Westerns, which aren’t as popular as they once were, come in two basic kinds: Those that attempt to use the form to elevate historical understanding or create mythic figures, to achieve narrative scope and resonance beyond the bare bones of the telling; and those that tell an action story about good guys vs. bad guys, and thereby to entertain or divert attentions from the trials and tribulations of the day.
Two Westerns of the first type would be “Wild Bunch” and “The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford.” Pike Bishop and his gang got stranded on the saddleback of the history. On one side the 19th century was slipping away from them, removing the terra firma they had stood on for many years, while on the other side, the 20th century, with all its motor cars, machine guns, airplanes, petty tyrants, and revolutions, came rushing in and they were forced to deal with a new context, one they did not take to or want to be part of. So they decided to go out in a blaze of gunfire, taking with them the petty tyrant, his men, and the German Officers who pointed to an even more dreadful future. Jesse James illustrates the power of legend over fact. John Ford was fond of saying; if it came to a choice between fact and legend, always choose the legend. He knew that legend had more appeal and more legs than simple fact. Jesse James killed 16 men, but the family made money after he was dead collecting fees from the mass of admires who wanted to stand by his grave for a minute or two. Having an actor like Brad Pitt play Jesse just expanded the heroic dimensions of the outlaw. The role followed his turn as Achilles in “Troy.” His persona seems carved for such roles.
Two Westerns of the second type, to use current examples, would be “3:10 to Yuma” and the newly released “Appoloosa.” They are like resurgent B-movies of decades past, but with characters updated, mostly in evil and nastiness, and with slicker production values. They are movies designed to thrill, entertain and distract. They have, as it were, a lower horizon of intent and meaning. Mind you, they are good as far as they go. I think Ed Harris, the director of “Appoloosa,” understood that from the outset.
I am a sucker for Westerns of either kind. I like the idea of a world apart, participating in time but yet at a remove from time, a world with its own rules of engagement and standards of behavior, which put a premium on individual courage and skill. There were small frontier towns in the 1880s with odd names like Appoloosa or Big Whiskey, with saloons with paintings of naked ladies over the bar, with a few more ladies upstairs to satisfy the customers, with some fine ladies too, and a schoolmarm, who falls for the handsome gunmen. And of course you have the shoot-outs, the stable set piece of Westerns. “Appoloosa” is essentially a buddy movie in Western dress. Virgil Cole (Ed Harris) and Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen) have been together for a dozen years. They are almost like a married couple, with Virgil being the leader but Hitch being smarter and always helping Vigil out when he’s stumped on how to pronounce a big word like “sequestered.” There’s good deal of sly, understated humor in their relationship, which is one of the more likeable things about the movie. They have come to this small Western town in New Mexico to do something about Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons, minus his accent), a culprit who single-handedly shot the Marshall and his two deputies and whose men do whatever they want in Appoloosa with impunity. The gang he’s assembled look like tramps with six-guns; they all need a shave, a bath and clean clothes. The City Fathers have called in Cole and Hitch to rid them of this contagion. The pair dispense with 4 of the gang straight away with a shoot-out in the saloon, which arouses the ire of Bragg. Their authority to kill these men and to go after Bragg comes from a document the City Fathers have signed giving the pair the complete authority of law. That’s how they operate, as independent and freelance gunmen with a license to kill. They spend quite a bit of the movie chasing Bragg, who is a slippery devil, and even Chester Arthur, the President of the United States comes into play, helping him escape their clutches. But he gets his just desserts in the end.
Now there is a lady in this story, Ally French (Renee Zellweger) whose motto is “Love the one your with.” She is somewhere between and whore and a fine lady, as she dresses nicely, plays the piano, and, as Virgil says, “she’s very clean.” She ensnares Virgil, who is a bit green behind the ears when it comes to designing women, and before you know it he’s building a house for the two of them and thinking about settling down. Hitch knows better because the lady has made a play for him too. Later in the film we see her naked in a stream with another gunslinger who supposedly had kidnapped her. Hitch points out this romp to Virgil and it makes him swallow hard. He’s been a fool but he remains taken with her. On the other hand, Ally give an explanation for her loose behavior that I thought was very good, in that it explains the constraints of a single woman in the old West. She says she does what does because she’s alone, she’s afraid, and she has no money and no real way to make any. Does a woman on her own have much choice? That could unhinge many a soul. Perhaps that’s why Virgil cuts her some slack and ends up at her side at the end of the movie.
“Appoloosa” was Harris first film to direct since ‘Pollock.” I liked the character-driven plot and the relationship between Cole and Hitch but some of spaces between action sequences are pretty slow-paced and drag the energy of the film down. I wanted to pump some vitality into those sections. The gunplay is minimal and quick, but then it was often like that in the Old West. After all, the gunfight at the OK Corral was over with in less than a minute. So Harris took his time in between all those flying bullets.
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