Review #1,471: 'The Sisters Brothers' (2018)

French filmmaker Jacques Audiard has made a name for himself by focusing on morally-conflicted lead characters surviving any way they can in an environment they have no real control over. Whether it be the brutal prison setting of A Prophet, the street brawls of Rust and Bone, or the Sri Lanka torn apart by civil war in Dheepan, Audiard seems most at home when tossing his lead character in the deep end and observing as the survival instincts inevitably kick in. There is perhaps no greater time and place to explore humanity at its most savage and uncivilised as the Wild West, so Audiard feels right at home among the shootouts, saloon fights and general lawlessness of his latest film, the curiously-titled The Sisters Brothers.

Based on the novel by Patrick deWitt, The Sisters Brothers follows the titular siblings Eli (John C. Reilly) and Charlie (Joaquin Phoenix), two apparent opposites who seem to tolerate each other for their shared bloodline only. While their overall outlook on life couldn't be further apart, one skill the pair undoubtedly share is a knack for killing, and their exploits have granted them an almost mythical status throughout the land. They are hired killers in the employment of a shady businessman known only as the Commodore (Rutger Hauer), and their latest job is to track down and kill chemist Hermann Kermit Warm (Riz Ahmed), who has supposedly stolen from the old man. Their journey takes them from Jacksonville to San Francisco, but the mission is plagued by misfortune. Encountering everything from bear attacks to venomous spiders to rival hired hands, these mishaps allow plenty of time for the brothers to reflect on their life choices and their future, if they are ever to make it out alive.

As the elder of the brothers, Reilly's Eli hopes to eventually settle down and walk away from a life where death seems to await them at every turn. The drunken, unpredictable Charlie believes their lives couldn't get any better, and cannot imagine a world where his brother is not at his side. Little by little their backstories are revealed, and although he shares his younger sibling's flair for murder, it becomes clear that Eli's life would have turned out quite differently if he wasn't forced to pick up the pieces left in the wake of Charlie's destructive nature. The two actors are so good together that the film slows down when the action moves away from them, and more time is spent developing the relationship between Warm and softly-spoken private detective John Morris (Jake Gyllenhaal). Morris is actually working with the Sisters, but has a change of heart when Warm reveals his water-based formula that will potentially turn the tide for gold prospecting.

While these little detours slightly derail the film's pace, they prove intriguing enough in their own right. Despite the brutality of their surroundings and the natural hostility of the unexplored frontier, Warm and Morris are tidier, more articulate, and completely at odds with the survivalist nature of the anti-heroes of the title. They hint at a changing world, and the way the Old West is imagined by cinematographer Benoit Debie - shot in Spain - would be more at home with the auteur-driven revisionist westerns of the 1970s, but not so different to cause traditionalists to scoff. The key ingredients are all there: bursts of violence, whiskey-drenched brothel visits, and a long, perilous journey across country; but there is a sensitive, character-driven drama at its core. It was billed as a comedy of sorts upon its release, and although there are certainly laugh-out-loud moments, they serve only to reinforce the humanity lurking within its murky characters.


Directed by: Jacques Audiard
Starring: John C. Reilly, Joaquin Phoenix, Jake Gyllenhaal, Riz Ahmed, Rebecca Root, Rutger Hauer
Country: France/Spain/Romania/Belgium/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,424: 'The Ballad of Buster Scruggs' (2018)

The Coen brothers have long weaved their love of the western genre into their movies, whether it be capturing its core essence with the likes of Blood Simple and Raising Arizona, or tackling the genre head-on with No Country for Old Men and True Grit. Their latest, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, which makes its way onto Netflix after a limited theatrical release, sees the siblings hark back to the horse operas of old. Initially marked as an anthology series, it soon evolved into a feature of six unrelated stories, bound together only by the imaginary pages of the short-story book we as the viewer are supposed to be reading. The final product suffers from the same problems faced by any film attempting the portmanteau format - a couple are great, some are either frustratingly short or unnecessarily drawn-out, and at least one you'll be struggling to remember after the credits have rolled.

There's also the feeling that Buster Scruggs blows its load far too early, as the titular Ballad, featuring one of Tim Blake Nelson's best performances, struts into town on the back of a horse carrying the smoothest country singer and deadliest gunslinger in the West, and knocks it out of the park. It's a bizarre little tale that mixes the yodell-y crooning of those white hat vs. black hat genre pictures of old with bursts of the ironic, darkly humorous violence the Coens are so well known for. The tunes are wonderful, the cinematography (by Bruno Delbonnel) is ingeniously inventive (watch out for that shot from inside the guitar), and Nelson is a lively narrator. It ends too soon, and you can't help but think that a standalone feature for the sharply-dressed Buster Scruggs may have been warranted instead. The next story, Near Algodones, sees James Franco's roaming thief hold up the wrong bank and come under fire from the gun-toting teller, played by Stephen Root. It's supposed to be a funny tale of irony and karma, but ultimately feels like an afterthought in the wake of Scruggs' more well-rounded story.

Meal Ticket is more sombre in tone, following opportunistic impresario Harrison (Liam Neeson) and his performer, the legless and armless Artist, who is played with great poise by Harry Melling (Dudley Dursley from the Harry Potter films). There is a great idea here, one fraught with tragedy and sorrow, but it simply doesn't have enough time to fully develop its ideas. Slotting nicely alongside Buster Scruggs as a stand-out piece is All Gold Canyon, in which Tom Waits' grizzled prospector digs for gold in an untouched valley. It's like the opening scene of There Will Be Blood, only this also has a nice surprise in store as the weather-beaten old man searches for 'Mr. Pocket', the place in the ground holding his grand prize. The remaining two stories, The Gal Who Got Rattled and The Mortal Remains, touch on romance and horror elements, as the characters are transported by wagon train and stagecoach, respectively, to the destination that may or may not await them. They round off a mish-mash of tones and themes, and although they each have individual merits, they simply don't gel together or flow naturally. Fans will no doubt find some wonderful stuff here, as I did, but recommended only for Nelson and Waits, whose stories are up there with some of the Coens' very best.


Directed by: Ethan Coen, Joel Coen
Starring: Tim Blake Nelson, James Franco, Liam Neeson, Harry Melling, Tom Waits, Zoe Kazan, Bill Heck, Tyne Daly, Brendan Gleeson, Jonjo O'Neill
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,411: 'Ramrod' (1947)

Feuding landowners have always been a popular subject matter for the old-school B-movie westerns, and on face value Andre De Toth's Ramrod appears to be cut from very familiar material. The presence of co-stars Joel McCrea and Veronica Lake no doubt attracted punters charmed six years earlier by their performances in Preston Sturges' masterpiece Sullivan's Travels, and they would be forgiven if they thought they were in for some light-hearted white hat vs. black hat cowboy fun, with a little bit of romance sprinkled in for good measure. In fact, Ramrod couldn't be further away from Sturges' romp in terms of tone, with De Toth revelling in the cynicism of all but one of its central characters. Based on a story by legendary Western author Luke Short, this is a tough, twisty horse opera that pushes its characters into morally murky territory, sharing more in common with the film noir genre than the tropes of a western.

As the film opens, we are already at the boiling point of a conflict between powerful ranch owner Frank Ivey (Preston Foster) and sheepherder Walt Shipley (Ian MacDonald). Walt wants to bring sheep to the land, a big problem in cattle country. Caught in the middle of the feud is Connie Dickason (Lake), the beautiful and headstrong daughter of rancher Ben (Charles Ruggles). Her father wants Connie to marry Ivey, but she detests his bullying, violent manner and prefers to marry Walt instead. As it turns out, Walt doesn't have the stomach for a fight and flees town, leaving his Circle 66 ranch to Connie. Rather than caving to Ivey's demands for the land, Connie hires the stoic Dave Nash (McCrea) as her 'ramrod', or foreman, who feels indebted to Walt for taking him in when he was at his lowest. Dave accepts, but only on the promise that he is allowed to deal with Ivey peacefully, and without resorting to violence. He hires the free-spirited Bill Schell (Don DeFore) as back-up, but as Ivey and his gang employ increasingly brutal methods and Connie loses patience with Dave's restraint, alliances are forged and broken as the conflict spirals out of control.

Despite the magic they made together working with Sturges, I've never been particularly fond of either McCrea or Lake as actors. They have the screen presence, certainly, but they can both come across as empty shells. They are undoubtedly the weakest aspect of Ramrod, a film that is otherwise riveting from start to finish. The story is complicated enough to hold your interest for the duration, with supporting characters emerging to play a more important role that you were expecting, and revealing hidden layers that provide plenty of twists and turns. Indeed, Ramrod would be pretty pedestrian if Dave's methods proved to be the only way, and as his grip on the situation loosens when the back-stabbing and dirty dealings start to play out, the film heads into pure film noir territory. As the bodies start to pile up and the gun-fire becomes more frequent, De Toth forces his characters down some incredibly dark paths and doesn't wimp out of the difficult corners he backs them into. This is tough and exciting stuff, made all the more interesting by the way De Toth toys with the myth of black against white. The weakness of the leads is countered by some excellent supporting players, in particular Foster and DeFore.


Directed by: André De Toth
Starring: Joel McCrea, Veronica Lake, Don DeFore, Donald Crisp, Preston Foster, Arleen Whelan, Charles Ruggles, Lloyd Bridges
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,404: 'The Quick and the Dead' (1995)

By 1995, the western genre had all but disappeared completely from our cinema screens. Black-and-white tales of cowboys and Indians in America's Old West was the stuff your granddad would watch on television during the day and claim they just don't make 'em like this anymore. They didn't stop completely however, with the likes of Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man making an earnest attempt to infuse the genre with a psychedelic, folksy edge, and George P. Cosmatos' Tombstone turning the events at the OK Corral into an explosive action thriller. Some, like Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven, while adding a more sombre tone, successfully stuck the traditions of the genre, while others, like Sam Raimi's The Quick and the Dead, simply took an old-fashioned premise and ran with it. If you're looking for revisionism or an interesting take on an iconic time in America's history, then The Quick and the Dead ain't the film for that, but you may just find yourself having a bit more fun that you expected.

The town of Redemption was once a thriving community, but it now rests in the hands of the ruthless mayor and former outlaw John Herod (Gene Hackman). Herod enjoys a nice house while taxing his citizens 50% on any money they make, and apparently relieves his boredom by hosting a quick-draw contest every year. Gunslingers from all across the country arrive to take part - but God knows why, given the obviously high risk of death - including the mysterious Ellen (Sharon Stone), who shares a history with both the town and Herod himself. Also in town is Kid (Leonardo DiCaprio), a cocky teenager with a steady hand who also believes he is Herod's unacknowledged son, and a repentant outlaw-turned-preacher named Cort (Russell Crowe). Cort is dragged into the contest against his will by Herod's cronies, and the boss man is seemingly angered at his former associate's new anti-violence stance. There's backstory and melodrama, but it's all just an excuse for a series of stand-offs in a town where it always seems to be high noon.

While subverting expectations by enlisting a woman to play the central gunslinger, Raimi may as well have cast a broom in a wig, as Stone struggles to convincingly brood and frown and maintain any kind of interest in her character. Faring considerably better are DiCaprio and Crowe, who were just a few years off Titanic and Gladiator and the global stardom that followed. Their charisma and star quality are as clear as day, especially when they share a scene with the one-note Stone. For a film that boasts a wonderful supporting cast (Roberts Blossom, Tobin Bell, Keith David, Lance Henriksen and Gary Sinise are just some of the familiar faces), they all cower in the shadow of Gene Hackman, who somehow manages to turn some truly atrocious dialogue into Shakespeare. Yet the real star is Raimi's crazy camera lens. Before he was bringing Peter Parker's swinging exploits vividly to life in Spider-Man, he was crash-zooming on the faces of readying gunslingers and capturing daylight through a bullet-hole in the belly. It's silly, outrageous and wonderful. The problem is everything that comes in between, from the dreary central hero to the unengaging backstories.


