Review #871: 'Westworld' (1973)

The late Michael Crichton was a busy man. As well as being a prolific novelist, he has worked in TV and film for three decades, and had more than a few of his books, to varying degrees of quality, adapted for the screen. Some have been enormously successful (Jurassic Park (1993) and its ongoing franchise), and some have been quite diabolical (I'm looking at you, Congo (1995), the film I was subjected to as a child while my older brother went into the next screen to watch Pulp Fiction). One of his most intriguing ideas was his first stint as a feature-film director, Westworld, the tale of a futuristic theme park turned bloodbath.

Company Delos have created a trio of parks based on celebrated historical periods, in which their customers are allowed to roam freely to indulge their darkest fantasies. Medieval World and Roman World are self-explanatory, as is West World, their most popular attraction. Park frequenter John Blane (James Brolin) treats his virgin friend Peter Martin (Richard Benjamin) to a fortnight of gun-slingin', whore-frequentin' and whisky-drinkin' in West World, where robots disguised uncannily as humans play out their roles as bandits, saloon owners, and various other Western stereotypes. Peter is at first reluctant to get into the spirit, until he is bad-mouthed by the mechanical 'Gunslinger' (Yul Brynner) and blows the dead-eyed cyborg away. His inner primate is awoken, until the robots start to malfunction and begin to hunt every human in the parks.

Although Westworld clearly wasn't written with any sense of grand satire in mind and the film, for the most part, is certainly entertaining, the gaping plot-holes leave much to be explained. The guns are designed not to work when pointed at humans, so they are told that anything goes. Fists-fights and bank robberies are frequent events, so what is to stop someone from being stabbed or bludgeoned to death without the ability to tell human from metal? The men tasked with repairing the damaged and glitch-y robots comment that as the machine were part-created by computers, nobody really understand how they work, and are left scratching their heads as the malfunction incidents rise and rise. It's convenient writing that almost borders on lazy, so it is pleasing that the plot moves at a brisk pace, becoming gradually creepier by the minute.

The film, ironically, truly comes alive when Brynner is on screen. The opening third focuses mainly on John, Peter and various other tourists frequenting the other parks as they arrive with bright eyes, introduce us to their holiday destinations, and set about seducing, fighting, or whatever debauchery they have planned. These scenes are most comical, so the tone shifts significantly when the Gunslinger starts shooting people dead for real. Brynner's stoic, emotion-free performance is chilling, and his climactic face-off with Peter is suitably nerve-jangling. Yet I feel an opportunity was missed somewhat, in favour of a more accessible, audience-friendly movie.. The story is full of possibilities and the ingredients were there to create a darker, weightier movie about a fantastical threat that we ponder more today than ever before, but I found it merely satisfying, greatly improved whenever Brynner shows his face.


Directed by: Michael Crichton
Starring: Yul Brynner, Richard Benjamin, James Brolin, Norman Bartold, Alan Oppenheimer
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie