The Last Movie I Saw

I drove up to Bozeman yesterday to do a little Christmas shopping, and while there took the opportunity to catch the film Appaloosa, directed by and starring Ed Harris, along with Viggo Mortenson, Renee Zellweger, and Jeremy Irons. Here are a few comments about it:

1. One of the things that I've come to notice about westerns (especially) since I moved to the West, is that they often revolve around a perception of westerners as cowards. This isn't anything new-- you see it as much in the films of the forties and fifties as in the more revisionist recent movies. Of course, I'm not talking about the cowardice of the heroes , but of the citizens of the towns that the heroes are compelled, for one reason or another, to rescue. In Appaloosa, lawman Virgil Goode (Harris) and his deputy Everett Hitch (Mortenson) are handed almost carte blanch authority by the town's aldermen because they (the aldermen) are cowering in fear of the powerful landowner who pushes them around (played by Jeremy Irons). Think about it for a moment-- this happens all the time in Westerns-- the average people are portrayed as dependent children. That is so at odds with the way that westerners think of themselves, since they mostly identify with the likes of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood, but in the mythology, those type of heroes are the exception and not the rule. This actually conforms to the truth of the matter explained by Patricia Limerick in her classic study of Western history, Legacy of Conquest, where she demonstrates that the majority of westerners were not so much rugged individuals who pulled themselves up by dint of their own courage and ability, but largely dependent on the protections offered them by government handouts (like the Homestead Act) or a willingness to turn control of their communities over to strongmen little different from the tinpot dictators we associate with third world countries. Interesting to think that, although this is rarely the main theme in western films, it is such a pervasive element in many (My Darling Clementine, High Noon, High Plains Drifter, etc., etc.).

2. The last western I went to see in the theater was the remake of 3:10 to Yuma directed by James Mangold and starring Russell Crowe and Christian Bale. That movie got a lot more attention than Appaloosa, but it is a considerably inferior film in many ways, despite its arguably higher star power. I remember thinking when I saw Yuma that it had all the characteristics of the run-of-the-mill modernistic action film, with explosions and quick-cutting that falsely heightened tension not through narrative drama, but by creating phony confusion through editing. Frankly, I considered it a piece of hackwork, though the performances were strong. Appaloosa, as directed by Harris (whose only previous directorial effort, I believe, was the bio-pic Pollack), is much more stately, allowing the camera to linger over the landscapes, allowing actors to appear in shots together to emphasize how well they play off one-another, and employing a number of character point-of-view shots that neatly embellish the dynamics of their relationships to one another. I wouldn't argue that every set-up is perfect, but it's clear that Harris is willing to use the camera in support of his actors and story, and not as an alternative force to unilaterally manipulate the audience's reactions.

3. Fifty years ago, westerns were all over the movie and television screens of the country, and most hewed pretty closely to the tried and true formulas and styles long associated with the genre. Since about 1980, after westerns had declined in popularity, most that have appeared have been squarely in the revisionist camp, deliberately seeking to undermine in one way or another the standard tropes of the classical westerns. Many have been quite good (like Eastwood's Unforgiven, or even the less ambitious Tombstone). Appaloosa strikes me as much more in the classic vein. In some ways it's similar to the recent Open Range, especially in the relationship drawn between the two men at the center of the story. But it seems to shy away from many of the characteristics of the typical revisionist western, not the least in it's portrayal of violence. While there is a considerable amount of gunplay, it is not accompanied by buckets of blood, or gruesome depictions of wounds. That's kind of refreshing (and just to be clear: I like a lot of the revisionist westerns, too-- but it's nice to see something with a slightly different agenda).

4. The cast of this film is peopled largely by familiar faces that have made their fame in genres other than westerns. Harris has done work in westerns before (anyone remember Walker, one of the most perverse (not in a sexual way) of revisionist westerns?), but I was struck at how well Mortenson, and especially Jeremy Irons fit into this milieu. The big surprise was seeing Timothy Spall as one of the aldermen (and the main source of comic relief in the film). In some ways his appearance was as surprising, and welcome, as John Cleese's in Silverado. The only main performer who kind of left me flat was Renee Zellweger, who I used to like a lot, but more recently seems to be phoning in her parts (probably unfair, but for me, she just doesn't seem to exhibit the flair I saw earlier in her career).

So overall, I thought it was a good, entertaining movie. But if you don't like westerns-- no reason to think this is the one that will win you over.