Directed by: Sam Raimi
Starring: Sharon Stone, Gene Hackman, Russell Crowe, Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobin Bell, Roberts Blossom, Kevin Conway, Keith David, Lance Henriksen, Pat Hingle
Country: Japan/USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,335: 'Hostiles' (2017)

The tone is set very early on in Crazy Heart and Black Mass director Scott Cooper's latest slice of Americana, as a white family is set upon by a gang of blood-thirsty Comanches on horseback. The natives slaughter them all, including a young baby, all except for mother Rosalee (Rosamund Pike), who flees terrified into the wilderness soaked in blood and still clutching her dead child. It's a starling opening which is difficult to watch, and seems to set up an old-fashioned tale of good vs. bad with a modern twist. Only it isn't. As you can probably gather from the title, Hostiles is about the cycle of violence, fear and hatred on both sides of the coin, with the whites looking to settle in their newly colonised and unexplored land, while the natives seek to hold on to what they have by any means necessary. There's brutality on both sides, only the natives were there first.

Christian Bale plays Captain Joseph J. Blocker, a veteran officer known for the indifference with which he carries out his tasks, which mainly include rounding up nearby Apaches using a variety of questionable methods. In any other movie, Blocker may serve as the bad guy, but there's a discipline in his actions and a weariness in how he acts on his instincts. He and his close friend Master Sergeant Metz (an excellent Rory Cochrane) have taken about as much as they can take, and bear the scars of a life spent soaked in blood. Blocker is called to the office of Colonel Biggs (Stephen Lang) to receive his latest mission: to transport the dying war chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi) back to their home lands in Montana, as part of a political move under the instructions of the President. Under the threat of a court-martial, he agrees, and sets out on a long and perilous quest to help a man he still views as the enemy.

There is a lot to admire about Hostiles, especially the gorgeous cinematography by Masanobu Takayanagi, whose camera captures this vast and beautiful land as a sort of endless, mystical purgatory. The performances are stellar, with Bale and Pike leading a talented ensemble that also includes Jesse Plemons, Bill Camp, Q'orianka Kilcher, Adam Beach, Timothee Chalamet, Peter Mullan and Ben Foster. Yet there's a familiarity to the film's themes. The revisionist western movement has constantly depicted these times as cruel, representing the country's lowest moments, and it's no different here. The idea is that everyone can be hostile and capable of unspeakable acts when faced with mortal danger, something explored more profoundly in Cormac McCarthy's novel Blood Meridian. The poster may lead you to believe that the film is built around Blocker and Yellow Hawk's relationship, but Studi isn't given very much screen time, with the action focused more on the blossoming relationship between the grizzled Captain and the tragedy-stricken woman he stumbles upon and feels sworn to protect. Hostiles is interesting and occasionally riveting, but deeply flawed and lacking focus.


Directed by: Scott Cooper
Starring: Christian Bale, Rosamund Pike, Wes Studi, Rory Cochrane, Jesse Plemons, Adam Beach, Q'orianka Kilcher, Ben Foster, Stephen Lang
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,275: 'Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson' (1976)

Depending on which scholar of Robert Altman's sizeable body of work you read, Buffalo Bill and The Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson represents either the end of the auteur's successful early career, during which he made the likes of M.A.S.H., McCabe & Mrs. Miller, The Long Goodbye and Nashville, or the first in his line of smaller, 'misunderstood' movies that produced the likes of 3 Women, Quintet and HealtH. Whatever your viewpoint, Buffalo Bill certainly stands out as one of the black sheep of his filmography; a film ultimately made in the wrong place at the wrong time. Altman, always the satirical magician, was no doubt fully aware that debunking a famous American myth now so dangerously taken as truth during the country's bicentennial celebrations wouldn't go down particularly well with an audience feeling particularly patriotic, and would likely hit a nerve.

Sadly for Altman, few nerves would be reached as audiences stayed away in droves. It was his first major flop, and was hardly helped by such an outrageous title that contained the term 'History Lesson'. Even Paul Newman, a bankable Hollywood star, couldn't help matters, and the film still hasn't been offered the chance of re-discovery and re-evaluation it certainly deserves. Just like the brilliant McCabe & Mrs. Miller turned the western myth into the founding of American capitalism, Buffalo Bill is another revisionist western, focusing on how the hard men of the Wild West with blood on their hands were turned into folk heroes, battling the feral, bloodthirsty natives and winning the war for the New World. The sideshow announcer's voice blares over the opening credits, as Altman declares his awareness of his own role in myth-making, and that of the film itself. We are in Buffalo Bill's Wild West, a hugely popular attraction that re-enacted famous stories from recent American 'history', and offered the audience the chance to see one of its most famous figures, Buffalo Bill Cody himself.

Based on the controversial play Indians by Arthur Kopit, Altman uses the side-show to employ his most famous traits. There's a large ensemble cast featuring the likes of Geraldine Chaplin, Joel Grey, Kevin McCarthy, Harvey Keitel and Robert DoQui, overlapping dialogue, long zooms, and dialogue laced with satirical bite. Bill is portrayed as a bit of a lout, dispensing of opera singer bed-mates as soon as a new one arrives, employing a wig to hide his advancing years, and outright lying about his skills with a gun. The arrival of Sitting Bull (Frank Kaquitts) holds up a mirror to his boasts, and that of America's bloodstained history. Newman is great, and Bill's apparent cartoonishness seems fitting with the movie's hints that he may in fact be a complete fabrication conjured up by the motor-mouthed Ned Buntline (Burt Lancaster), who frequents the nearby bars boasting of his role in the founding of the country. It's confused and often flounders under the weight of its own ambition, but nevertheless this is always fascinating stuff. It isn't difficult to see why Buffalo Bill and the Indians turned off audiences back in 1976, but its exploration of the dangers of myth-making and twisting the truth are more relevant than ever in these times of social media and 'fake news'.


