Version Variations: The Magnificent Seven (1960, 2016)

Tags

Action, Classics, Drama, Thriller, Version Variations, Western

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem dedicated to some other form of art, so I opted for the film Seven Samurai and its many incarnations.)

In the land of Japan, after warring was done,
An epic and classic of film was begun
By one Kurosawa, director renowned,
Who left cinematic impressions profound.

This film Seven Samurai dazzled the critics
(And still holds a high spot in film analytics)
So Hollywood said, after only six years,
“We’ll do that in English for our Western ears.

“And speaking of western, we’ll re-set the plot
With cowboys and Mexicans. Now that’s a thought!”
So that’s what they did, and it turned out a winner
With quite the ensemble headlined by Yul Brynner.

They didn’t stop there; three more sequels ensued,
But even those westerns were just a prelude.
A Corman sci-fi set the story in space,
Hong Kong made a version with China the place,

And Italy even confused the translators
By making the samurai brave gladiators.
A Bug’s Life was Pixar’s cartoonish conversion,
Then back to Japan for an anime version.

And Hollywood remade the remake it made,
The most recent role that this formula’s played.
Imitation is flattery’s form at its highest,
But would Kurosawa, I wonder, be biased?
_________________________

MPAA rating for the 1960 version:  Approved (basically PG)
MPAA rating for the 2016 version:  PG-13 (pretty strong on the violence)

I haven’t done one of these Version Variation posts in a while, mainly because I haven’t watched an abundance of remakes lately. Yet I stumbled upon the 2016 remake of The Magnificent Seven, and finding it to be an above average western, had to see how it compared to the more celebrated original (not to mention how it compared to the original original, 1954’s Seven Samurai).

Of course, Akira Kurosawa started it all with Seven Samurai, the tale of seven disparate but skilled misfits recruited by desperate villagers to fend off invading bandits. The Magnificent Seven is very much the same tale, simply transplanted from feudal Japan to the mythic American West. Certain scenes and plot elements are common to every version, such as the duel that introduces the most deadly of the bunch or the number of the seven who are killed by the end (though which characters die seems to differ).

All three also feature extremely talented ensembles, led by an established movie star. In the case of The Magnificent Seven, that would be Yul Brynner (1960) and Denzel Washington (2016), both dressed all in black and oozing enough self-confidence to recruit six others with minimal effort. Watching the different versions, it was interesting to pick out the parallels between the other characters. Horst Buchholz (who went on to appear in Life Is Beautiful) plays a scrappy upstart in the 1960 version, clearly modeled after Toshiro Mifune in Seven Samurai, but there’s not really an equivalent character in the 2016 film. As the second recruit, Chris Pratt seems comparable to Steve McQueen’s drifter, while James Coburn’s knife-thrower is unmistakably akin to Lee Byung-hun in the remake. Other comparisons are a little harder, such as Ethan Hawke’s war-haunted Cajun in the remake having elements of both Robert Vaughn and Brad Dexter’s characters in the original.

One thing that is self-evident about the 2016 remake is its effort to be more inclusive in its representation. While all of the original seven were white, the new seven include three whites, one black, one Mexican, one Native American, and one South Korean (who I guess is supposed to represent the Chinese? I didn’t know there were Korean immigrants in the Old West).  Another difference is that the characters in the remake are given far more colorful names; after all, aren’t “Goodnight” Robicheaux and Billy Rocks cooler sobriquets than Britt or Chris or Lee?

While it makes the character comparisons a little harder, the racial changes aren’t unwelcome and don’t make much difference storywise, aside from a clash between the Native American member of the Seven (Martin Sensmeier) and his counterpart on the bad guy’s side (Jonathan Joss, who surprisingly also played Chief Hotate on Parks and Recreation). Speaking of bad guys, that’s another major change; whereas the original’s Eli Wallach played the leader of a Mexican outlaw band, the remake’s Peter Sarsgaard plays a ruthless businessman aiming to buy out the townsfolk for the nearby gold mine (which is notably not in the original, much to Brad Dexter’s chagrin).

Perhaps it might have been different if I had watched the 1960 version first, as most cinephiles did, but I think I actually prefer the 2016 version. The 1960 film is a classic, no doubt about that, with Yul Brynner’s man in black standing up as one of the quintessential western heroes. Yet even though that film has its fair share of gunfights, the 2016 film plays out much more like an action movie, tossing out the love subplot and apparent defeat of the original in favor of bigger and more explosive battles. The body count is higher, but the thrills don’t disappoint, in contrast to the original film’s excessive length and occasional boring parts.

That being said, cheating though it may be, I don’t have any problem grouping the two together for ranking purposes, or even grouping both with Seven Samurai. Seven Samurai may be the most artistic and the 2016 film the most entertaining, but all three are worthwhile. (I’ll draw the line, though, at grouping them with A Bug’s Life, which is also basically the same story. I did like how Charles Bronson’s bond with some local kids was recycled for Francis the lady bug in Pixar’s film.) Many may scoff at the mere idea of remakes, often rightfully, but, like A Star Is Born, this is one story that has endured the test of time and excelled in multiple incarnations.

