THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD (R) ****

 

Directed by Andrew Dominik. 160 minutes.

Starring Brad Pitt, Casey Affleck, Sam Rockwell, Sam Shepard, Jeremy Renner and Mary-Louise Parker. Released by Warner Brothers Pictures.

 

“When it comes to printing the truth or the legend, print the legend,” goes an old saying that could be aptly applied to director Andrew Dominik’s haunting and hypnotic art western The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. The film, which is as epic as its title, appears to be a Terrence Malick-inspired elegy on idol worship, betrayal and friendship and, most significantly, myth making. And the film features two terrific and very different performances from its two leads – Brad Pitt, playing the aging titular gunslinger as worn down but still wily and world weary but still deadly, and Casey Affleck in a sniveling, creepy star making portrayal of the lesser-known titular character for whom you both feel sorry and not worthy of trust. The film’s other star is the remarkable cinematography by Roger Deakins. Nearly every scene in the movie is breathtaking and could be the single best shot in virtually any other film.

 

At the film’s beginning, Jesse James and his gang, which includes Charlie Ford, brother of Bob, (Sam Rockwell in one of the film’s other strong performances), the slightly scary Wood Hite (Jeremy Renner) and Frank James (a stern Sam Shepard), are planning their last railroad heist in the backwoods of Missouri. Robert Ford stumbles into their camp and unsuccessfully tries to win the affections of Frank before going straight to Jesse, who appears either bemused or tolerable of Affleck’s character, who fawns all over the mythic James. The gang splits up after the robbery, which is brilliantly shot in a foggy woodland area, but Jesse allows Robert to stick around a bit. Much of the film is punctuated by a solemn narrator who describes the characters and their lives but does not give insight to the film’s themes and actions. But Dominik’s use of narration adds to the film’s sense of myth.

 

About that quote on printing the legend. Robert tells Jesse, in one of the film’s more awkward and creepy sequences, about how he has idolized him for years, referencing every Wild West story book and listing off every fact that he knows about the James Gang. But he comes to find that his hero is not quite the mythic legend to which he was led to believe. In fact, Jesse can be outright mean and suspicious. In other scenes, he is unfair and somewhat cowardly himself, shooting several characters in the back and coming close to shooting an unconscious, unarmed man in the head. Later, Jesse puts a knife to Bob’s throat in one scene and teases him at the dinner table in another. Bob comes to find that sometimes our own perceptions of our heroes are better than actually meeting them.

 

Pitt does a great job here of conveying that James is on his last legs in the film. In fact, he seems resigned to the fact that he will one day be caught and appears too tired to fight. That, of course, does not prevent him from sleeping with his gun, making sure his partners do not convene when he is not around and the occasional cold-blooded murder of the men with whom he rides. When the titular scene finally comes, it is not only powerful because we realize that James has realized the harsh realities that go along with notoriety and legendary status, but also because we see the same thing later in the film in Ford’s eyes.

 

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford has been mentioned recently and compared with the recent, solid remake of 3:10 to Yuma as the two films that could help jumpstart the revival of the western genre. Although I certainly hope that is the case – as westerns have the capability to convey so much in their often simple stories – I doubt that Jesse James can do just that. The film owes more to Terrence Malick and McCabe & Mrs. Miller and all of the other revisionist westerns of the 1970s than Tombstone or the other slick westerns that most people reference when speaking of their favorite modern example of the genre. Dominik’s film is, in fact, the best example of the genre that I can think of since Clint Eastwood’s already iconic Unforgiven. The juxtaposition of its wide open spaces and emotionally closed-off characters, its infinite sadness versus its sudden violence and its portrayal of one character’s mythic status versus another’s failed shot at stardom haunts you. The film, like its 17-syllable title, is an ambitious film about failed ambition.