Directed by: Robert Altman
Starring: Paul Newman, Joel Grey, Kevin McCarthy, Harvey Keitel, Geraldine Chaplin, John Considine, Frank Kaquitts, Will Sampson, Burt Lancaster
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,268: 'Brimstone' (2016)

Only a few famous cinematic figures can get away with using their surname only when headlining a poster or introducing a movie's title. Schwarzenegger and Stallone get away with it, as would the likes of Spielberg, Kubrick and Hitchcock if they were that way inclined. In an incredible display of confidence in his work, Dutch director Martin Koolhoven opens his latest film with the title of 'Koolhoven's Brimstone', a brave move for a filmmaker few outside of the Netherlands will have heard of. He clearly takes himself very seriously, and Brimstone just may be the most serious film of the year in the way the director soaks the film with such a biblical doom-and-gloom atmosphere that it would be difficult to watch without a chin-stroke or two.

Focusing on the life of a young mute woman named Liz, played by Dakota Fanning, in a particularly brutal Old West, Brimstone is a commentary on both the strength of woman and the sadistic nature of man. Liz holds a position of respect in the town due to her midwifing skills, but when a problematic birth leads to a decision between mother or baby, she is targeted by the residents as a murderer. Things get worse when The Reverend (Guy Pearce) walks into town. He is a stoic, imposing figure eager to reinforce God's fury to his congregation, and expects total obedience in return. Liz clearly shares a history with him, and is eternally terrified in his presence. This is the first of four stories played out of order, flashing back to Liz's time in a brothel under the orders of violent owner Frank (Paul Anderson), and forward again as Liz tries to escape the clutches of The Reverend.

At first, the non-linear narrative structure is interesting, unfolding the story carefully in order to reveal truths that change your outlook of the story. When the film finished, it felt as though it was a mere distraction from the boring central plot. Brimstone is a film about punishment, and the 149-minute running-time seems like a deliberate choice from the director to punish us in the process. It's a gruelling watch; alongside the violence and misogyny of many of its characters, there's also paedophilia, rape, incest, infanticide and hangings. It seems to wallow in the very things it is rallying against, particularly an uncomfortable scene in which The Reverend humiliates his wife (played by Carice van Houten) and forces her to wear a metal bridle in an attempt to destroy her. Things liven up slightly when Kit Harington's injured outlaw arrives on the scene, but by this point you'll be too beaten down by the relentless atmosphere for it to make much of a difference. Brimstone is bold and will likely provoke discussion, but ultimately little more than an exercise in misery.


Directed by: Martin Koolhoven
Starring: Dakota Fanning, Guy Pearce, Emilia Jones, Paul Anderson, Carice van Houten, Kit Harington
Country: Netherlands/France/Germany/Belgium/Sweden/USA/UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,267: 'The Dark Tower' (2017)

Adapting a series of beloved novels spanning thousands of pages and countless characters and worlds into a consumable stand-alone movie was never going to be an easy task. Over the years, many names have been attached to developing Stephen King's Dark Tower novels, including the combined efforts of J.J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof during their Lost days, and Ron Howard. When it became apparent that these novels were indeed unfilmable, they understandably bailed, and the film found itself in limbo once again. After 10 years of rewrites and personnel changes, The Dark Tower finally arrives in the hands of Nikolaj Arcel, the director of fantastic Danish period drama A Royal Affair. Reports of heavy re-shoots and a frustrated cast was never a good sign, and while it isn't quite the incoherent, tumour-inducing non-entity of Josh Trank's Fantastic Four, The Dark Tower will leave fans of the novels shaking their heads and newcomers scratching them.

The final result is a stuttering mess of disconnected scenes loosely held together by a baffling plot that seems to throw in every fantasy element except the magical kitchen sink. We have a western without the West, a fantasy without the fantastical, and a familiar 'Chosen One' thread fronted by a forgettable child actor. In part a sequel to King's novels and an origin story of sorts, The Dark Tower doesn't know what it is, and increasingly throughout the film it feels as though the studio just stopped trying in the hope that it would eventually make its money back from book fans and teenagers hungry for some fantasy action. Scenes play out with seemingly no connection to what came before and -although I don't know if I was just imagining it or simply looking for something to distract my attention from the sheer tedium of the plot - actors' lips seemed to have been altered by CGI as the script was re-written after scenes were shot. You may also find yourself jolting awake every 5 minutes at the sound of Idris Elba's magical guns.

Eleven year-old Jake Chambers (Tom Taylor) possesses the 'Shine', a power of shady definition but one which allows him to subconsciously peer into other worlds. In his dreams, he has visions of a giant dark tower, an evil man in dressed in black intent on bringing down the tower, and a mysterious gunslinger. He draws his visions and hangs them on his bedroom wall, so naturally his mother and douchebag stepfather think he's crazy and arranges for him to spend some time away in a psychiatric facility. He runs away to find a building from his dreams (which just happens to be in his home city of New York), and finds a portal which transports him to the apocalyptic wastelands of Mid-World. There, he quickly encounters the gunslinger from his dreams: A man named Roland Deschain (Elba) who is part of an ancient order of knights who carry out justice with guns forged from Excalibur. He is also visited by the man in black, a sorcerer named Walter Padick (Matthew McConaughey) who aims to harness children's screams in order to topple the Dark Tower holding all the worlds together.

When the film isn't trying to explain everybody's backgrounds to the audience through endless exposition, it expects us to simply accept this nonsense. I haven't read King's books, but it carries a reputation as being a complex and detailed piece of work requiring audience investment to drink in its slow-build approach. Arcel's movie opts to cram as much as it can into just 95 minutes, without dedicating anywhere near enough time to properly explain the universe's mythos. For a film so short and convoluted, it's almost impressive how boring it manages to be. Elba, like he does in most franchise-building, big-budget affair, seems to huff his way through the film with his eyes half-closed as though he is waiting for his next 'serious' project. McConaughey at least injects some energy into his poorly-developed bad guy, although he may just be happy he's not making horrible rom-coms anymore. It's scant praise for a movie that feels nothing like a final product, and more like a bunch of outtakes found in a bin and glued together with Pritt Stick by a janitor with a penchant for generic fantasy CGI.


