APPALOOSA (R) ***1/2
Directed by Ed Harris. 114 minutes.
Starring Ed Harris, Viggo Mortensen, Jeremy Irons, Renee Zellweger and Timothy Spall. Released by New Line Cinema.
Now that Clint Eastwood and Robert Duvall have gotten beyond the acceptable age of playing gunslingers, Ed Harris is certainly one of the next in line to instantly come to mind when thoughts of aging cowboys arise. Harris, who directed the solid bio film Pollock, takes another shot at directing with Appaloosa, a leisurely paced, thoughtful western in the style of John Ford’s later films about two hired guns who come to protect a small western town and, of course, get caught up with a woman. The gunfighters are played by Harris and Viggo Mortensen, an easy choice, and the woman is Renee Zellweger, who is not the first to come to mind for this type of film but delivers nevertheless. An even stranger choice is Jeremy Irons as the heavy, although he also pulls it off. Then again, he’s Jeremy Irons. In the film, Harris and Mortensen have been traveling together for an inordinate amount of time, showing up in small towns and fixing their problems a la Kung Fu style. They lay down their version of the law, knock off the bad guys and move along.
Virgil Cole (Harris) comes off as stern, but has a soft side
around the ladies and doesn’t hesitate to ask Everett (Mortensen) for help with
a fancy word.
Appaloosa is not your typical western. In fact, it’s more of a drama than a shoote’m up. Sure, there are gunfights in which two characters meet on the street for a duel. There are slimy villains who get their comeuppance. Virgil is a marshal, so there is the scene in which he converses with Bragg, the villain, who is in a jail cell. There’s a young man who gets a conscience. And, of course, there is a woman who makes the hero reconsider his lifestyle. But Harris is less concerned with a well-plotted cowboy picture, but more of a character piece set within the confines of the western genre. The film moves slowly, but it is not slow. Virgil and Everett reveal themselves in subtle ways, especially one in which Allison accuses Everett of a wrongdoing and Virgil, without much contemplation, makes his decision on the matter, as well as the film’s final sequence in which the two men’s loyalty to one another comes full circle.
Harris is not only a marvelous actor, but also a strong
director of actors. With the cast he has and the material he is using, the film
could have devolved into caricature and cliché, but Harris and his cast resist
such traps. Appaloosa is at its best
not when its conflicts are coming to a head, but when its characters ponder
those conflicts, revealing their true natures. Each performance subtly works in
its own way. In most recent westerns, Clint Eastwood’s brilliant Unforgiven and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford excluded,
characters deal in absolutes. In other words, there are the heroes and the
villains. The characters of Appaloosa have
their flaws, whether it is a question of loyalty, actions of the past, tempers or
rigidity. But that’s the essence of the best westerns – think John Wayne in