Best line from the 1960 version: (Vin/Steve McQueen) “It’s like a fellow I once knew in El Paso. One day, he just took all his clothes off and jumped in a mess of cactus. I asked him that same question, ‘Why?’”   (Calvera/bad guy) “And?”   (Vin) “He said, ‘It seemed to be a good idea at the time.’”

Best line from the 2016 version: (Sam Chisholm/Denzel Washington) “What we lost in the fire, we’ll find in the ashes.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (both grouped with Seven Samurai)

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting

 

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

Tags

Drama, Western

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for an abecedarian poem, where each line starts with a different letter of the alphabet. I took it one step further and increased the number of syllables with each successive line; the first as one syllable, and the last has twenty-six. I wish I could have made it rhyme more, but it was a fun exercise.)

A
Better
Case of cruel
Death and dream-fueled
Effort you’ll rarely
Find than the flourishing,
God-led western growth from miles
Hence to the hard-fought backyards of
Impatient, heedless Americans.
Joy at the progress through storm and disease;
Key victories that confirmed our destinies
Like blood-sprayed signs pointing home that we only would
Make the effort to clean off once we had arrived there;
New frontiers made bitter with tears as roads were paved with loss;
Once-famed pathfinders and desperadoes yielding their roles to
Pioneers that now populate our history books or else lived
Quietly, blazed their trails, and fed the good earth in anonymity;
Royals and natives losing what they believed was theirs forevermore; and
Stubborn, sweet, semi-sane civilians of fortune and sacrificial service ―
These all made the struggle west what it was and the world what it would one day become.
Underneath the present-day complaints of destructive white expansion or the rosy
Visions of mythical men taming the wild as few Americans today ever could,
We must acknowledge that they were as human as we, as prone to sin and improbable grace,
Experiencing a world unknown, a battle against oceans, forests, mountains, prairies, and selves.
You may judge them as you may someday be judged; they lived for themselves, not for history books or for the
Zealous people who write them. Legends and monsters were once mere humans before hindsight made them less or more.
_____________________

MPAA rating: R (solely for violence)

The Coen brothers certainly know how to make a western. After pulling off the unlikely feat of a worthy remake of True Grit, they brought to life a diverse collection of short stories in this Netflix anthology film (which was apparently meant to be a series at first). Whether it be wagon-training on the Oregon Trail or discussing human nature in a potentially symbolic stagecoach, the Old West has rarely been so mythologized as it is here, painting a broad canvas of cheery gunfights, dark satire, and quiet desperation.

Each of the six tales is unique and presented as installments of a short story collection; they feel authentic in that short story way, and indeed two of the segments are based off stories by Jack London and Stewart Edward White. Tim Blake Nelson is probably the most memorable character as the titular Buster Scruggs, who revels in his gun-slinging superiority while crooning tunes and conversing with the audience. The lightness of this first story is deceiving, though, and the film isn’t afraid to be downright depressing. In fact, of the six yarns, only one has what could be considered a happy ending, but even the film’s sadder moments are punctuated by insightful and poignant themes, such as the selfishness of man or the rugged unfairness of this place called the Old West.

Not all of the stories are equal, of course, the weakest being James Franco’s laconic bank robber tale, which seemed to exist solely for the sake of some last-minute, literal gallows humor. Everyone I’ve read seems to agree that the title of best (as well as longest) belongs to “The Girl Who Got Rattled,” an achingly realistic segment in which Zoe Kazan steps out of her usual roles and proves her skill as an actress.

What I loved most about The Ballad of Buster Scruggs was its script. The dialogue, antiquated, eloquent, and clean, was a joy to listen to, and it’s proof positive that you just don’t need strong profanity for an Oscar-worthy script. (Sadly, its screenplay was only nominated, along with Costume Design and the song “When a Cowboy Trades His Spurs for Wings.”) Unfortunately, it still earns its R-rating for the sometimes jarring gun violence (Buster Scruggs himself is the worst offender), but it’s still an uncommonly good member of a recently uncommon genre, full of gorgeous cinematography and seasoned thesps in all-too-brief roles, such as Nelson, Franco, Liam Neeson, Tom Waits, Brendan Gleeson, Tyne Daly, and Saul Rubinek. It’s a sign that the western genre is ripe for resurrection and that the Coens are perfect for the job.

Best lines: (Buster Scruggs) “There’s just gotta be a place up ahead where men ain’t low-down and poker’s played fair. If there weren’t, what are all the songs about? I’ll see y’all there. And we can sing together and shake our heads over all the meanness in the used-to-be.”

and

(The Englishman) “You know the story, but people can’t get enough of them, like little children. Because, well, they connect the stories to themselves, I suppose, and we all love hearing about ourselves, so long as the people in the stories are us, but not us. Not us in the end, especially.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: Wyatt Earp (1994)

Tags

Biopic, Drama, History, VC Pick, Western

When the dust of the town seems to tremble with dread
As it blows and remembers becoming blood red
The last time that many a cowardly head
Ducked down as a bully drew near,

When fingers are itchy and tempers are short,
When fight makes you foolish and flight makes you sport,
And no one is willing, in street or in court,
To hazard their life and career,

When violence is common and wounds are left raw,
And only a few have the courage to draw,
It’s they who must lay down an unbending law
And clear the frontier of its fear.
_______________________

MPAA rating: PG-13

It’s been far too long since I gave my dear Viewing Companion (VC) a chance to pick a movie, and after her choice of Tombstone several months ago, she wanted to compare it to Kevin Costner’s competitor Wyatt Earp. Released just a year after Tombstone, which centered solely on the events surrounding the famous gunfight at the O.K. Corral, Wyatt Earp sought to differentiate itself by painting a much broader picture of Wyatt’s entire life, from his childhood to his later years.