Directed by: Nikolaj Arcel
Starring: Idris Elba, Matthew McConaughey, Tom Taylor, Katheryn Winnick, Jackie Earle Haley
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,249: 'Terror in a Texas Town' (1958)

While the eye-catching poster promises "Iron Hooked Fury!" and pitting a harpoon against a six-gun, the curiously forgotten B-movie western Terror in a Texas Town, directed by Joseph H. Lewis, is a positively downbeat little movie. Starting with a handsome, square-jawed hero walking into battle with a clad-in-black gunslinger, it appears at first glance that we are on familiar ground. But the film then flashes back, and all the western tropes we had been expecting are subtly subverted, similar in many ways to Nicholas Ray's groundbreaking masterpiece Johnny Guitar four years previous. The screenwriter is credited as Ben Perry - a name you'll likely be unfamiliar with. Yet this was in fact a front for Dalton Trumbo, the great Oscar-winning writer who was then under scrutiny from Senator McCarthy and blacklisted from Hollywood. With this knowledge, the oddness of Terror in a Texas Town suddenly makes sense.

In the - you guessed it - small Texas town of Prairie City, the hard-working farmers earning little from their land are struggling to fight off the advances of the unscrupulous land baron McNeil (Sebastian Cabot), who is using his wealth and influence to buy up the whole area for reasons not immediately clear. Some of the townsfolk are playing hard-ball, refusing to give their homes and livelihood to a man they never see. So McNeil brings in tough-as-nails gunslinger Johnny Crale (an outstanding Nedrick Young), a broken career-criminal who is happy to caress his pistol whenever a deal doesn't go his way. He murders Swede Sven Hansen (Ted Stanhope) when he refuses to sign a contract. A day later, his sailor son George (Sterling Hayden) arrives to greet the father he hasn't seen in over a decade, only the learn of his murder and that the land left to him is now the property of a greedy businessman.

It quickly becomes clear that the hero-versus-villain showdown the opening scene promised us will be nothing like we expected. The dashing American hero is in fact an immigrant without the skills of a quick-draw or the wits to take on McNeil on his own, and the black leather-donning Crale may just be in the midst of developing a conscience after years of killing and the loss of his gun hand. What makes Terror in a Texas Town so interesting is the way it merely hints at the two central characters' personalities and past, leaving these could-be archetypes as intriguing enigmas. Trumbo makes a point of highlighting the ranchers' ignorance of McNeil's Machiavellian role in the events, choosing instead to focus their hatred on the muscle. It isn't difficult to imagine that Trumbo's exile and unforgivable treatment at the hands of his own country didn't influence this apparently off-the-conveyor-belt B-picture. It has been unfairly forgotten by the decades, but Terror in a Texas Town is ripe for re-discovery as one of the strangest and most compelling westerns American has ever produced.


Directed by: Joseph H. Lewis
Starring: Sterling Hayden, Nedrick Young, Sebastian Cabot, Carol Kelly, Eugene Mazzola
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,143: 'The Magnificent Seven' (2016)

Movie fans were predictably up in arms when the announcement was made that John Sturges' beloved 1960 action western The Magnificent Seven was to be remade by Antoine Fuqua, a director who has arguably only made one decent film in his career. Familiar claims of Hollywood running out of ideas and calls for the 'classics' to be left well and truly alone echoed across internet message boards, despite remakes having existed since cinema began and the fact that Sturges' film was itself a remake of Akira Kurosawa's samurai masterpiece Yojimbo (1961). The resulting movie is a perfectly enjoyable and action-packed couple of hours, although ironically lacking in magnificence. The Adequate Seven would have been a more appropriate, albeit less catchy, title.

Fuqua's film treads much of the same ground as Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Robert Vaughan et al did fifty-odd years ago. Denzel Washington takes on the role Brynner previously embodied, and he strikes a cool and formidable figure as Chisolm, despite sticking out like a sore thumb in the post-Civil War Wild West (although nobody brings it up). He is approached by the beautiful widower Emma Cullen (Haley Bennett) to help save her town from feudal landowner Bartholomew Bogue (Peter Sarsgaard) and his small army of enforcers, who have just murdered Emma's husband. Either for the bag of gold on offer or just for the sake of doing the right thing, Chisolm agrees to take the job, and begins recruiting his own gang of former acquaintances, lovable rogues and dangerous outlaws.

Hollywood finally seems to be catching up with the ethnic diversity so prominent in the U.S., and The Magnificent Seven reflects this wonderfully. As well as casting a black lead relatively unheard of in the genre, Chisolm rounds up Mexican Vasquez (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo), Korean knife-expert Billy Rocks (Byung-hun Lee) and, after befriending him by eating the heart of slain beast, also brings in Native American Red Harvest (Martin Sensmeier). Making up the rest of the group are Josh Faraday (Chris Pratt doing his best impression of Star Lord), a cocky gambler with the gift of the quick draw; Goodnight Robicheaux (Ethan Hawke), an alcoholic former soldier with a shaky hand and shakier nerves; and Jack Horne (Vincent D'Onofrio), the hulking, grey-haired, God-fearing frontiersman who is given the role of comic relief.

For most of its 2 hour 13 minute running time, The Magnificent Seven struggles to decide what kind of film it wants to be. On one hand, it's a western in the classic mould, all thigh-slapping and talkin' tough. Yet with the many over-the-top set-pieces on show, it also seems to have aspirations to be a shut-down-your-brain blockbuster, even pitting Red Harvest one-on-one against the bad guys' Native American in what is the movie's most ridiculous scene. It also hints at deeper ideas, and touches on themes of race with the lightest of brushes, just enough to make you ponder how good this film really could have been given the cast at the director's disposal. If it's an entertaining slice of action complete with strong performances across the board, then this certainly delivers. However, if you're looking for an absorbing genre piece and one that justifies its own existence, then you may become frustrated with Sargaard's sleepy-eyed scenery chewing. Insert pun on title here.

