S P L I N T E R E D | L I G H T

It takes true grit to make a western in 2008. The rules of the game are more clearly defined than in any other genre. Every element is a cliché before you start shooting–the veteran lawman, his loyal depute, the eloquent bandit, the faithful horse, the raucous saloon, the hard-traveled whore, the genteel damsel, the cruel Apache, the bumbling townspeople, the stark landscape, the six-shooter, the showdown at noon. But it is not only these set pieces that restrain the hand, themes and plots do so as well. The western must deal in the old virtues, things like justice, loyalty, courage, and honor. Love can rarely be involved centrally. Rather emotions must be involved to draw the heroes into more bleak moral landscapes–to make it that much harder to do the right thing. Every good western sees right and wrong as black and white then paints the town grey and leaves the hero to find the contrasts. These conditions are so restrictive that to work inside this genre effectively demands a mastery of the medium. The past masters were so proficient that making a western in the shadow of Ford, Leone, and Eastwood is like trying to compose epic poetry in the shadow of Homer, Virgil, and Dante. And so, as of late, the genre has deservedly waned in the estimation of the movie going public–there has not been a master since Eastwood made Unforgiven.

I am afraid Ed Harris is not the long awaited messiah, but the co-writer, director, producer, and star of Appaloosa certainly has grit. It is necessary to sketch the field in which he is working because although I cannot call this film great, I found it quite satisfying and enjoyable. Appaloosa stars Ed Harris as Vigil Cole–the veteran lawman, and Viggo Mortenson as Everett Hitch–his loyal deputy. They are a great duo. Very relaxed as a team–and this is crucial to any western pair–they are able to dissipate as many situations with their confidence and sly wit as with their guns. Harris’s force allows Mortensen’s reserve the perfect shadow to play in. Hitch is always there covering the trouble-makers with his 8-guage and supplying the big words when Virgil gets stymied.

In the opening scene renegade cattle baron, Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons), kills three men with little provocation then Cole and Hitch ride into town on cue to set up marshal law and keep the peace. As an opening it seemed a little lack-luster, not because it was ordinary, but because it lacked anything startling. The director of a modern western (or any film really) has about 60 seconds to prove to the audience that they should spend the next 2 hours sitting in the dark. Witness the opening shots of The Proposition–hands down the greatest western made so far this century. The camera is dropped into the half light of a shack as bullets punch holes in corrugated metals all around our heads. Asian whores and the dirtiest cowboys you have ever seen scramble for cover in the dirt while bottles and lamps explode on every table–this film has my undivided attention. On the other hand, Harris’s mundane opening sets the tone for the rest of the film. Every element seems spot-on but a little too familiar to be really arresting.

When we meet Virgil Cole in the opening scenes he is presented as the classic, ruthless, wry, honor-bound, unflappable lawman. Yet when Allison French (Renee Zellweger) gets off the train she turns him into something much more talkative and careless. Although they are still working on riding the town of Bragg, Cole and Hitch end up a bit preoccupied. As Virgil falls (unrealistically, I felt) for this girl Hitch emerges as the real hero. This is probably the best turn of the film, allowing Mortensen to silently steal the show. And this he does by playing Hitch with superb subtlety. Despite his daguerreotype looks, complete with van dyck and symmetrically parted hair, Everett Hitch is the grounding force in the film. Mortensen excels in roles that depend more on his aura than on his lines–consider the way he created Nikolai in Eastern Promises. Here he brings depth to this character that must play second fiddle to a man that is in many ways his inferior. Virgil Cole is an imposing man with more raw talent, but Hitch is smarter and calmer. Hitch keeps his feelings hidden and repeatedly reveals his character by taking the lower place and the long way around, all for the sake of his friend.

In a film that focuses on trust, betrayal, and friendship, the relationships between characters are crucial. Harris brought this out with excellent use of framing. The friendship and exchange between Cole and Hitch was shown in many medium length two-shots of them talking side by side rather than cutting between close-ups of their faces. At crucial moments Harris’s long shots utilized the whole canvas, background and foreground, to show several characters acting at once in relationship to one another. And in the final scene one brilliant shot frames all the major players in descending order of value from right to left.

Appaloosa is really a very reserved film. There were many sequences where I felt the tension could have been pulled tighter by building a little slower and adding a couple more seconds per shot. And the climaxes lacked the visceral gut-punch that a good western’s climax should have. But by taking aim at 50 yards rather than 100, Harris ensures that he hits the mark. This was probably a wise creative strategy. If you are not Leone you had better not try to make The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. In the end I like westerns, and I liked Appaloosa. It is a modest, even-paced, classic western about friendship and honor, I can only wish that it had hit a little harder.