For anyone wondering up front, Tombstone is easily the better film (albeit more violent), as the Rotten Tomatoes scores of both will attest. Whereas Wyatt Earp is expansive and rambling, with the O.K. Corral as just another event among many in Earp’s life, the limited scope of Tombstone makes it much more focused, as well as an hour shorter than Wyatt Earp’s exorbitant three-hour-plus runtime. (Honestly, it might have worked better as the miniseries it was originally planned to be.)

But all that’s not to say that Wyatt Earp doesn’t have its merits. My VC called it “an admirable attempt” at presenting Earp’s full story, and it did give more insight into what formed him into the cold and fearless lawman he became. Story elements like his tragic first marriage or how his father (Gene Hackman) saved him from a particularly low period in his life certainly add to his character, with details Tombstone didn’t have the time or inclination to include. Plus, the performances are solid throughout with an all-star cast to rival that of Tombstone. I must mention the Lost alert for Jeff Fahey as Ike Clanton, but many will also recognize Mark Harmon, Jim Caviezel, Bill Pullman, JoBeth Williams, Isabella Rossellini, Catherine O’Hara, Tom Sizemore, Adam Baldwin, and Tea Leoni. And I mustn’t forget Dennis Quaid as the TB-ridden Doc Holliday, with Quaid’s commitment evident in how gaunt and sickly-looking he became for the role.

Everyone does a fine job in the acting department, but again they rarely compare with their Tombstone counterparts. As well as Quaid does, he’s no match for Val Kilmer’s career-best role as Holliday, just as Kurt Russell overshadows Costner, though I can see Costner’s darker interpretation being more true to history. The friendship between the two of Earp and Holliday is definitely better defined and presented in Tombstone.

Yet it’s mainly in the comparison that Wyatt Earp falls short; on its own, it’s still a good film with more than a few strong moments exemplifying Earp’s tough-as-nails persona. James Newton Howard’s sweeping score also elevates it as a western. If you can get Tombstone out of the back of your mind, Wyatt Earp proves to be a comprehensive and well-produced history lesson, with plenty of creative license that acknowledges how history becomes legend.

Best line: (Doc Holliday) “Dave Rutabaugh is an ignorant scoundrel! I disapprove of his very existence. I considered ending it myself on several occasions, but self-control got the better of me.”

 

Rank: Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
608 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: Tombstone (1993)

Tags

Action, Drama, VC Pick, Western

Since this town was sprung up from the ground
And the pioneers came
And the money came round
And it earned its fame
Being anything but tame,
Many drinks and fears were both poured and downed
At the unembellished name
Of Tombstone.

Curing wanderlust with its drinks and dust,
It soon started to draw
Folk you could not trust,
For there was no law
When the West was raw
Till a man moved in to defend what’s just
When he reached his last straw
In Tombstone.
___________________________

MPAA rating: R

Once again, I fear I’ve been neglecting my dear VC, who hasn’t gotten one of her movies reviewed in well over a month. This time, she picked Tombstone, an all-star western that I’m honestly surprised I hadn’t seen before. As a sweeping retelling of the events surrounding the gunfight at the OK Corral, it provides a fictionalized but surprisingly comprehensive look at the law enforcement career of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday.

I knew only the most general background information about the shootout at the OK Corral involving Wyatt Earp and the Clantons, but Tombstone offered quite a bit of context with its large ensemble cast. Not only do we see Wyatt Earp’s arrival in Tombstone and the increasing tension between his family and the violent gang called the Cowboys, but we get to find out the aftermath of the OK Corral incident, which could have ended the film as its climax.

Earp himself, played by a tough-as-nails Kurt Russell, is a well-known badass trying to retire from his days as a peace officer, yet an early confrontation with an unrecognizable Billy Bob Thornton confirms he can still put the fear of God in bad guys. Once we’re introduced to his family and sick friend Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer), it’s only a matter of time before his attempted retirement yields to bloodshed and vengeance as the Cowboys threaten the peace.

Like Silverado, another favorite western of mine, Tombstone boasts a staggering number of famous faces, some of them before they became famous. Russell is a fantastic Wyatt Earp, while Kilmer brings an unflinching swagger to an all-around pip of a role, which is considered one of his very best with good reason. Since my VC is a huge fan of Sam Elliott, his appearance as Wyatt’s older brother explains in part why she likes this movie so much, but there’s also Bill Paxton as the other Earp brother, Powers Boothe as wicked “Curly Bill” Brocius, Michael Biehn as fearsome Johnny Ringo, Stephen Lang and Thomas Haden Church as two Clantons, Dana Delany as Wyatt’s love interest, and Billy Zane as a visiting actor. That’s not even mentioning the smaller roles for the likes of Charlton Heston, Dana Wheeler-Nicholson, John Corbett, Michael Rooker, Harry Carey, Jr., Gunsmoke’s Buck Taylor, Jason Priestley, and (Lost alert!) Terry O’Quinn as Tombstone’s mayor. It’s hard at first for me to keep up with the less familiar faces, but the biggest stars stand out with strong support from the ensemble around them.

I suppose I ought to see Kevin Costner’s Wyatt Earp from the following year for comparison’s sake, but it would be hard-pressed to top this western epic. While liberties are taken, there were many events and details that I was surprised to learn were true upon researching afterward, such as the fate of Johnny Ringo, which is a point of historical mystery yet was worked plausibly into Tombstone’s plot. Russell and Kilmer are in top form here, and Boothe and Biehn make for genuinely despicable villains from their very first scene. I wouldn’t hesitate to put Tombstone high among the top ten westerns I’ve seen, and it would likely make my Top 365 List if only I was more partial to the western genre. (True Grit is still my favorite.) As it is, I enjoyed Tombstone for its strong performances, excellent script, and historical interest; it’s the kind of movie that makes me want to like westerns more.

Best line (simple but great characterization): (Turkey Creek Jack Johnson) “Doc, you oughta be in bed. What the hell you doin’ this for anyway?”
(Doc Holliday) “Wyatt Earp is my friend.”
(Johnson) “Hell, I got lots of friends.”
(Doc) “I don’t.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2018 S.G. Liput
568 Followers and Counting

 

Hell or High Water (2016)

Tags

Drama, Thriller, Western

Now, justice out West could be spotty at best,
From the stories of outlaws I’ve heard,
Where the reach of the law often wound to a draw
With the lines of what’s ethical blurred.

The days of the lone desperados have gone
Into textbook and legend and grave,
But their daring unrest still lives on in the West
In the folks who just barely behave.
___________________

MPAA rating: R

If not for its Oscar nominations, it’s doubtful I’d ever have watched Hell or High Water, since a modern heist western with an R rating isn’t the kind of film that would normally catch my interest. Yet this film turned out to be a pleasant surprise, and even if it had zero chance of winning Best Picture, I see why it was counted among the best films of 2016.

Chris Pine and Ben Foster play two brothers, Toby and Tanner Howard, who embark on a robbery spree of Texas Midlands Bank branches, taking only small scores early in the morning. While Foster’s Tanner is the wild card who enjoys the criminal undertaking a bit too much, Pine’s Toby is the level head behind it all, revealing much more clever planning than Tanner’s improvised antics might indicate. Opposite these masked outlaws are Jeff Bridges as Texas Ranger Marcus Hamilton and Gil Birmingham as his half-Indian deputy Alberto, trying to track down the robbers and figure out their motives. While the Howard brothers are ostensibly the bad guys, the conflict isn’t good versus evil; it’s the law against the desperate. Toby and Tanner sticking it to the banks is part revenge but also done with selfless intentions, and Pine’s natural Captain Kirk likability ensures that the robbers never lose our sympathy, despite his criminal brother’s recklessness.

While the whole cast are in top form, with Bridges especially fitting his grizzled lawman role like a glove, the true star to me is the screenplay. There’s an evident bitterness toward the financial crash and predatory banks, as seen in building after building being foreclosed, and a perceptive commentary of the state of the classic West: cowboys coexist with neon green sports cars, and Alberto comments on the karmic irony of the land once again being taken away from its former owners. As for characterization, the relationships and conversations between characters seem to share a kind of grudging respect. The brothers bicker and cuss at each other but are still loving brothers at the end of the day, while Bridges’ Ranger enjoys teasing Alberto with all manner of Indian insults, but they know each other well enough to recognize the fondness behind the traded barbs. Even in the final scene, after things hardly turn out as any of them hoped, there’s a hint of respect behind the antagonism.

In addition, the film captures the down-to-earth attitude of Texas in general. As Ranger Hamilton says, “I love West Texas,” where the waitresses tell you what to order and the populace isn’t afraid to fight back. I loved when the patrons of one of the robbed banks actually peppered Toby’s car with gunfire and gave chase to the bandits; I doubt you’d see that kind of reaction anywhere else.

Hell or High Water still had too much language for my taste and a few violent moments, but overall it’s proof positive that Westerns are far from dead, even the familiar cops-and-robbers story. With a script that should have won the Oscar and an ending at once sad and fitting, it’s got all the grit and heart of a potential modern classic.

Best line: (Alberto) “I’m starving.”
(Hamilton) “I doubt they serve pemmican.”
(Alberto) “You know I’m part Mexican, too.”
(Hamilton) “Yeah, well, I’m gonna get to that when I’m through with the Indian insults, but it’s gonna be a while.”
(Bank manager) “You rangers are an odd bunch.”
(Alberto) “No, just him.”