Directed by: Antoine Fuqua
Starring: Denzel Washington, Chris Pratt, Ethan Hawke, Haley Bennett, Vincent D'Onofrio, Byung-hun Lee, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo, Martin Sensmeier, Peter Sarsgaard
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,132: 'The Proposition' (2005)

Visceral, unrelenting and poetic, John Hillcoat's masterful and incredibly underrated western filters the work of Sergio Leone and Sam Peckinpah through the distinctive bleakness of the Australian outback in the 1880s. It's a yellow-tinged place, drenched in sweat, stench and flies, where white men are still trying to 'civilise' the wild lands and rid it off the Aboriginal people, and outlaws roam the plains causing destruction wherever they go. Written by musician Nick Cave, The Proposition tells a story of race, class, justice and family in a country as unforgiving and harsh as the men who inhabit it.

Following the bloody massacre of the Hopkins family, Captain Stanley (Ray Winstone), a copper given the task of bringing law and order to the land, corners outlaw Charlie Burns (Guy Pearce), a member of the notorious Burns gang. With Charlie is his younger, simple-minded brother Mikey (Richard Wilson), but neither of the men are who Stanley is really searching for. The big prize is the oldest brother Arthur (Danny Huston), a beast of a man with a reputation so fierce that the natives have dubbed the 'Dog Man'. So Stanley makes Charlie a proposition: find and kill his older brother in exchange for a pardon, or Mikey gets hanged on Christmas Day.

This all occurs in the opening scene, and what follows is a tale of two men questioning their own brand of honour, and a journey into the heart of a country where law and order simply don't apply. It soon becomes clear why Stanley has taken to such desperate measures to rid the world of Arthur Burns: he wants to make the land safe for his wife Martha (Emily Watson), who was also friends with the butchered Hopkins clan. Charlie rides off into the wilderness, where hostilities await him at every turns, be it wild Aborigines, bounty hunter Jellon Lamb (John Hurt), or the blistering heat, relentless dust clouds and swarms of flies that come with the territory. For long periods, not much happens at all, but the score by Cave and Warren Ellis injects a melancholic and haunting atmosphere into these quieter moments.

It's a delicate balance between beauty and horror, and the film does not flinch when it comes to violence. From the opening montage of grisly photographs to the exploding head that will undoubtedly catch you off guard, Cave is eager to establish that this is a world built upon violence and atrocity. The Burns gang seem evil for evil's sake; a product of their environment (Hurt's character calls it a 'godforsaken hole'), and The Proposition is one of a few Australian films to journey into the country's heart of darkness, making it a good companion piece to Wake in Fright (1971). The cast are outstanding, in particular Winstone, who gives Stanley a much-needed humanity, and Pearce, who say little but emotes real pain behind those red eyes and rotting teeth. It may be too much to stomach for some people and too slow for others, but there's also a poetic beauty to savour for those who can stomach the brutality.


Directed by: John Hillcoat
Starring: Ray Winstone, Guy Pearce, Danny Huston, Emily Watson, David Wenham, John Hurt
Country: Australia/UK

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,131: 'Stagecoach' (1939)

Before John Ford's majestic Stagecoach was released in 1939, the western genre was festering in B-movie hell. While we can all now agree that the genre can encompass just about every sort of human experience and underlying theme imaginable, in the 1930s it had become a joke; simplistic and goofy tales of good guys in white versus bad guys in black that were little more than an excuse to deliver an action scene or two. Although he had made a staggering amount of pictures by the time he directed Stagecoach, John Ford left it relatively late in his career to become the lauded auteur he would be remembered as being when he adapted Ernest Haycox's short story The Stage to Lordsburg.

Stagecoach is special indeed. Not only did it revitalise a flailing genre, but it seems to give birth to another - something more classical, thoughtful and mythical. This is, in part, down to the casting of John Wayne as The Ringo Kid, an actor who became so synonymous with the role that he spent his entire career both embracing and running away from it. Already a veteran of around eighty movies made for 'Poverty Row', the still-young Duke was only cast after Ford stubbornly insisted on it, while the studio wanted Gary Cooper. Ford knew he would be a star, and the director certainly gives him an introduction worthy of a screen giant. As we first meet the Kid, cocking his rifle as a tracking shot brings us close to his face, it's inconceivable just how Ford was the only one to recognise his screen presence.

Yet Wayne is only one of a magnificent ensemble of characters flung together in the claustrophobic stagecoach as it heads closer towards towards hostile Indian territory. Everyone on board seems to wrestle with their own vice or prejudice, including effeminate whiskey salesman Peacock (Donald Meek), brooding Southern gambler Hatfield (John Carradine), and shifty banker Gatewood (Berton Churchill). The two largest roles go to Claire Trevor as kind-hearted prostitute Dallas and Thomas Mitchell as the alcoholic Doc Boone, the latter winning an Academy Award for his efforts as the blow-hard whose realisation of his own flaws become his redemption. The two are set on their journey after being thrown out of town by the 'Ladies' Law and Order League' - a group of busybodies who begrudge any sort of moral taint on their town - as Doc cries social prejudice.

The idea of social prejudice being rampant in a country guilty of its own recent atrocities is a key theme running throughout, and Stagecoach is a surprisingly liberal movie, despite the depiction of the screaming Apaches, who play the enemy here. We spend a lot of time with the characters before we get to climactic action sequence, but the skill in which they are drawn and played, along with the fascination of watching these shunned personas unite against a common goal, means it never feels like Ford is making us wait. The Apache attack is a high-speed work of technical brilliance, featuring stunt work so nail-biting that you won't even stop to ponder why they don't just shoot the horses. It's so memorable that you'll forgive the redundant second climax featuring the Ringo Kid's unfinished business with the Plummer gang, and the sentiment that comes with it. Arguably the finest American western ever made,


Directed by: John Ford
Starring: Claire Trevor, John Wayne, Andy Devine, Thomas Mitchell, John Carradine, Louise Platt
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,130: 'Hell or High Water' (2016)

There's a real old-fashioned, rough-and-tumble aura about the opening scene of Hell or High Water, as two bank robbers break into two Texas Midlands banks wearing balaclavas and waving guns before fleeing the scene with dust filling the air behind their clapped-out banger. While the legendary outlaws of the West fled the scene of the crime on horseback and sported much more impressive facial hair, this modern-day, un-flashy heist carries the same rush of crime-fuelled adrenaline as watching the likes of Billy the Kid and Jesse James in countless genre movies of old. Yet while the picture certainly attempts to recapture the spirit of the Wild West mythos, its themes are very much rooted in 21st century sociological struggles.

