the foggy Red Desert dock sequence?) is a little silly to my mind. As far as a preoccupation with sexual politics goes, I don't think I bring it to any film where it's not there (and most of my favorite westerns don't go anywhere near it), but it is obviously a topic of interest for me.

There's that too, but was thinking more of Indentification of a Woman. Of course Edwin Sherin is no Antonioni, but it is quite an unusual kind of sequence to find in a western and makes a nice break from cowboys galloping across the desert.

Devil’s Doorway

Well, Alton comes out of this looking good, but otherwise this seems to be clearly the weakest of Mann’s westerns – even the listless Cimarron sparks into life from time to time. Its good intentions never really rise about pious and patronising generalizations, and the lead performances are leaden. It seems like Mann is completely hamstrung by the self-importance of the material, and all he can do is make pretty pictures. When the actors shut up and the action begins, there are some spectacularly staged sequences, but that’s not enough to salvage the rest of the film.

Two Rode Together

An odd Ford western that I liked a lot. It might be the film closest to the concerns of The Searchers, though it’s completely different in tone, coasting to a large extent on the relaxed rapport between its lead actors. Now in a film like Devil’s Doorway, that strategy would be fatal, but when you’re talking about James Stewart and Richard Widmark you can just sit back and enjoy the show. So there’s a gentle comic thread running through the film (and a coarser one focussed on Andy Devine’s belly), but it’s interwoven with material as dark as the darkest parts of The Searchers. I suppose that suggests a crisis of tone, but it’s actually a messiness I find productive, and more honest than the simplified pieties of Devil’s Doorway.

zedz wrote:Devil’s Doorway It seems like Mann is completely hamstrung by the self-importance of the material, and all he can do is make pretty pictures.

Exactly

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (John Sturges 1957) / Hour of the Gun (John Sturges 1967) Sturges takes two stabs at the Earp/Holliday mythos with very little spillover. I kind of hoped this would prove to be a much more enlightening double-feature than it ended up. The first definitely shines brighter, if only for Burt Lancater and Kirk Douglas interacting with their typical "Awww helll" charisma. No such laidback luck in the followup of sorts, which puts James Garner and Jason Robards in the roles and ominously warns that the following film is based on fact. FACT: Earp and Holliday participated in dull courtroom drama. FACT: Earp then hunted down everyone. Ever. Forever. I'd love to pretend the monotony of the revenges was supposed to be clever commentary on the futility of vengeance, but I have to further my radical agenda of gimme a breaksville.

Will Penny (Tom Gries 1968) To echo my earlier comments on Ronald Reagan, Charleton Heston has the right kind of screen persona for westerns, but he's surely too young (or young-looking) to be playing "old" here. It wouldn't be a big deal if the plot didn't hinge on it, to the point that every once in a while a random character will have to bring it up just to remind the audience that he's old(er than he looks). When Ben Johnson showed up, I couldn't figure out why their roles weren't switched. Ah well. It's hard to justify Donald Pleasance's bizarre sacrilegious family of violent cretins, but they at the very least provide a contrast to the deep looks exchanged by Heston and the female lead (I assume this drawn-out relationship is why people go gaga for the film, but no thanks). For all the bluster of Pleasance and Bruce Dern, they both get outstaged by the peculiar mute sister(?) who wanders around their debauchery with an aimless winsome whimsy that is far more unsettling than any of the ridic shenanigans of those who talk.

Devil's Doorway may have some problems, but I this is much more than just a liberal western: Mann doesn't bother to comfort the audience with a harmonious liberal vision, and it's one of the few Indian Westerns which doesn't try to skirt around the genocide. If Broken Arrow continued it's narrative just a few years, we would see the pact quickly go down in flames, and the Apache's destroyed. High Noon may have a bleak view of the community, but it still believes that men of ideals can accomplish great things in the face of adversity. Not true here: the liberal conscience doesn't win out, we feel the desperation that accelerates both side of the conflict, and at the end as in history, we see the Shoshone's are nearly completely destroyed. "We're all gone". I think the film has a greater problem with bleakness than it does as a message film.