Rank: List Runner-Up

© 2017 S.G. Liput
453 Followers and Counting

 

High Plains Drifter (1973)

Tags

Drama, Western

 

Into town the stranger rode,
No history or name.
Revenge was due, a debt was owed,
And yet no other came.
All in town their worry showed
But covered up their shame,
Remembering the episode
For which they were to blame.
The still and sullen streets forebode
A secret, savage aim.
Into town the stranger rode,
And justice did the same.
________________

MPAA rating: R

For someone who loves movies, I do seem to have some glaring blind spots when it comes to expanding my repertoire. I’m a stranger to Tarantino and zombie films (though I don’t really care to be acquainted), and I’ve just recently begun exploring the most recent James Bond, Oliver Stone, and classic Hitchcock. One actor/director I know more by reputation than experience is Clint Eastwood. High Plains Drifter is actually the first western I’ve seen of his, and it confirmed why he is such a commanding screen presence.

Drawing from Eastwood’s experience with spaghetti westerns, High Plains Drifter also borrows certain elements from the likes of Seven Samurai and High Noon. Like Seven Samurai and its American remake The Magnificent Seven, the small desert town of Lago, named for the oddly located lake bordering it, lives in fear of the return of vengeful bandits and looks to a skilled stranger for salvation. Like High Noon, the film builds to the inevitable showdown between the lone defender and the encroaching enemy. A key question that sets High Plains Drifter apart, though, is “Is the town worth saving?” The townspeople in Seven Samurai and High Noon were prone to ingratitude and fear, but the settlers of Lago sit upon a cruel secret that takes much of the sympathy out of their plight.

Eastwood has played many a tough guy for the ages, not least of which is the nameless Stranger who rides into town without a word, backed by Dee Barton’s spookily atmospheric score. When the Stranger proves his grit and his aim by killing Lago’s supposed defenders, the sheriff begs him to protect them, promising him anything he wants in return. Despite his distaste for the town, the Stranger agrees and proceeds to take full advantage of the open-ended offer, ordering free drinks, the entire hotel to himself, and other unreasonable demands that seem meant to punish the town as a whole. The film walks a fine line between the Stranger’s abuse and how deserving the town may be of it, crossing the line on occasion when he freely rapes two women, who unrealistically don’t seem to mind too much after the fact. Except for that needless exploitation, Eastwood’s Stranger proves to be a compellingly mysterious anti-hero, whose intentions for the town itself remain uncertain right to the end. When asked what comes after the showdown, he defiantly replies, “Then you live with it.”

Far from Eastwood’s first rodeo, High Plains Drifter is a brazen western that questions the decency of frontier folk. Aside from Eastwood, Billy Curtis plays his closest ally, the diminutive Mordecai who has also felt the town’s malice, and Richard Bull appears as a shopkeeper, a year before he played the owner of Oleson’s Mercantile on Little House on the Prairie. I can’t say how High Plains Drifter compares with Eastwood’s other westerns (yet), but it’s a somewhat haunting entry in the western genre that gives a whole new meaning to “painting the town red.”

Best line: (the Stranger, after an overdue assault from his rape victim) “Wonder what took her so long to get mad?”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2016 S. G. Liput
411 Followers and Counting

 

Bottom-Dweller: Urban Cowboy (1980)

Tags

Bottom-Dweller, Drama, Romance, Western

 

 

(Can be sung to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia”)

 

Travolta went down to Houston,

He was lookin’ for a job to take.

He was young and dumb, just a country bum,

And he was waiting for his big break,

 

When he came across this young girl

Dancin’ round in a honky-tonk,

A promised land of beer and band

With a metal bull or bronc.

 

When the misfit pair were married,

Things at first were going well,

But some stubbornness made a jealous mess

And the marriage quickly fell.

 

While the two just boozed and pined away

And rode that bucking bull,

I began to think that this movie stinks

And was near unbearable.

__________________

 

This is it, the original bottom-dweller. This is the first movie I sat through and immediately hated, or, to coin Roger Ebert’s quote from his review of North, I “hated hated hated hated hated this movie.” Urban Cowboy was yet another star vehicle for John Travolta, but with films like this, it’s a wonder he became a star at all. I don’t usually subject myself to terrible films, but never before have I asked “Is it over yet?” so many times.

It starts out with some promise: small-town wannabe cowboy heads to the big city to find his fortune, meets girl, marries girl. That storyline alone might have been worth seeing, but the relationship between Bud and Sissy is hardly one for the ages. They meet each other in the famous Gilley’s Club, a multi-acre theme park of booze and cowboy paraphernalia, and Sissy (Debra Winger) has to practically twist Bud’s arm to convince him to dance with her. After some dancing and an argument and a roll in the mud, they’re suddenly walking down the aisle. Did either of them really think a marriage starting like that would last? As it turns out, barely a week passes before Bud’s pride is hurt, and both go their separate ways to make the other jealous, with increasingly depressing results.

One of my biggest problems with Urban Cowboy is the character of Bud. Travolta isn’t appealing in the slightest; he’s a juvenile man-child so unconfident in his masculinity that the slightest hint that someone may be better than he throws him into a blind rage, especially if it’s his own wife. In addition, he’s the kind of bumpkin that gives country music a bad name, content to work (sometimes) during the day and wile away his nights at the bar, picking fights and slapping his wife when she disagrees too much (but not too hard, of course). Plus, he’s supposedly in Houston to work and save up enough money to buy land and become prosperous, yet never seems to realize that he’s pouring his paycheck down the drain every night on beer and bets and pointless mechanical bull rides. Oh, and let’s not forget that he doesn’t just pretend to cheat on Sissy to make her jealous; he freely sleeps around, too stubborn to actually care for the girl he uses (Madolyn Smith) and too dense to realize why Sissy isn’t running back to him with open arms. What exactly am I supposed to like about this guy?

A series of misunderstandings keeps the couple apart, and Sissy ends up with “real cowboy” Wes Hightower, played by a leery Scott Glenn, who’s just a slightly harsher version of Bud, hitting a little too hard and stealing what he can’t earn. If Bud and Wes are “real cowboys”, they’re the worst kind, selfish he-men just trying to prove their own toughness to girls they only moderately care about. By the end, Bud trains Rocky-style for a mechanical bull showdown, and he seems to think that winning it will win Sissy back. How so? A silly championship is not going to repair a relationship; all his training is pointless, since all he really needed to do was go and apologize for his own pigheadedness. While he ends up doing exactly this, it’s as if he can’t muster the effort until he’s once again proven his alpha male status. Of course, it all works out for a happy ending, where assault turns into just desserts and a whirlwind romance rekindles into a whirlwind reconciliation. And then, thank God!, it was over!

This just might be my most hated bottom-dweller, with hardly any redeeming value. The only bright point is the classic country music soundtrack, particularly Charlie Daniels’ “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” For reasons beyond my comprehension, my VC and many other critics actually liked the film itself, looking past its unlikable characters and petty squabbling. She tells me that she finds the movie “interesting for its dysfunctional lifestyle” and as compelling to watch as a car accident, while I’d prefer just to not look at all. I don’t plan to ever see Urban Cowboy again; I have much better things to do than watch white trash with superficial, totally screwed-up priorities cheating on each other.

Best line: (Bud) “All cowboys ain’t dumb. Some of ’em got smarts real good, like me.”

VC’s best line:  (Bud’s Uncle Bob) “You know, Bud, sometimes even a cowboy’s gotta swallow his pride to hold on to somebody he loves.”  (Bud) “What do you mean?”   (Uncle Bob) “Hell, I know I pretty near lost Corrine and the kids a couple of times just ’cause of pride. You know, you think that ol’ pride’s gonna choke you going down, but I tell you what, ain’t a night goes by I don’t thank the Boss up there for giving me a big enough throat.”

 

Rank: BOTTOM-DWELLER!

 

© 2015 S. G. Liput

311 Followers and Counting

#47: True Grit (1969, 2010)

Tags

Drama, Western

Mattie Ross’s father’s shot

By hired hand Tom Chaney.

She means to see the killer caught

And tried and hanged, just as he ought.

Although she’s young, afraid she’s not

But rather tough and brainy.

 

She needs a man who will commit

To show this fiend the noose.

The marshal she feels is most fit

Is Rooster Cogburn, who has grit

And gives in (when she doesn’t quit)

To chase this wild goose.

 

Accompanying them out west

Is Texas law LaBoeuf.

Though Rooster cares not for this guest,

They all continue on their quest

And follow hearsay when confessed

To tail the cutthroat thief.

 

When Mattie finds by accident

The man she has been hunting,

She’s captured by his gang hell-bent,

Who leave them both and can’t prevent

Tom Chaney’s murderous intent,

Until LaBoeuf’s confronting.

 

While Rooster fights Ned Pepper’s gang,

Miss Ross falls in a pit.

Tom Chaney has no need to hang,

But Mattie meets a rattler’s fang,

And Rooster, ere a fatal pang,

Yet proves his truest grit.

_________________

 

Easily my favorite western, True Grit is a story of perseverance and justice the likes of which I have yet to see in the genre. Based on Charles Portis’s 1968 novel, both the 1969 film and the 2010 remake have their strong points and are so similar that I had to include them together (same as my post for A Christmas Carol; the poem pretty much covers any version).

The 1969 True Grit has always been a staple in my house. As evidenced by his lone Best Actor Oscar win, John Wayne found his best role as larger-than-life, trigger-happy, one-eyed marshal and “fat old man” Rooster Cogburn. Kim Darby occasionally overacts, but she displays Mattie’s fierce resolve while remaining appropriately girlish. Many have decried Glen Campbell’s performance as LaBoeuf, criticism I believe he didn’t deserve. While he’s not what I would call a skilled actor, there’s nothing particularly distracting or dreadful about his performance. Besides, when you consider that Elvis Presley was the original choice for LaBoeuf, Campbell seems even more preferable. The Colorado scenery is stunning, and Rooster’s exhilarating charge against Ned Pepper’s gang is (or should be) as iconic a gunfight as any filmed.

As for the 2010 remake by the Coen brothers, it’s basically the same story with different actors, and the latter half from Mattie’s confrontation with Chaney to her rescue is more or less identical in both versions, though some earlier scenes were unnecessarily drawn out. While most of the events are perfectly recognizable, the film as a whole has a much more serious, pitiless, and…gritty tone. Though there is more language and violence, as I would expect from a modern-day remake, the Coens’ film also carries more Biblical messages and a melancholy score imbued with haunting hymns. Considering the often satirical and strange content of other Coen films, True Grit is one of their most restrained and sincere works, with mere glimpses of their comedic voice. Though I have not read the book, I’ve heard the remake is closer in tone and plot to Portis’s novel; the screenplay succeeds in reflecting both the author and the directors, with peculiarly worded dialogue like “I’m puzzled by this” and “You give out very little sugar with your pronouncements.”

My VC considers the 1969 True Grit sacred territory, like The Wizard of Oz or Gone with the Wind, a film that could never be matched by any remake. I, however, found the remake almost as good as the original. As excellent as Jeff Bridges is as Rooster Cogburn, with more uncouth ways and a more gravelly voice, John Wayne is untouchable and remains the main reason I prefer the first film. His delivery of lines like “Fill your hand, you son of a b****” carry so much more force and vitality than Bridges’. There’s a reason Wayne won Best Actor, while Bridges was only nominated (though he had won the previous year for Crazy Heart).

On the other hand, I prefer Matt Damon’s LaBoeuf over Glen Campbell’s; Damon gives him more personality, though his separations from Mattie and Rooster seemed unnecessary. Oscar nominee Hailee Steinfeld acts more mature as the 2010 Mattie, but she’s more or less on par with Darby, in my opinion. (It’s interesting to note that the role of the ill-fated Moon in the violent dugout scene seems to go to up-and-coming stars. Dennis Hopper played the boy in the original, and though Domhnall Gleeson wasn’t well-known in the 2010 version, he soon will be from his inclusion in J. J. Abrams’ Star Wars sequel next year.) Overall, both films boast an exemplary cast that put them on almost even footing.

The Coens’ film may be more artistic and realistic (the flat prairie setting is more as Oklahoma should look than the mountainous vistas of the original film), but the 1969 version is more enjoyable to watch. Even with the onscreen death of a major character, John Wayne’s greatest film ends on an uplifting “Yee haw” note rather than the somber narration of the remake and book. Both are excellent, but John Wayne tips the scale with the culminating performance of his career.

Best line from 1969: (Mattie) “You are too old and fat to be jumping horses.”  (Rooster, before proceeding to jump a fence) “Well, come see a fat old man some time!”

Best line from 2010: (Mattie’s narration, referring to Chaney’s crime) “You must pay for everything in this world, one way and another. There is nothing free except the grace of God.”

 

Rank: 57 out of 60

 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

265 Followers and Counting

The Mask of Zorro (1998)

Tags

Action, Drama, Romance, Superhero, Western

Don Diego de la Vega is the hero of the poor

Known as Zorro, who has allies and sworn enemies galore.

When the governor Montero learns of his identity,

He arrests him and abducts his child Elena wickedly.

 

Twenty years go by before Montero seeks his captive foe,

Bringing his adopted daughter back with him to Mexico.

De la Vega then escapes, intent on his revenge and hate,

But the sight of his Elena causes him to hesitate.

 

In the meantime, Alejandro Murrieta is well-known

As a bandit with his brother, but he soon is all alone.

Army Captain Love attacks and cruelly claims his partners twain,

Prompting in him dreams of vengeance, which at this point are in vain.

 

Zorro takes young Alejandro, seeing some potential there,

And he trains him in sword fighting in his secret Zorro lair.

After lessons hard and long, the newest Zorro tries his hand,

Posing as a wealthy don to learn of what Montero’s planned.

 

Alejandro is intrigued by beautiful Elena, who

Cannot help but be enamored of this masked intruder too.

When Montero tells his plot to buy the nation with bravado,

He shows off poor peasants forced to labor in his El Dorado.

 

Alejandro steals a map and fences in the poor’s defense,

Even as the bad guys try mass murder to hide evidence.

Both the Zorros, old and recent, battle their respective foes,

And Elena helps their struggle, thanks to shocking truths she knows.

 

Alejandro takes revenge, and de la Vega follows suit,

Though the latter man is wounded, dying worthy of salute.

Alejandro weds Elena now that justice has been won,

And he shares their grand adventure with Joaquin, their infant son.

_________________

 

The Mask of Zorro isn’t exactly an origin story, but a changing of the guard from one Zorro to the next, a difficult endeavor that was amazingly satisfying. The opening action scene of Errol Flynn-style derring-do conveys a lifetime of such heroics, and expert thespian Anthony Hopkins as the elderly Zorro pulls it off, even if his accent is out of place. Antonio Banderas fits in perfectly both because he is actually Hispanic and because his swashbuckling swagger is one of the film’s main pleasures. Banderas was a natural at sword fighting, according to fight choreographer Bob Anderson, and I’m not surprised. Another big draw is his on-screen chemistry with Catherine Zeta-Jones, who manages a seductive Latina allure despite being Welsh.

The film is basically a revenge tale set against a historical backdrop. Historical events, such as the Mexican-American War, are mentioned in passing, and Alejandro’s brother and accomplice were real Mexican bandits who met the same grisly fate (more or less) as in the film. Any historical inaccuracies are not as glaring as in the 2005 sequel The Legend of Zorro, which pales in comparison to the drama of this original.

Though a few scenes during de la Vega’s prison escape recall Spartacus and The Count of Monte Cristo, the film is still dashingly original while paying tribute to its many predecessors from the first half of the century. At a time when overblown reboots were just starting to become the Hollywood norm, The Mask of Zorro favored practical stunts and emotional narrative over gimmicks or cinematic extravagance. It’s a thrilling and mostly clean film (aside from one or two scenes) that brings to life one of the original “superheroes” of pulp fiction.

Best line: (Diego, referring to Alejandro’s sword) “Do you know how to use that thing?”   (Alejandro) “Yeah, the pointy end goes into the other man.”

 

Artistry: 8

Characters/Actors: 9

Entertainment: 9

Visual Effects: 9

Originality: 7

Watchability: 8

 

TOTAL: 50 out of 60

 

Next: #116 – Terminator 2: Judgment Day

© 2014 S. G. Liput

209 Followers and Counting

 

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002)

Tags

Action, Animation, Drama, Dreamworks, Family, Western

(Can be sung to Bryan Adams’s “Where I Belong”)

 

A horse was born so long ago,

Out in the West where free things grow,

An unfettered mustang, an ace in his prime,

Free to run, as they have for all time.

 

Leading his happy herd, defending each foal,

This Spirit’s unrestrained, till he falls under man’s control.

His homeland’s behind him; his future’s unknown,

Yet he keeps on fighting to live on his own.

 

He shows up his captors and earns their distaste,

But, helped by an Indian, he breaks out in haste.

Persistent young Little Creek tries riding in vain,

But he introduces his fair mare named Rain.

 

Though Spirit is shocked that the human and she

Display some connection that lets her run free,

He sees for himself that the Two-Legs possessed

More room for kindness than he had first guessed.

 

Though Spirit could run home, he opts to go back

And rescues the boy from a sudden attack.

Though poor Rain is injured, he still finds his hope

As he helps drag a train up a slope.

 

He halts all their efforts, escaping from flame,

Relieved loyal Little Creek thankfully came.

They flee from pursuers and leap for their lives;

Spirit’s glad when a healed Rain arrives.

 

Goodbyes are not easy when trust has been earned,

But they know it’s time that the mustang returned.

With Rain by his side, Spirit’s now free to roam

And at last he again embraces his home.

____________________

 

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron was one of my favorite movies growing up. As I’ve said, movies that have made me cry hold a special place in my heart, and Spirit is one such Childhood Tearjerker. DreamWorks knew from the start that most adults and kids alike love horses, and seeing such a wild and free creature dragged from his home was enough to get my waterworks going. It still touches me, though I don’t weep like I used to.

The animation is absolutely stunning. While some of the CGI from the opening is obvious, still lovely but paling in comparison to that of Dinosaur, the rest of the Western landscapes and the hand-drawn horses are gorgeous (especially the gorges). I’m no artist, but most agree that horses are among the most difficult creatures to draw: after all, Maurice Sendak illustrated Where the Wild Things Are with assorted beasts only because he realized he couldn’t draw horses. Not only are the horses arrestingly beautiful and convincing, but their facial features evoke the full spectrum of emotions without ever lapsing into anthropomorphic talking animal territory. Spirit himself has some inward monologues, provided by Matt Damon, who could have varied his voice more, but the rest of the animal interaction is done skillfully with emotion-filled neighs, whinnies, wickers, nickers, brays, and countless other equine ejaculations. So well is the wordless interplay handled that much of Damon’s voiceover, which ranges from stirring to funny, seemed unnecessary, though my VC felt it served to break up all the whinnying.

Then again, that is why Bryan Adams’s excellent anthems were included. Along with a rousing orchestral score that once again proves Hans Zimmer’s musical facility, Adams’s songs provide the melodious heart of the film. Though some critics decried the soundtrack as “whiny” or “insipid,” I felt they added so much to the film. It may not be on the level of what Phil Collins provided for Tarzan, but every song strikes the right chord of emotion, from free-wheeling liberty to depression to rekindled hope. “Don’t Let Go,” which features Sarah McLachlan with a haunting harmony, certainly deserves a place in my End Credits Song Hall of Fame.

Over the years, I have still seen some flaws: the intruding humans are uniformly bad because of their enslavement of horses, and I don’t usually like to feel guilty for wanting to ride a horse. Since all the Indians’ horses appear happy, the film seems to imply that only they built any relationship with their ponies. All the soldiers’ horses seem to hate their masters and frequently sabotage them, not allowing for the fact that I’m sure plenty of cowboys shared a connection with their steeds. After all, even broken horses can be happy.

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron is nonetheless a lovely, G-rated adventure with fantastic music and some genuinely exciting action sequences. It was DreamWorks Animation’s second-to-last hand-drawn film (before Sinbad) and causes me to miss the days before CGI became the only animation style successfully used in film.

Best line: (part of Spirit’s opening monologue) “I was born here, in this place that would come to be called the Old West. But, to my kind, the land was ageless. It had no beginning and no end, no boundary between earth and sky. Like the wind and the buffalo, we belonged here; we would always belong here. They say the mustang is the spirit of the West. Whether that west was won or lost in the end, you’ll have to decide for yourself….”

 

Artistry: 7

Characters/Actors: 7

Entertainment: 7

Visual Effects: 10

Originality: 7

Watchability: 8

Other (crying effect): +1

 

TOTAL: 47 out of 60

 

Next: #156 – As Good As It Gets

© 2014 S. G. Liput

172 Followers and Counting