The two would-be thugs aren't after the cash for the glamour, but instead they are brothers desperately trying to raise the cash required to pay off the bank about to roll over on their deceased parents' farm. It turns out that the quiet, more thoughtful sibling Toby (Chris Pine) is the mastermind behind the series of robberies, which are made extra delicious by the fact that they are robbing the very bank they are looking to pay back. Ex-jailbird Tanner (Ben Foster) seems to go along with it just for the thrill-ride, and although he is sympathetic and dedicated to his brother's cause, he's going to carry out his work with a balls-to-the-wall attitude, as it seems he was simply born bad. The jobs are planned with expert precision; using a different vehicle every time and burying them afterwards, hitting the banks early, stealing only unmarked bills, and cleaning the money in the casino afterwards.

But it isn't long until ageing Texas Ranger Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges) in on their tails. Speaking as though he has a mouth full to the brim with chewing tobacco, Marcus is an old-school cowboy who enjoys making fun of his half-Cherokee partner Alberto (Gil Birmingham) and falling asleep beneath the stars with an almost-demolished eight-pack dangling from the grip. He is also the smartest guy in any room, although his easy-going demeanour means nobody seems to realise. After Tanner makes an improvised smash-and-grab while his brother sits oblivious in a diner across the way, Marcus goes and figures the whole thing out. His un-PC sense of humour combined with Bridges' natural screen presence means that Marcus is a real crowd-pleaser, and a nice counterbalance to the emotional weight of Toby and Tanner's desperation.

I had a new level of respect for Pine after the film, as he is an actor who has found life difficult outside of the Star Trek franchise, but seems to have found a perfect fit in the gangly, stoic cowpoke. Toby may even garner the most sympathy as the father struggling to keep up with his child support as well as trying to rescue his childhood home. Yet director David Mackenzie (Starred Up) and writer Taylor Sheridan (Sicario) work to keep their characters grey, and tell a more honest story of how people react in times of financial hardship. The great enemy here are the banks, eager to swallow up property by the handful as posters offering debt relief litter the highways. It's an intelligent film, and one of many in recent times to react angrily to a every increasing capitalist society. Yet it's also gritty and thrilling, and isn't afraid to indulge in a moment of bad-assery, because after all, isn't that what makes the West so endearing?


Directed by: David Mackenzie
Starring: Jeff Bridges, Chris Pine, Ben Foster, Gil Birmingham
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,090: 'The War Wagon' (1967)

There's a sense of overwhelming square-jawed machismo running through the action-packed western The War Wagon. Playing to the barrel-chested strengths of Golden Age superstars John Wayne and Kirk Douglas, the film goes about its business with a lack of fuss, packing in everything from chaotic saloon brawls, quick-draws and comedy-tinged bickering between its two towering stars, before climaxing with an exciting little set-piece involving the armoured beast of the title. This is the kind of old-fashioned western that inspires comments of "they don't make 'em like that anymore."

Taw Jackson (Wayne) returns to his home town after a stretch in prison. His presence is immediately noticed by corrupt businessman Frank Pierce (Bruce Cabot) who, three years earlier, framed Taw for a crime and confiscated his land in the process. The land turned out to be full of gold, and Taw wants his piece. He plans to steal a shipment of gold being transported in a 'war wagon', a heavily-armoured stagecoach fitted with a steerable Gatling gun on its top, and rounds up a crew of trusted misfits to help him carry out his plan. The final piece of the puzzle is skilled gun-for-hire Lomax (Douglas), the man who played a key role in sending Taw to prison years earlier while in the employ of Pierce. Needing his muscle as well as his skills as a safe-cracker, the two strike up a reluctant friendship and mutual respect, despite their clashing personalities.

Working together for the third time in as many years after In Harm's Way (1965) and Cast a Giant Shadow (1966), Wayne and Douglas have an easy-going chemistry, with Wayne playing the righteous, no-nonsense frontiersman, while Douglas gets to have more fun as the lovable scamp, flirting with anything that moves and leaping onto his horse in various showboating ways. Director Burt Kennedy - who 24 years later would throw cinematic acid in our face with Suburban Commando - has no problem handling these huge matinee idols, and delivers a handsome-looking genre piece. While the film's simplicity and lack of ambition to be anything other than a piece of entertainment doesn't damage the film, it prevents it from being great. But if you're looking for an easy-going 90 minutes, The War Wagon doesn't disappoint.


Directed by: Burt Kennedy
Starring: John Wayne, Kirk Douglas, Howard Keel, Robert Walker Jr., Bruce Cabot
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #992: 'How the West Was Won' (1962)

Very much like IMAX's grandiose stand against the emergence of internet streaming, Blu-Ray and the 'Golden Age of Television', the 1950's saw studios battling against the arrival of a television in every home, and used the likes of 3D and 'Spook Show Spectaculars' to draw the public in. Another short-lived fad was Cinerama, a process of shooting with three synchronised cameras and creating an ultra widescreen effect in the process. It was a headache for film-makers, notably John Ford, and special cinemas had to be built to house the format that required three projectors and a deeply curved screen.

Also like IMAX, Cinerama was intended mainly for documentaries, but its immediate success meant that it wouldn't be too long before studios started to turn to features. The first was The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm in 1962, and How the West Was Won came later the same year. The latter is the most ambitious, telling a story stretching 50 years across three generations and boasting a cast of '24 great stars' (as the poster informs us), taking us through the major events of America's expansion further west and employing four first-rate directors - John Ford, Henry Hathaway, George Marshall and the uncredited Richard Thorpe - to bring it to life.