Garden of Evil (Henry Hathaway 1954) The wind-up to this one is so good that the lackluster pitch is all the worse for the anticipation. A great Bernard Herrmann score and another in a long line of wisecracking Widmark performances grace the film's opening, as does a genuinely interesting locale, a Mexican vista raked with cooled volcanic lava. So it's a shame when the epic trip to arrive at Susan Hayward's husband trapped in a mine doesn't go anywhere worthwhile, settling for melodramatic attempts at psychosexual interests. The film foolishly drops Widmark as the lead and turns its attention to Gary Cooper's drab stalwart as it winds on and on, and by the time this pic was over, I'd already forgotten how great it once promised to be.

Little Big Horn (Charles Marquis Warren 1951) I am loving these Lippert westerns that VCI's put out-- I'm tempted to pick up a bunch more, but Christ, I already have too too many titles already that I'll never get to in time. The film is a great bait-and-switch, as it's not the story of Custer at all, but one equally defeatist: John Ireland has just run off with Lloyd Bridges' wife, only to find himself saddled as the man's second-in-command on an emergency run to warn Custer about the indian dangers that await his cavalry at Little Big Horn. The film has a good efficiency of characters and plot, and the noir-style camera set-ups, framings, and long takes add to the overall effect of the picture-- I defy anyone to watch the amazing unbroken fistfight between Ireland and Bridges and tell me High Noon's fight sequence editing the following year didn't ruin cinema.

the Big Trail (Raoul Walsh 1930) The neat grandeur on display here proves more successful than what the early 'Scope flicks like the Robe, Three Coins in the Fountain, et al were attempting well over twenty years later. The film's lack of proper focal points in its compositions makes for an overwhelming depth of imagery-- one can talk of the forests and sandy vistas, but for me the most breathtaking sequences were those in the occasional wagon-camps, as rows of period detail-tuned set decor overpowers the narrative "center" of the image. The film oversells the western mythos via constructed imagery in an unmatched fashion. I liked the plot well-enough, but who cares, the story isn't the story at all here!

Three Violent People (Rudolph Mate 1956) Anne Baxter and Charlton Heston back together again, this time she's a former prostitute who tricks Heston's blustery ranching chauvinist into marrying her and then complication ensue, as they often do in such scenarios. Aside from an all-too-brief early appearance by Elaine Stritch as a madam, there's not much here to justify viewing, as government anger, carpetbagger bagging, and organized horse thievery water down what should have been a simple morality western.

domino harvey wrote:the Big Trail (Raoul Walsh 1930) The neat grandeur on display here proves more successful than what the early 'Scope flicks like the Robe, Three Coins in the Fountain, et al were attempting well over twenty years later. The film's lack of proper focal points in its compositions makes for an overwhelming depth of imagery-- one can talk of the forests and sandy vistas, but for me the most breathtaking sequences were those in the occasional wagon-camps, as rows of period detail-tuned set decor overpowers the narrative "center" of the image. The film oversells the western mythos via constructed imagery in an unmatched fashion. I liked the plot well-enough, but who cares, the story isn't the story at all here!

Well put. Walsh seems to have rethought his mise-en-scene from the ground up for the new process, and the result is an incredible depth and detail. I think that "lack of proper focal points" you identify is a key to what makes the film so visually remarkable: the backgrounds are so alive with deep-focus activity that it's hard not to give them 'excessive' weight. So, for example, when the characters are having a dialogue scene in the back of a covered wagon, you're likely to be goggling at the hundreds of extras and dozens of wagons casually visible miles away, which Walsh places there matter-of-factly rather than highlighting as desperate selling-point spectacle. If the central story were more compelling this might be a problem, but on the other hand it allows the film to come into its own as a fresco of a whole community, time and landscape. So for me it ends up as one of the best depictions of The West, at least as it's constructed in popular culture.

I thought I had Corbucci pegged after two movies, but The White, the Yellow, and the Black makes me question that I even saw it. The film starts out well and typical enough with a interesting little one man heist going on between the white and Eli Wallach's the black before quickly becoming something I never expected it to (though I should have guessed that westerns wouldn't be impervious to some of the more far out elements of Italian B pictures). Naturally what I 'm referring to is the yellow which doesn't refer to dress this time. The way this horrific caricature plays out is so shocking it quickly becomes hilarious and entertaining in it's own right. To clarify I was so captivated by it because it was so unexpected and plays out so bizarrely. It's never a hateful thing but that might make it worse as it's basically what you expect out of '70s yellow face.

I seriously want to know what was going through Corbucci's head at the time because nothing I've seen of him suggests that he would even want to make a light comedy western let alone one with such an awful premise. That it remains consistently entertaining and broadly good is a miracle, but I really need a second opinion to process this with (luckily after a quick google it seems there's been a reasonable amount written on the film).

An other thing that makes it really weird is that this is also so of the most poetic filming I've seen by Corbucci with a lot of inserts to the wilderness as if this was very very light Malick. This is some really amazing work on the technical level, but this content is everywhere and nowhere. It's a film that has to be seen to be believed.

Edit: Also has anyone seen a Mexican western by the name of The Strange Son of the Sheriff by Fernando Duran Rojas. Any of his western work would be cool, but I'm most heavily interested in that one.

NABOB OF NOWHERE wrote:Hold your horses you Western listers. Volume 5 treasures is dedicated to The West.

Holy smokes--this is like finding out that the 1930s had an extra year hidden in it. Extend your deadline, domino! (Or maybe start up musicals and briefly return to westerns in a few months?)

Looks amazing, but posters will just have to chime in with thoughts after-the-fact, as there's no way we can extend the deadline an additional three months for one set, nor should we. I mean, I guess it's open for discussion, but I can't imagine a compelling argument that would justify a 50% extension. People still weigh-in in the Noir thread months later, surely they can do the same for Westerns

I guess the most compelling reason to extend it is that this isn't just a matter of the quantity of new westerns becoming available but, judging from the descriptions, an opportunity to broaden perspectives of what westerns are, what they typically include and exclude, and how conventions were shaped in the four decades before Stagecoach. I say this as someone excited for both this box set and the final western list (hoping for some interesting results), but I certainly understand not wanting to extend the deadline that far. Beyond the end of September, when the set is released, it would probably take at least a couple weeks for people to get the set and digest the ten hours of content.

Realistically, for any of these lists there are always a number of imminent releases just beyond the deadline (and many more films that remain unreleased), with the thought being that they'll get picked up the next go round (at which time there will inevitably be something else just beyond the deadline). Is the Western list something that will be repeated in another five years or so though, or will there always be another genre or subgenre to explore that prevents much revisiting? One possibility would be to go on with the deadline as scheduled (June 20th) and then toward the end of the year have a month or so long "addendum" where discussion is resumed, and at the end of the month, anyone who wants can submit revised lists. This could run concurrent with the musicals list.

It defeats the purpose of a list at all if we're going to keep updating or extending it with every arbitrary release or discovery. Let each list stand and reevaluate the results after-the-fact, like every other list. I strongly vote no against any organized addendum (and indeed the very idea has done good work of zapping the fun out of the project even just thinking about it), but let me be clear that I'll do whatever the actual participants of the genre lists decide

I'm with you Dom, there will be new discoveries every day and extending the list will do nothing but delay the inevitable. After all no one here has seen everything that's already out let alone what will. If you really want one of the westerns from these American Treasures discs just rewatch The Invaders. If this does goes circular like the decades project than we can deal with this box than (or discuss it here or in the westerns thread). An extension just seems unhelpful.

I was just trying to say that I would agree it's generally unwise to extend deadlines, but if there were ever going to be an exception, this would be the time to do it--40 unknown films from an era largely unrepresented before, lovingly presented as part of a series with a sterling reputation. However, I certainly did not mean to zap the fun out of anything (though if talking about lists and deadlines isn't fun, I don't know what is) and will leave it to others to speak any further on the subject.

If we had to do something like this, I'd rather it be a lengthy extension rather than an addendum, but I also think the project turns into farce when three plus months gets tacked on to the end. But a revisitation addendum is just the worst idea I've ever heard, not to mention a total headache on my end, and also will encourage a lot of wishy-washy second guessing and changes from submitters once they see what does and does not make the list the first go around, and thus will no longer be a gauge of taste but conformity.

I guess my feeling on a basic level is that I'm working my ass off to see as many westerns as possible in the next twenty days, and that rush and knowledge that I won't see everything is part of the fun, but add another three months solely to hang hopes upon unseen films that could have no real effect on the overall tally and what's the point of it all?

Given how we are less than 20 days away from the deadline I figured I should give a shoutout to certain favorites of mine that will be making my list that might have otherwise been forgotten. with that big statement said I'm going to try to watch a new western a day (that is if I can rent ten pictures seeing how I only have nine in my kevyip) for this final stretch so it's not too unlikely that some of these lower tiers will actually wind up off of my list.

Black God, White Devil
I know Zedz has my back on this very peculiar south American western, but it seems no one else has given it a good look. For all of it's politics and deliberately distancing techniques it manages to be such a fun watch with bizarre montages and a story that follows it's own logic, but makes perfect sense within. It's the western under a fantasy tableaux and all the more exciting for it. For it's use of the tropes, the odd application of anti-colonial politics, and because it's just a plain great film this is within a whisker of my number one spot

Taza, Son of Cochise
Another one where I know at somebody else has my back, but I want to highlight it all the same. Who would have thought that after two turgid Cochise films it would be a throwaway Sirk oddity that would manage to capture everything those films so desperately wanted to be. Rock Hudson is his usual great self and even without the politics this film is so familiarly structured within it's unique setting that it's easy to just lap it up as pure entertainment. Hell in that regard it's a bit of a distant cousin to The Westerner in how by all appearances it's what the public conscious thinks of a western even when deep down it manages to be a few things more.

Dead Man, Meek's Cutoff, True Grit (2010)
Just a friendly reminder that we've had westerns in recent years too. I doubt the middle title will make it just for a lack of availability, but it deserves every vote it gets.

The Invaders (1912, Ford and Ince)
On the other hand here is a western as old as dirt that manages to be one of the first traditionally structured western even as it throws the conventions of it's day in the trash. Liberal westerns have gotten (often times rightly so) a horrendous rap here, but this film is one of the biggest exceptions to all of that. Part of it I'm sure is the length, but the absolute empathy of the camera helps out even more. If there is one pre-Stagecoach western that absolutely must make the list it's this obscurity.

Whity
Jesus christ, my list is winding up being the anti-thesis to Domino's statement, but much like with Sirk it's almost a given that Fassbinder would do great in this goal. It helps that he only really uses the setting of a western and doesn't fully engage with the structure instead relying on domestic tales for his story inspiration. If nothing else this is one of Fassbinder's most chilling tales which I hope communicates enough to get those interested that haven't dipped yet.

The Shootist and The Beguiled
I really can't do a list for a masculine genre without a few Siegel's and these are two of the very best he did regardless of genre. The former was really the first time I ever saw John wayne act and it blew me off the couch (the other big example of this will also naturally be making my list) and really one of the best of the revisionist westerns at least in part because of how it keeps the heart of the '50s westerns while admitting to the blown smoke. The second is an entirely different, but equally as great story with the one really great Eastwood performance as an occasionally sympathetic satan caught in his own personal hell.

The Wind
I'm not sure how much of a western this is, but it's close enough to make my list. I hope I don't need to explain why it's a great film though.

knives wrote:Given how we are less than 20 days away from the deadline I figured I should give a shoutout to certain favorites of mine that will be making my list that might have otherwise been forgotten. with that big statement said I'm going to try to watch a new western a day (that is if I can rent ten pictures seeing how I only have nine in my kevyip) for this final stretch so it's not too unlikely that some of these lower tiers will actually wind up off of my list.

Black God, White Devil
I know Zedz has my back on this very peculiar south American western, but it seems no one else has given it a good look. For all of it's politics and deliberately distancing techniques it manages to be such a fun watch with bizarre montages and a story that follows it's own logic, but makes perfect sense within. It's the western under a fantasy tableaux and all the more exciting for it. For it's use of the tropes, the odd application of anti-colonial politics, and because it's just a plain great film this is within a whisker of my number one spot


The Shootist and The Beguiled
I really can't do a list for a masculine genre without a few Siegel's and these are two of the very best he did regardless of genre. The former was really the first time I ever saw John wayne act and it blew me off the couch (the other big example of this will also naturally be making my list) and really one of the best of the revisionist westerns at least in part because of how it keeps the heart of the '50s westerns while admitting to the blown smoke. The second is an entirely different, but equally as great story with the one really great Eastwood performance as an occasionally sympathetic satan caught in his own personal hell.

not forgetting 'Antonio Das Mortes' from Glauber Rocha, and the Budd Boetticher-scripted 'Two Mules for Sister Sara' from Siegel

I'm not sure how I feel about Antonio Das Mortes being a western, though a good argument is all I need for an other Rocha on my list. As for a third Seigel, not only do I think that's pushing my luck, but as far as quality is concerned it's just barely off my list. Not later than 60 really, but not good enough for fifty. Might swap it with Unforgiven though.

Vera Cruz (Robert Aldrich 1954) So Gary Cooper basically said, "I'll be in Mexico all year if you need me" post-second Oscar, huh? Cooper and Burt Lancaster have great chemistry together, and their silly friendship in the film is quite charming. Beyond the central performances, this fluffy parade of nonsense driven by escalating allegiances finds Aldrich in full-on weird mode, to great effect. As far as the plot goes, by the sixth or seventh plot twist, I gave up caring and just enjoyed the aesthetic assault of erratic editing choices, canted angles, and bizarre framings that mark Aldrich's most playful films. As tightly-packed entertainment, the film works well-enough to contend for the final list thanks to its intuitive, flippantly brilliant fashion of indifference.

Rio Grande (John Ford 1950) I generally cannot stand the loose approach Ford takes with the other Cavalry films in the "trilogy" and Wagon Master (especially Fort Apache, which save the ending is unwatchable), but I was absolutely delighted with this one. It's a crystallization of what Ford had been attempting in this era of his career, and for once his family reunion of onscreen friends goofing off with the whispiest of plots works. From the delight of the horse riding to the beauty of the musical sequences (which are so good that they make me long for a proper musical from Ford), this is a laid-back collection of loosely-connected bits that finally produces the genial effect Ford had been striving at.

Rimfire (B Reeves Eason 1949) Well, third time was not the charm for Lippert, but even though this is a dopey revenge b-western (with one of the biggest misdirection howlers I've ever seen), I can't say I was bored. I can't say I was impressed with anything either, but so it goes.

the Kentuckian (Burt Lancaster 1955) Not sure what drew Lancaster to the material, but Lancaster generally needs a steady-hand behind the camera to stop him from delving into hamminess, and the lack of one here leads to a fair-share of groaners-- his ill-advised foray into jubilant song around a piano comes to mind. But the film is far from a disaster almost in spite of its parts (including a baboon-faced tyke and backwoods rednecks right out of a Li'l Abner), mostly thanks to Walter Matthau and John Carradine as a whip-cracking villain and snake oil salesman, respectively. This was Matthau's debut, and he makes quite an entrance, whipping the flames off candles while Lancaster's manchild frontiersman looks on agog. There's also something to be said for any film from this era where the whore beats out the schoolteacher!

Rawhide (Henry Hathaway 1950) A lovely little hostage number that never dwells on the perversity of its plot mechanics so as to not crumble its fragile but vital sense of play. This is a movie which climaxes with a baddie taking shots at a baby, a jaw-droppingly tasteless sequence that elicits more of a "tsk tsk" reaction that a more mean-spirited film would not have afforded. Kudos to the cinematographer for over-exaggerating Jack Elam's already grotesque appearance in his framings, including one hilarious unbroken shot early in the film-- you'll know it when you see it.

the Quick and the Dead (Sam Raimi 1995) I'm stunned at the lukewarm at best reaction to this one critically and in the film community, as it is by far the best modern western I've seen yet and will be placing very high indeed. I am no Raimi disciple, but his kinetic obsession with movement is so perfectly suited for this genre, especially a crackerjack gunfighting plot like this, that it's too bad the film tanked, as his Fuller slash Tashlin approach to the goings-on is energetic and vibrant with all the possibilities of the format. The film understands something very basic about Hollywood westerns, something that I think escapes many serious studies of the genre, which is that many of the best westerns were wholly unconcerned with the trappings of myth-making and merely used the genre's accoutrements to dress up a compelling idea in its own right. There's a deep understanding of how westerns operate, but no fanboy fawning, which elevates the proceedings from homage to worthy successor.

Appaloosa (Ed Harris 2008) Whereas here's the flipside to the overly-reverent modern western coin. Harris clearly loves westerns, but that fondness has caused him to produce a film that, while admirably not a revisionist mess, is merely a mediocre western, one which with few changes could have been directed by Henry Hathaway fifty years prior. Even this I don't necessarily object to out of hand, but Harris has rendered his western toothless by refusing to engage the interesting psychosexual aspects of his material, leaving both Zellweger's shifting sexual allegiances and, most damning of all, the clear yet unexplored homosexual subtext to the Harris and Viggo Mortensen's partnership underdeveloped. The film even goes as far as to put Mortensen in bed with a prostitute (one who only ever talks about Harris' character, so I can see the attraction!) so that Harris can underline "DO NOT READ THAT INTO THESE TWO." But why is Harris so overprotective of what anyone could see is there, no matter how much the quadruple threat at the helm tries to distract? It's 2008, dude.

Copper Canyon (John Farrow 1950) A fun premise derailed by a generally disinterested filmmaker and crew. No one involved seems to be doing anything but collecting a paycheck, but there's a certain wry charm to this post-Civil War programmer, as Ray Milland's trickshot vaudeville performer finds himself railroaded into a tricky economic showdown between rival miners. The film at times teeters on the edge of a mistaken identity thriller, as everyone is convinced that Milland is a much-desired former Confederacy officer except Milland himself. But alas, the film squanders what could have been a rare decent foray into such films, since ***SPOILER ALERT*** he is that guy everyone thinks he is.

Hangman's Knot (Roy Huggins 1952) Another entry in the Civil War westerns which place either side of the conflict as equally worthy in the face of allegiance-free profiteering. Randolph Scott does his nth noble act as a Confederacy leader who learns too late that the war is over and must wrestle with what to do with the gold his boys stole from the North. Donna Reed Stockholm syndromes Scott to much dubious effect. Another decent cookie western, no more no less.

Major Dundee (Sam Peckinpah 1965) More like minor Dundee, amirite. Richard Harris does his best vamping through this often incomprehensible mess, but he can hardly save the day against these insurmountable odds. I know the film was butchered and is presented in a sort of Scotch-taped composition here, but I'm not sure it was ever much of a production to begin with. Heston does his best impression of a constipated owl.

I have to agree about Major Dundee... for all the accusations of studio tampering, it's clear that Peckinpah did not know what he wanted to do with the film. And there's the material there for several great films, which only occasionally peek through the surface: a Western Moby Dick (the obvious starting point); a sort of Red River/Heart of Darkness, with Heston's slow ascension into a Kurtzian despot; there's even a hint of the Beckettian in all this tedium and frustration, a sort of Waiting for Charriba, if you will. But none of that sticks together.

Also, take a look at that final battle. It's silly. It's done largely in conventional film language, yet Peckinpah seems unable to use that language. He seems to be straining against it, unable to make it work the way he wants it to. It's almost as if he was in desperate need of the editing experimentation of The Wild Bunch, but just wasn't quite able to get there (and this is of course assuming that the ending was really "his" work). In fact, that's the main interest for Major Dundee: without it, I really don't think Peckinpah could have made The Wild Bunch. But these people who tout it as a "butchered masterpiece" aren't fooling anyone.

Yeah, the schizophrenia of the film is not worn well. I thought the most bizarre sequence was the Warren Oates "trial," where Harris throws a tanty because Heston says he's going to kill a deserter. The film presents this in a way sympathetic to Harris and against Heston, but why? Deserters in war get shot, that's not monstrous or outrageous (and in fact, Heston warned his charges of this earlier), so why in the world does Peckinpah position Heston in the wrong here? And the sure-fire money scene against Heston, where his lust for the vivacious widow leads him to be ambushed, is mis/underplayed-- are we supposed to sympathize with his mistake? Be embarrassed for him? Damn him? Forgive him? The film has no idea.

Cold Bishop wrote:take a look at that final battle. It's silly. It's done largely in conventional film language, yet Peckinpah seems unable to use that language.

Um, Peckinpah didn't shoot or edit this scene. His slow-motion footage was discarded by the studio in favour of second unit coverage. And it IS a butchered masterpiece. Western Moby Dick meets Hearts of Darkness meets Beckett - all of these things ARE present, albeit it doesn't ultimately all come together in a satisfying way in the film's final butchered form.

domino wrote:the sure-fire money scene against Heston, where his lust for the vivacious widow leads him to be ambushed, is mis/underplayed-- are we supposed to sympathize with his mistake? Be embarrassed for him? Damn him? Forgive him? The film has no idea.

Oh dear, ambiguity, run away...