Reviewed
by Lamar Kukuk
11/1/08
There
are several genres that seem to lock a storyteller into a finite number
of possible stories. Right up there with police thrillers among the
most limiting is the Western. Cowboys, Indians, corrupt ranchers,
faithful sheriffs, vengeful gunmen, damsels in distress... the key to a
successful Western isn't re-inventing the wheel: that's pretty much
impossible. It's arranging those pieces in just the right order to
serve as a platform for memorable characters. Appaloosa, the
new Ed Harris labor of love based on a novel by Robert B. Parker, does
something even more interesting. While its' characters do indeed
occupy a familiar Western setting and face the elements of a familiar Western
plot, they crackle with life that they seem to be free of it, able to make
decisions and dodge some (although not all) of the pitfalls cliché
often turns into destiny. So, while I've seen more than my share
of lawman vs. Rancher Who Believes He's Above the Law stories, I'd never
seen one quite like Appaloosa.
Virgil
Cole (Ed Harris) and Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen) are traveling lawmen
with a simple business plan. If your town's in trouble, hire them
to become The Law, sign over basically all legal authority to them, and
once they've cleaned things up, it's on to the next job. Appaloosa,
New Mexico has such a problem: Rancher Randall Brag (Jeremy Irons),
a reputed crony of President Chester A. Arthur, has murdered the Sheriff,
and now there's no one to stand against him and his goons. The local
government hires Virgil and Everett and runs for cover. But the struggle
between Virgil and Brag is only just beginning when a new player arrives
on the scene: widow Allison French (Renee Zellweger) is the kind
of woman rarely seen West of the Mississippi: smart, refined, a real
lady. And from the moment she hits town, she zeros in on Virgil.
He returns her affections and before you know it, he's building a house
and planning to put down roots. But there's still that matter of
Brag: when one of his men (Gabriel Marantz) testifies against him,
the rancher is sentenced to hang. But to carry out that sentence,
Virgil and Everett have to get him past Indians, hired gun Ring Shelton
(Lance Hendrickson) and the kind of power and influence that allows men
like Brag to come out on top no matter what decade it is. The kind
of power and influence that might turn a girl's head... .
While
Brag is an admirably showy villain (Irons can always be counted on to chew
just the right amount of scenery), what makes Appaloosa sing is
the dynamic between its' three main characters. Virgil and Everett
have one of those classic Western friendships Larry McMurtry has spent
so much of his career writing about (in this case, the movie is based on
a novel by Robert B. Parker): their casual “I'm not afraid of dyin'”
manliness on a perfectly shared pitch. They're totally casual around
each other even though neither man seems to have a casual bone in his body.
And their loyalty is totally unshakable, even when the plot presents Everett
with several choices which would inspire 99.9% of all movie characters
ever to screw their friends over. A clear chain of command helps,
since there's never any doubt that Virgil's in charge, and even to the
end, Everett makes his choices based on what's best for his friend.
Mortensen and Harris OWN these roles, and seem very much like men of the
period rather than simply movie cowboys. Zellweger gets a great role
that allows her to balance totally unsympathetic personality traits (to
say Allison is always on the prowl is the understatement of the 19th Century)
with a realistic feel for just how vulnerable a woman like her would have
been in the Old West. She's always had the gift of being able to
seem like she belongs in any time period, and this one is no exception.
The
dynamic between the three characters is fascinating. Allison has
no trouble at all with Everett being the third wheel, in fact, she'd prefer
that he spun with her a little more than he's willing to. But neither
man has any illusions about the situation: Virgil is a powerful man,
and Allison will stay with him until someone more powerful comes along.
The frankness with which both he and Everett discuss and approach the situation
is fairly unique among just about every movie character I can think of.
Have we ever seen this sort of plot run without jealousy and lust turning
the friends into enemies? A character like Allison so laid bare both
in her mercenary tendencies and the desperation behind them that she's
both sympathetic and charming? Certainly I can't remember another
set of characters like them, and to have them at the center of what's ostensibly
a shoot-em-up genre piece is all the more interesting.
But
an uncommon level of self-awareness only helps them so much against the
machinations of a world that's turning from the power of The Gun to the
power of The Man, and the conflict between the gunslingers and the Old
West Donald Trump against whom they're matched more than compensates for
any missing melodrama. Because the Western archetypes have always
represented a mythical American ideal, the genre has become something of
a barometer of how we're failing to live up to that ideal at any given
time. Here, we've got the story of decent people who think they've
got a system in place to deal with a man like Bragg who finally learn that
they don't: I think we all struggle to hang onto some sense that
there aren't people who can do whatever they want just because they know
the right people, but as long as the President retains his power to pardon,
the opposite truth is built right into our Constitution. But, of
course, this IS a Western, and as such the characters, no matter who they
are, retain the right to settle things in the manliest and most American
of cinematic ways: with their guns.
Ed
Harris directed, co-wrote, stars, and even co-wrote and sings the song
that plays over Appaloosa's end credits: this project clearly
meant a lot to him. And he's to be credited for the high caliber
of the performances and the strong, lived-in evocation of an American West
that's in no way just a soundstage upon which to play Cowboys & Indians.
Dean Semler's cinematography and Jeff Beal's score both do a fine job contributing
to the mood. If there's a knock on Appaloosa (and there must
be, because I held back a half-star, right?) it's that the movie's loving,
lived-in Western world does tend to move a bit slowly, and the pace, particularly
in the early scenes, drags.
As
I said previously in a different review, this is a good time for Westerns
simply because they're so hard to get made that only the good ones tend
to reach the screen. Appaloosa is a good one: fans of
the genre will delight in its' wonderfully rendered macho stoicism while
non-converts can enjoy a strong, understated character study regardless
of the era in which it's set. Earlier this year, Parker published
an Appaloosa sequel called Resolution, and I'd certainly
welcome another chance to share time with these characters who're both
so perfectly predictable and unpredictable. Ed Harris can even sing
again if he wants. |