Whilst the ambition can only be admired, How the West Was Won is a mixed bag. In part a rough-and-tumble, old-fashioned western that offers differing perspectives of America's venture out west, as Henry Fonda's grizzled buffalo hunter Jethro Stuart laments the bloody consequences of the railroad's arrival under the command of Richard Widmark's ruthless and treaty-dismissing overseer, the film also cannot resist the lure of grand song-and-dance numbers, with Debbie Reynolds husky voice and knee-slapping becoming tiresome very quickly. It also keeps the audience at a huge distance, both emotionally and literally. With so much picture being captured, actors are routinely squeezed into the centre of the frame with their facial expressions too far away to see.

Broken up into 5 segments - The Rivers, The Plains, The Civil War, The Railroad and The Outlaws - we follow the Prescott family, led at first by Zebulon (Karl Malden), as they head for the frontier and encounter mountain man Linus Rawlings (a woefully miscast James Stewart). Rawlings falls for eldest daughter Eve (Carroll Baker), and the family spread out from there. Hathaway directs three of the five, with the best being the Outlaws section, which pits George Peppard's Zeb Rawlings. a marshal, against bandit Charlie Gant (Eli Wallach), and delivers a set-piece on top of moving train which is as technically impressive as anything made today (a stunt-man almost died during the filming).

Ford's Civil War segment is the slightest but offers an interesting insight into the war. In one fantastic scene, General Ulysses S. Grant (Harry Morgan) drunkly ponders his effectiveness to General William Sherman (John Wayne) as the young Zeb Rawlings listens, demonstrating Ford's lack of fear in showing a brittler side to a man considered an unshakeable American hero. But Ford and the film in general never really commits to the themes it hints at, and this is ultimately what makes How the West Was Won such a frustrating experience. As the camera sails across modern America before the closing credits, I felt slightly appalled at what had been done to this once-beautiful country but couldn't really figure out if this was how the film intended I feel. As a visual experience, it is truly like no other, but it remains oddly hollow emotionally and thematically.


Directed by: John Ford, Henry Hathaway, George Marshall
Starring: Carroll Baker, Debbie Reynolds, George Peppard, James Stewart, Gregory Peck, Carolyn Jones, Karl Malden, Henry Fonda, Robert Preston, Lee J. Cobb
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #990: 'Bone Tomahawk' (2015)

Although a few recent attempts to re-energise the genre for a modern audience have failed both critically and commercially (Wild Wild West (1999) and The Lone Ranger (2013) come immediately to mind), film-makers still find themselves irresistibly drawn to the western genre, which is so steeped in Hollywood history yet ripe for re-visioning. This year alone has seen Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's The Revenant tell a tale of America's rough fur-trapping forefathers, John Maclean spin a violent love story involving a cigar-chomping outlaw in Slow West, and Tarantino lock eight genre archetypes together in a room for The Hateful Eight.

The most original, engaging and surely destined for cult success is Bone Tomahawk, a western told with a tip of the hat to the John Ford and Howard Hawks classics of the 1950's and 60's, yet with a heavy dose of horror inspired by the grimy inbred/cannibal films of the 70's brought to terrifying life by Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven. It doesn't sound like a harmonious mix, but it certainly is (as long as you have the stomach for it). Opening with a particularly gruesome throat-slicing, author and first-time director S. Craig Zahler makes his love for the grotesque clear from the outset, but then settles down to set in motion a classical men-on-a-mission yarn, only with the knowledge that cave-dwelling monstrosities are the destination.

After butchering and robbing a group of travellers, low-lives Buddy (Sig Haig) and Purvis (David Arquette) stumble upon some kind of sacred burial ground. The tribe responsible make their displeasure at the thieves' arrival immediately known, and only Purvis escapes with his life. Arriving in the town of Bright Hope, Purvis is quickly rumbled as a thief and shot in the leg by sheriff Hunt (Kurt Russell) who, assisted by his back-up deputy Chicory (Richard Jenkins) and the town doctor Samantha (Lili Simmons), imprison him for the night. However, the next morning Purvis, Samantha and Deputy Nick (Evan Jonigkeit) have vanished, with a local stable boy disembowelled and some horses stolen.

In The Seachers (1956) fashion, Hunt and Chicory set out to confront the cave-dwellers (dubbed 'troglodytes') along with Samantha's cowboy husband Arthur (Patrick Wilson), heavily injured with a broken leg, and the bigoted yet brutally efficient gunslinger Brooder (Matthew Fox). At 132 minutes, Bone Tomahawk is mainly about the journey which will take days even if things go to plan, never mind the threat of bandits and whatever the creatures are awaiting them. Zahler's witty script and some great casting choices ensure that their odyssey is never slow. Russell is Russell but he is still great, while Wilson has by now perfected wounded masculinity. However, it's Jenkins and Fox who stand out. Jenkins is a great actor so it is to be expected, but Seth Rogen's sly dig at Fox in Knocked Up (2007) always rang true with me. Here, he carefully treads the line between despicable and cool, making us hate him yet still root for him. Despite being the most disposable of the leads, he is the most interesting character of the group.

After much character-building and obstacles to overcome, the film doesn't hold back when we finally arrive at the end. Without venturing into torture-porn territory, Zahler delivers a series of brutal scenes and delights in exploring new ways to make you wince in horror. At one point, I feared that one male character was about to be raped, but then something even worse and unexpected happens, which is made all the more effective by the absence of CGI. It's enough to delight fans of both genres, and the blend of old-fashioned derring-do and no-nonsense horror makes for the kind of experience genre fans long for. While it may be slightly self-indulgent given the heavy running time, this is only slight criticism of a film that feels like it ends at just the right moment. Injecting new life into both genres, it will be interesting to see where Zahler goes from here.


Directed by: S. Craig Zahler
Staring: Kurt Russell, Patrick Wilson, Richard Jenkins, Matthew Fox, Lili Simmons, David Arquette
Country: USA/UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie