Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1972) Part One

7. Junior Bonner

“Straw Dogs” was controversial and that controversy attracted a lot of attention from moviegoers. The film was a financial hit. Sam Peckinpah was once again bankable. As he previously did with “The Wild Bunch” and “The Ballad of Cable Hogue,” the director would follow-up a violent box office success with a more low-key film. “Junior Bonner” would unite the director with Steve McQueen, one of the biggest stars of the decade. However, poor marketing and a limited release meant the film would grab little attention. In the years since, “Junior Bonner” has been reassessed as an idiosyncratic film from one of the cinema's most famous raconteurs.

The titular character is Junior “JR” Bonner. A rodeo rider, Bonner travels the country, riding bulls and broncos at various county fairs all across America. Following an injury, he's broke. As the Fourth of July approaches, he returns home to Arizona. His brother, Curly, is a successful businessman and recently sold the family ranch to a real estate company. His father, Ace, is a cowboy like Junior. He's also an alcoholic, a braggart, and a conman who currently dreams of moving to Australia. His mother, Elvira, is estranged with both her sons and her husband. As the family drama plays out around him, Bonner dreams of getting back onto the bull.

Once again, on the surface, “Junior Bonner” looks like a notable change of pace for Peckinpah. There's no shoot-outs, bursts of blood, or slow-motion death scenes. Instead, the film is a slow paced and low-key character study. The film is mostly composed of its characters sitting around and talking. As in “Cable Hogue,” there are even instances of broad comedy. However, a deeper look reveals that “Junior Bonner” deals with many of the same themes the director has touched upon in the past.

Firstly, the film is a western of sorts. With its cowboys, horse riding, and Arizona setting, it would be impossible not to make that comparison. However, “Junior Bonner' is not so much about the mythic death of the American West. That legend is long dead by the time the story starts. The Bonner family ranch being turned into a trailer park – the conflict of which is shown early on, when Junior's car faces off with a bulldozer – is just the latest example of western legends facing off against modern commerce. Junior and his dad are anachronisms, adherents of a practically extinct lifestyle. The Bonner men's love of the ridin' and ropin' world is directly at odds with the world around them, the main source of conflict in the film. This is not too different from how “The Wild Bunch” or “Ride the High Country” depicted bandits and gunfighters racing off towards their own annihilation. Peckinpah often focuses on men out of step with their own time, aware that the world has little use for them. “Junior Bonner” is just a more mellow story about this same subject.

It's also a story about family. The brotherly bond between tough guys on long missions is another reoccurring element of Peckinpah's films. “Junior Bonner's” more literal blood bond is similar to this as well. Curly's ability to adapt to the modern world puts him in conflict with Junior, the two eventually coming to blows over it. The elder Bonner is a rascal, who's hellraising ways has alienated most of the people around him. Despite that, his wife can't quite let go of her feelings for him. They all have their differences. Yet they are bonded together, by blood and by experiences. This makes even their positive interactions tinged with melancholy, the hurtful memories hard to ignore, but family is still family. The film successfully captures that bittersweet feeling.

Since the film's western heroes have no outlaws to chase or banks to rob, they have to rope calves and ride bulls instead. This places “Junior Bonner” into a genre far more unexpected from Peckinpah: The inspirational sports movie. Junior's adversary at the rodeo is a feisty bull named Sunshine. The bull injuries him at the film's beginning. Near the end, he gets a rematch with the bunking bruiser. It's rare for Peckinpah's heroes to succeed. Yet Junior manages to best Sunshine on his second go-around, sitting atop the bull. The underdog besting the odds and claiming their long-sought prize is pretty common in sports movies though. This odd fusion of approaches ends up working pretty well. If nothing else, Junior has earned his win, after so much failure.

Steve McQueen and Sam Peckinpah are a good match. McQueen's brand of heroism is classically stoic but combined with a more post-modern, and thoroughly seventies, sense of cynicism. “Junior Bonner” is not an action movie, not really, but McQueen brings many of those same qualities to the role. JR usually doesn't say much. The film turns McQueen's trademark quiet act in a different direction. This time, McQueen's soulful blue eyes expresses the character's inner sadness and his nostalgia for a long-passed time. The star's rogue-like charm and rakish grin is also well utilized for a man holding onto whatever fading glory he has left. It's easy to see why Junior thinks of himself as a star, even if that stardom is short-lived and quickly falling out of his reach. It's a good performance from McQueen, who makes the character likable and soulful mostly with his body language and what he doesn't say.

As good as McQueen is, Robert Preston steals the show from him. The former Music Man plays Ace Bonner. Ace is a rowdy fellow. At the film's beginning, he's in the hospital. Being pinned in like this does not suit Ace, so he gripes and hits on his nurse and ultimately leaves early. Soon, he's drinking too much, stealing horses, and crashing local parades. Yet Ace still feels pinned out by the changing world, which is why he seeks the seemingly wild countryside of Australia. Despite his negative qualities, Preston makes the character incredibly charming. He has a big smile and is seemingly always having a good time. It's easy to see why Ace has made so many friends but also why he's alienated most of them over the years.

The rest of the Bonner family is no less defiant. Ida Lupino plays mother Elvira as a strong-willed woman. She learned long ago that the men in her life, including her sons, are always going to do whatever they want. Yet she also projects a sense of warmth, someone who is lovable despite the hardships they've faced. Joe Don Baker, who really seems like he should've worked with Peckinpah more often, appears as Curly, the more successful Bonner brother. Baker also had a fabulous shit-eating grin, managing to make Curly a charming good ol' boy with a keen business acumen. Also watch for smaller roles from Ben Johnson, as a businessman giving offers to Bonner, and Charles H. Gray, as JR's steely rodeo rival.

As a comedy, “Junior Bonner” is a lot less broad than “The Ballad of Cable Hogue.” There's no wacky, sped-up slapstick here. However, the film still got a few laughs out of me. The funniest  sequence in the film occurs near the end. JR ends up starting a rowdy fight at a bar. However, he quickly ducks out, to make kissy-faces at a rodeo groupie. Meanwhile, the fight goes on until the confused band begins to play the national anthem. At which point, the brawl pauses so the cowboys can take off their hats and stand at attention. That's a pretty amusing observation about life in the deep south.

Another decision added to “Junior Bonner's” particular charm. Peckinpah actually filmed the movie in Prescott, Arizona. He would cast many of the town locals in background parts. You can see these folks during the parade, the rodeos, and the bar fight at the end. This adds to the movie's sense of location, making “Junior Bonner's” setting seem more alive and lived in. It also adds a feeling of color. Prescott feels like a real place, with local characters who get into scrapes and adventures all their own.

“Junior Bonner” is most obviously a Peckinpah movie in the director's themes. However, you can occasionally see his visual style emerge. There's no slow motion shoot-outs but shots of the director's favorite tactic is employed during the bull-riding sequence. It actually helps stretch out the suspense during the climatic ride, as it makes you wander if Bonner will successfully best Sunshine. Peckinpah's fast-paced editing is also apparent during a montage, devoted to showing numerous other guys get tossed around by bulls. The camera quickly cuts between the spills, the bucking, and the flashing ride light the signals the end of the round.

Rather improbably, “Junior Bonner” had the bad luck to be released around the same time as several other rodeo-themed movies. The film was released within months of “J.W. Coop,” “The Honkers,” and “When the Legend Dies.” I guess bull riding, for whatever reason, experienced a brief popularity in the early seventies. When combined with a misleading advertising campaign, which sold the movie as a typical Steve McQueen action flick, the low-key “Junior Bonner” got lost in the shuffle. Since then, “Junior Bonner” has been taken in the context of Peckinpah's career. It was the last of his quiet films and it remains a charming, funny, and oddly sweet motion picture. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1971)

6. Straw Dogs

Following the difficult production and underwhelming reception of “The Ballad of Cable Hogue,” Sam Peckinpah was once again on the outs with American studios. But this was the seventies and the auteur theory still carried some weight. So Peckinpah sought better fortune in Europe, making his next movie in Britain. That film would be “Straw Dogs,” his first departure from the Western genre. Loosely adapted from Gordon M. Williams' novel “The Siege of Treacher's Farm” – Peckinpah reportedly disliked the book and only kept the titular siege – the film would match the unlikely feat of becoming Peckinpah's most controversial movie. People debated the movie's worth in its day and, even now, many are divided. Despite this, “Straw Dogs” has gained a reputation as one of the director's most iconic films.

David Sumner and his wife, Amy, have recently moved to her old hometown. That would be Wakely, a small village nestled in an obscure corner of the Cornish countryside. David hopes the peace and quiet of the location will help him with his studies, as a mathematician. Peace, however, is hard to find. Amy receives unwanted attention from Charlie, an old ex-boyfriend who is part of the construction crew working on the house. David, meanwhile, finds the locals hostile. This conflict continues to simmer until one fateful night, when David allows the town imbecile into his house. The man-child is wanted by an angry mob. Sumner, however, becomes determined to defend his home, no matter what the price.

The term did not exist in 1971 but “Straw Dogs” is, nevertheless, a movie about toxic masculinity. The debate centers around whether or not the movie condemns it or halfheartedly endorses it. The latter party makes the following observations. David Sumner begins the film as a stereotypical stuffy academic. He wears glasses. He's constantly tinkering away at a formula on a chalkboard, which he treats as the most deadly serious business. This is in contrast to the hard-working manly men that populate the town. When those hard-skinned guys threaten Sumner's house, he has to learn how to be a tough bastard to survive. You don't have to look hard to find takes on the movie that claims it unironically endorses David's behavior throughout the film. That it's arguing for – and maybe even supporting – an inherent tendency towards violence inside man, like the novel that inspired it.

I see the film as a little more complex than that. David is pretty clearly not a sympathetic or sensible character. He's rude to his wife. When one of the locals kills her cat, he doesn't confront the workers. Instead, he tries to befriend them. Later, he's completely oblivious to how traumatized his wife is, never discovering her assault. In in the last act, he does not attempt to deescalate the violence. He chooses the safety of an unstable and possibly child molesting manslaughter as his hill to die on. As the situation becomes more grave, the film draws a direct parallel between David's treatment of his wife and how her rapists treated her. He slaps her and verbally abuses her. I don't believe we're supposed to like David. Moreover, his decline into violence is clearly not celebratory.

Violence is rarely celebratory in Peckinpah's films. It's just as intense and ugly here as in “The Wild Bunch,” focusing the agony of those injured, how their bodies are broken and blasted. A shotgun blows a huge hole in a man's chest, for stupid and senseless reasons. Later, a foot is utterly mangled by the same weapon. Most notoriously, a man suffers and twitches after a bear-trap is slammed onto his neck. Peckinpah does not revel in violence but shows how awful it is. The film also criticizes macho bluster and the violence it leads to. Among the film's antagonists is Tom Hedden, a belligerent drunk and bully known throughout town for starting fights. Unsurprisingly, Tom's impulsiveness is largely responsible for the violence in the last act.

Yet “Straw Dogs” is still somewhat murky on the subject. The film clearly criticizes men who treat women as property. Amy's assaulters are depicted as gross, sleazeballs who practically slobber while oogling her. Charlie rapes her because he still believes he has some right to her. Tom's obsession with his daughter's purity, and its possible violation, is what makes Henry Niles a target of mob violence. The mob never discovers what actually happened to the girl. At the same time, the film seems to blame Amy and the teenage girl to a degree, bringing their fates down on themselves by teasing the men around them. “Straw Dogs” is definitely against the violent impulses of thoughtless men. At the same time, it doesn't treat women very well either.

It's not impossible to insist “Straw Dogs” is a western of sorts. Transport the setting back to the American frontier in the 1880s and the story would be largely unchanged. Yet the film also belongs to a then very trendy genre. Peckinpah was offered “Deliverance” and “Straw Dogs” is a similar story. It's a film about a very urban outsider traveling to the countryside and encountering unwelcoming, and eventually violent, locals.  This makes it part of the Savage South genre, even if the setting is the British countryside and not the American South. Making David American in the U.K. further emphasizes his status as an outsider. That makes the culture class aspect intrinsic to the Savage South movie even more important. It's not just the difference between cities and the country separating the characters in the film, it's an ocean.

“Straw Dogs” resting inside the Savage South genre also makes it a horror movie of sorts. A dead cat hanging inside a closet wouldn't be out of place in a horror flick made around the same time. The last act certainly resembles the home invasion movies that would briefly become popular in the genre about ten years ago. Peckinpah seems aware of the movie bordering the horror genre. In the last act, he throws in lots of English fog. Combined with the sense of isolation, it creates an almost gothic feeling of dread. Crazed faces emerging from the night, with violent intentions and thrusting rats into a house, is certainly abreast of the horror genre. “Straw Dogs” is certainly the closest Peckinpah would ever come to the genre.

As I said, “Straw Dogs” was controversial in 1971. Released the same year as “A Clockwork Orange” and “Dirty Harry,” it led to debates about the growing violence in films. However, no element of the film remains more controversial, then and now, than that rape scene. It's often been said to be an “ambiguous” rape. From a modern perspective, it could not be less ambiguous. Amy says no. She tells Charlie to stop. He keeps going. Yet Amy clearly still desires Charlie, accepting some of his kisses and embracing him eventually, complicating her feelings about what's happening. There's no complications about what follows. Charlie holds her down so one of his friends can rape her, horribly and graphically. It's a very difficult scene, perhaps playing into awful myths about women being raped “until they like it,” but Peckinpah doesn't seem to have any confusion about what he's directing. The scene is exactly as uncomfortable as it should be.

During the rape scene, Peckinpah cuts between Amy's assault and David standing out in a field, seemingly another illustration of how clueless her husband is. The direction employs cross-cutting like this throughout “Straw Dogs.” As Amy has traumatic flashbacks, images from the rape appear on-screen alongside the church performance she's watching. The director's visual sense is equal parts distant, emphasizing the couple's isolation, but also intimate, focusing on the cramped interior of their home. It grows more frenzied as the film heads towards its blisteringly tense last act. As the intruders force their way in, Peckinpah focuses in on the shattering glass and mad faces. The tension keeps building until that bear trap snaps shut, the last attacker dead.

“Straw Dogs” would see Sam Peckinpah working with a different type of star than usual. Nobody embodies the seventies intellectual, respected screen thespian like Dustin Hoffman. This, of course, makes him ideal for David Sumner, a nerdy man so absorbed in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice how bad things are around him. Hoffman has no problem playing this awkwardness. Even better, once David begins to unwind, he dives fully in on the character's unsympathetic side. Hoffman was not subverting his image. He was simply placing it in a new situation, in a very effective way.

Many modern reviews have suggested that “Straw Dogs” would be a better movie if it was about Susan George's Amy. This is understandable, as Amy is maybe the film's only sympathetic character. She's a woman who wants simple things: A husband that actually cares about her, a safe home, a town where she can walk down the street without wearing a bra and not be starred at by everyone. George gives an understated and nuanced performance, especially once the character is traumatized by her assault. By the way, the supporting cast includes a creepy David Warner as Henry and a blustering Peter Vaughn as Tom Hedden.

Another, less vital source of conversation concerning “Straw Dogs” is what exactly its title means. Peckinpah took the title from an obscure quote from Lao Tzu, about how people are treated by a savage world. It's easier to assume that the title refers to how the townspeople perceive Hoffman's David, as something light and weak they can push around. As for the movie itself, it works extremely well as a thriller. The performances are strong and Peckinpah's direction is taunt. It's also a difficult and unpleasant watch, especially in our current political climate. Having said that, I'd still say “Straw Dogs” is worth seeing, if only so you can get your own take on it. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1970)

5. The Ballad of Cable Hogue

Following the success of “The Wild Bunch,” Sam Peckinpah was in a rare position. He could make just about any movie he wanted. He would use this leeway to create “The Ballad of Cable Hogue,” turning down the chance to direct both “Deliverance” and “Jeremiah Johnson.” Typically, production was difficult. Made on-location in the desert, rain often prevented filming. The cast and crew passed the days inside the local bars and ran up an impressive tab. Naturally, the movie went over-schedule and over-budget. The hectic production would end up burning through all the good will Peckinpah endeared with studios after “The Wild Bunch.” Bloody Sam, it seemed, just couldn't change his hellraising ways. But what of “The Ballad of Cable Hogue?”

In the Arizona desert, Cable Hogue is left for dead by his two partners, Taggert and Bowen. Wandering for four days, Cable eventually stumbles upon a wellspring. Realizing the spring is the only source of water in a long stretch of desert between two towns, Cable immediately sees an opportunity. He begins to charge travelers to drink his water. Cable travels into the near-by town of Dead Dog, purchasing a claim on his little stretch of desert land. He names his claim Cable Springs. Soon, he befriends Joshua, an eccentric preacher, and falls in love with Hildy, a local prostitute. All the while, he plots revenge against Bowen and Taggert.

“The Ballad of Cable Hogue” is a very noticeable change of pace for Sam Peckinpah. Though still falling within the western genre, the movie could not be more different from the films Peckinpah made before. There's an occasional flash of violence, and a dead body or two. However, “Cable Hogue” is not especially concerned with the weight of bloodshed and men waging war on each other. It's more about its characters and the frequently farcical adventures they get up to. It's easily the only Peckinpah movie that could ever be described as folksy or even whimsical.

In fact, “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” is even zany at times. Instead of his trademark slow motion, “The Ballad” actually features several scenes where the film is sped up. After accidentally dropping some rattlesnakes out of a bag, Cable and Joshua make a zippy run for it. Earlier, the philandering preacher comically runs out of a house after the husband of the young girl he's attempting to seduce shows up. By far the silliest scene in the movie is when Hildy rampages through the saloon, after Cable leaves without paying her. She actually kicks a hole in a door. Moments of broad humor like this is probably not what you'd expect from the director of “The Wild Bunch.” However, Peckinpah adapts to the change well, utilizing the broad comedy well.

Even though it is a comedy, “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” contains some not-entirely-serious thoughts on the nature of revenge. After being left for dead, before the opening credits roll, Cable swears vengeance against Bowen and Taggert. His determination to turn his little plot of desert land into a success is partly driven by spite. A need to prove to his enemies that he didn't just survive but prospered too. His desire to take his revenge nearly drives Cable and Hildy part. When the treacherous duo reappears, Cable just about goes through with it. Ultimately, though, he shows some degree of mercy. Though light-hearted, “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” seems to believe that forgiveness is possible, that men can change for the better.

This goes hand-in-hand with the film's eccentric approach to religion. As Cable wanders the desert in the beginning, he asks God for some water. When he finally discovers water, he takes sole credit for it and disregards God. Later, a pious but buffoonish rich couple appear. Joshua is among the least chaste preachers in cinema. He preaches his own version of the Gospel and seems primarily preoccupied with seducing young women. Cable's first coupling with Hildy is interrupted when he hears a street preacher outside the window, distracting him. “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” does not take religion seriously, pointing out the hypocritical men who preach the word and how ineffective it can be when applied to life.

Even in a project as atypical as this, Peckinpah can't help but insert his favorite theme. “Cable Hogue” is yet another movie about the end of the Wild West era. Throughout the film, Hildy says she plans to leave rural Arizona for the urban San Francisco, leaving the untamed west behind. This thread is most obvious in the story's last act. As in “The Wild Bunch,” automobiles are used as symbols of this progress, the onward march of technology that will bring the American West to a conclusion. This is made all too obvious at the very end, when the car accidentally rolls over Cable, killing him. “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” makes its not-so-subtle point clear by having a symbol of modernity literally kill off its fiercely independent protagonist.

My favorite part of “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” is among its most unexpected. Hogue is entranced by Hildy's beauty when he first sees her. However, their initial encounter is just a transaction and one that ends badly. The next time they met, their chemistry takes over. After being chased out of town, she goes to live with Hogue in his desert home. From there, their romance blossoms, shown through a series of charming and easy-going moments. The two compliment each other and their existence together is cozy. It's easy to see why any man would fall in love with Hildy, as she plays by the gorgeous and radiant Stella Stevens. Stevens' performance is funny and incredibly charming to boot.

“The Ballad of Cable Hogue” is a vehicle for Jason Robards, his second western after “Once Upon a Time in the West.” Robards would end the decade a back-to-back Oscar winner. By this point, he was more of a respected character actor than a box office draw. Still, Robards is perfect in the part. His raspy voice is perfectly suited to the frequently caustic and crotchety Cable Hogue. Yet Robards also gives the character a warm side, making him capable of regrets and affections. Though a rascal, Robards makes Cable an immensely likable character.

After Robards and Stevens, the most important performance in the film is David Warner as Joshua. Well on his way to becoming a busy character actor, Warner is memorable as the far from pious preacher. Warner manages to keep the character intriguing and even charming, despite his clear lapse in morality. The scene where he attempts to seduce a grieving girl could've gone into creepy territory really easily but Warner keeps the moment light. Beyond that, Warner also has good chemistry with Robards, the two sharing an amusing back-and-forth, a snide tolerance of each other that soon grows into a genuine fondness.

Peckinpah fills the supporting cast with some familiar faces, including several actors he's worked with before. L.Q. Jones, in his third collaboration with Sam, appears as Taggert, the far more stoic half of the pair of men who betrayed Hogue. Veteran Western performer Strother Martin, who also appeared in “The Deadly Companions,” plays the other half, Bowen. While Jones mostly squints silently, Martin goes for comic cowardliness. Slim Pickins, another legendary western performer who showed up in “Major Dundee,” has an amusing role as a stagecoach driver who befriends Hogue. Interestingly, Picken's brother, Easy, makes his sole cinematic appearance here as the other stagecoach driver.

Another thing that's surprising about “The Ballad of Cable Hogue?” It's practically a musical. Yes, the manliest of directors working in the manliest of genres came close to making a singing-and-dancing movie. Several songs are provided by actor/composer/singer Richard Gillis. The main theme, “Tomorrow is the Song I Sing,” is a catchy and folksy number summing up Hogue's philosophies. Gillis also sings “Wait for Me, Sunrise,”  a more introspective song that scores the film's more melancholic moments. The movie's best musical moment is “Butterfly Mornings,” a lovely sung by Stevens and Robards. Providing the soundtrack to a romantic montage, it's a sweet song that also provides a lot of insight into Stevens' dreams and aspirations.

When released in theaters in 1971, “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” was mostly ignored. It managed to surpass its budget at the box office, though by a fairly small fraction. Audiences and critics didn't have much to say about it. However, Peckinpah would always maintain it was his favorite of his own films. In time, the movie has been rediscovered. It's undeniably shaggy, running far too long at over two hours with a plot that is mostly a series of loose encounters. However, the movie is funny, oddly sweet, and features a wonderful cast. I'd recommend seeking it out. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1969)

4. The Wild Bunch

Following the behind-the-scenes fiasco that was “Major Dundee,” Sam Peckinpah was hired to direct “The Cincinnati Kid.” He was fired after a week. The director's career was in tatters. This is not the last time this would happen. In this sad state, Peckinpah would return to TV. An hour long adaptation of “Noon Wine,” made for “ABC Stage 67,” earned the director some of his critical cred back. This got him hired by Warner Brothers to make a film called “The Diamond Story.” Instead, the director came across a script called “The Wild Bunch.” This is the movie he wanted to make. With the changing cultural norms of the time, Peckinpah was finally allowed to realize his vision of the American West. The result was a film that was immediately hailed as one of the greatest entries in the genre. “The Wild Bunch's” critical and commercial success would ensure Peckinpah's legacy.

A group of men enter a Southern Texas town. The outlaws, led by Pike Bishop, are there to rob the local railroad office. The job quickly descends into chaos, several gang members being killed by bounty hunters. The bunch takes their loot into Mexico... Only to discover their bags are full of useless metal washers. They arrive in a village ruled by the cruel General Mapache, who is at war with Pancho Villa's revolutionaries. Pike's gang ends up working for the General but are soon caught in the conflict. When one of their own is captured and tortured by Mapache, Bishops' gang saddle up for one last march.

“The Wild Bunch” is the accumulation of everything Sam Peckinpah was working towards in his first three features. Many of his reoccurring themes – men on a mission, former friends falling into a conflict – take root here in more meaningful soil. Most pressingly, “The Wild Bunch” is another film about the end of the West. It's set in the early 1900s, instead of the wild frontier days of the 1800s. Technology is marching forward. The men are marveled by new inventions like machine guns and motorcars. Airplanes are referenced, along with the soon-to-explode first World War. The world is changing quickly and there's no place in it anymore for men like Pike Bishop. When they die, the legend of the West might as well die with them.

Yet “The Wild Bunch” is not just bemoaning the death of the American West. It's actively deconstructing it. The outlaws are introduced impersonating soldiers. They then hold innocent office tellers hostage, threatening their lives. It's quickly established that these guys are primarily motivated by greed. The bounty hunters chasing them search dead bodies for any valuables. The point is: These are not the virtuous outlaws of legend. In the course of their mission, they rob a bank, innocent people getting caught in the crossfire. They rob a train, destroying a bridge in the process. Only when one of their own is threatened by extreme cruelty do they march off to honorably die, as much because they have nothing to loose as anything else. “The Wild Bunch” takes place in a hard world populated by hard, cruel men. It is closer to real life than the idealized westerns made before it.

As much as Peckinpah realizes that the Wild West was a rough place, full of hard-asses, he still can't help but get a little nostalgic. As Pike and his best friend, Dutch Engstrom, ride towards Mexico, they reminiscence about their past. Pike talks about the women that he's lost and those that have betrayed him. These events are shown through flashbacks, that roughly disrupt the current story. As if these memories haunt him, intruding in his mind when they're least wanted. Dutch, meanwhile, feels weighed down by mistakes and a misspent life. Both men are wracked with regrets. Their age is at an end and they wonder if it's been worth anything. This is an evolution of the themes of “Ride the High Country” but reborn for a more cynical film, made in a more cynical time.

While the director's themes continue to evolve, “The Wild Bunch” is most notable for introducing the world to the Peckinpah bloodbath. By 1969, the Production Code was dismantled and the director no longer had to restrain himself. The opening shoot-out is still a bold statement. Shots are fired. Huge blossoms of blood spurt from their bodies. They spin, fall from structures, and die in slow motion. The editing is rapid, cutting between the firing weapons and the violence they reap as quickly as the bullets fly. In-between the quick shots of action, the focus is on the actors' faces and the cramp interiors they inhabit. Simply put, nobody had seen cinematic violence portrayed like this before 1969. “The Wild Bunch's” action, especially its quick cutting, still feels thoroughly modern.

Though he would become notorious for it, Peckinpah doesn't just use violence on-screen because it looks cool. Even his famous trademark of slow motion death throes has a higher purpose. By slowing the camera down when men die, Peckinpah forces the audience to consider the agony of the dying. Once the shooting stops, the film frequently focuses on the dead bodies littering the ground. “The Wild Bunch” is a film all too aware of the hideous weight of violence. Men are gunned down, throats slashed, dragged behind automobiles. People suffer. And for what, the movie seems to be asking? Children imitate the gunfighters after the fight is over, seemingly unaware of the awful effects of that violence. “The Wild Bunch” was made during the Vietnam War and Peckinpah's bloody visions were influenced by the war. “The Wild Bunch's” cinematic depiction of violence pointed towards a world where the horribleness of violence could no longer be ignored or sanitized.

At the same time, the action in “The Wild Bunch” is undeniably thrilling. The final battle, the gang's last stand against the General, is certainly one of the greatest action scenes put to film up to that point. It begins in relative silence, one action of swift and definitive violence returned with another. From there, the scene explodes into chaos. There's not a second without the sound of gunfire. One after another, the characters are cut down, their bodies littered with bloody holes. Grenades are thrown, explosions blasting through the fort. The machine gun is utilized repeatedly, spinning around and delivering speedy death, adding even more ferocity to the sequence. It's a powerful and intense climax, one hell of a way to finish up the film.

More than the thrilling and awful ways it uses violence, “The Wild Bunch” is notable for something else. During the filming of “Major Dundee,” Sam Peckinpah fell in love with Mexico. Maybe that's why the movie lingered in the time during its shaggier later half. In its own way, “The Wild Bunch” is a blood-soaked love letter to the same country. Much like in “Major Dundee,” the protagonists spend a lot of time enjoying the drink and women around the Mexican countryside. There's joyous sequences, of guys bathing in distilleries and enjoying the company of prostitutes and otherwise. The film's villain is ultimately someone who abuses the Mexican people. Though he had perhaps an odd way of showing it, it's clear that the people and cultures of Mexico meant a lot to Sam Peckinpah.

“The Wild Bunch” is pretty clearly an ensemble film but two characters seem to emerge as the leads. The part Pike Bishop was offered to Lee Marvin, who accepted but ended up starring in “Paint Your Wagon” instead. As amazing as that probably would've been, William Holden does just fine in the part. Holden brings the gravity of someone living with a lifetime of regrets to the part, while still maintaining a nasty streak a mile wide. Opposite Holden, as Dutch Engstrom, is Ernest Borgnine. One of the great character actors of the day, Borgnine plays Dutch as a similarly hard man. However, Borgnine brings a caustic humor and, more importantly, a sentimental streak to the part. As tough and nasty as these men are, they do ultimately care about each other. They may be the only friends either has left in the whole world.

By his fourth feature, Peckinpah had a few regular players, his own “Wild Bunch” of sorts. This was Warren Oates and L.Q. Jones' third film with the director. It was Strother Martin and Ben Johnson's second. All of them would collaborate with the director again. Of those four performers, Oates makes the biggest impression. As Lyle Gorch, there's something pathetic and almost childlike about Oates. Among the outlaws, he seems to be the most desperate. I also really liked Jaime Sanchez as Angel, the unlikely heart of the gang. His capture is what forces them to come together at the end, realizing that brotherhood is the only thing they have left worth dying for.

Peckinpah's films, primarily being about manly men doing manly shit, have been accused over the years of sexism. The label didn't quite stick for Peckinpah's first three features. “The Deadly Companions” and “Ride the High Country” features complex and considered female leads, dealing with a vicious and unsympathetic world. A clear-headed woman was among “Major Dundee's” most likable characters. “The Wild Bunch,” however, has little room for the fairer sex. Most of its female characters' are prostitutes. Many of them are backstabbers or fools, directly or indirectly harming the male protagonists. In the past, an untrue woman got Pike shot. This is darkly mirrored in the last act, when a hooker shots him in the back. In return, he calls her a bitch and guns her down. It's another example of the harsh world “The Wild Bunch” takes place in but it also points towards the director's complicated feelings towards the female gender.

Upon release, “The Wild Bunch” would make an immediate cultural impact. It would become the seventeenth highest grossing film of the year. It would be nominated for two Academy Awards, for the screenplay and Jerry Fielding's rousing and elegiac score. The critics reacted with praise and condemnation, some calling the film brilliant and others saying it was vulgar. The film would start the modern era of R-rated carnage in Hollywood and filmmakers never looked back. Nearly fifty years later, “The Wild Bunch” still feels shockingly modern and urgent, a powerful piece of movie-making that has lost none of its ability to shock, thrill, and inspire discussion and debate. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1965)

3. Major Dundee

He was only two films into his career but Sam Peckinpah already had a reputation as difficult. On his first two films, he feuded with the producers and the stars. None of these kerfuffle would compare to the disastrous production of “Major Dundee.” Charlton Heston, impressed with “Ride the High Country,” brought Peckinpah on to direct. Supposedly, Sam frequently showed up drunk and treated the crew poorly, infuriating Heston. Heston became so angry at Peckinpah, he threatened him with a cavalry saber. The budget was slashed before filming began, causing Peckinpah to go over-schedule. When it was demanded the film be finished quickly, Peckinpah basically gave up. Heston directed the remaining days. Following a disappointing test screening, the resulting film was re-cut and re-scored against the director's wishes. In 2005, the Peckinpah's original vision of “Major Dundee” was restored and released on DVD.

The Civil War rages on. Major Amos Dundee of the Union army, following a mistake at the Battle of Gettysburg, has been sent to head a prisoner-of-war near New Mexico. Along the way, he discovers a group of ranchers and a cavalry unit that were massacred by an Apache war party. Dundee decides to pursue the Apache chief responsible. He recruits prisoners, Confederate soldiers, from the jail to help him on this mission. Captain Ben Tyreen, a Irishman who joined the Confederacy, is among the men recruited. The two factions argue and fight as they head on their mission, Dundee leading them to Mexico and certain doom.

Reoccurring themes continue to emerge across Peckinpah's early movies. Following “The Deadly Companions” and “Ride the High Country,” “Major Dundee” is another Peckinpah movie about men on a mission. As with both of those movies, their straight-forward quest is quickly complicated. Distrust and betrayal simmers between the men as they travel towards their destination. The movie even features another woman being misused by the men around her, as another example of how harsh the world can be. Peckinpah would more-or-less disown “Major Dundee” but he still rewrote the script, which is likely why his themes continue to reappear.

Another big difference between “Major Dundee” and Peckinpah's first two movies is the reasoning behind the conflict in the group. “Major Dundee” is loosely based on fact, inspired by an incident were Confederate prisoners-of-war were recruited by Union forces to fight Indians. In real life, despite being at war, the different sect of soldiers work together fine. In the film, there is conflict between the Yankees and rebels immediately. Dundee is reluctant to use them, threatening their lives frequently. As they march to battle, the Rebs sing “Dixie” while the Yanks sing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” This characterizes the conflict in a historical light. The eventual resolution, the soldiers fighting together despite their differences, definitely has some sort of significance.

But “Major Dundee” is not really a story about men learning to work together. Instead, it's a tale of a man on an obsessive mission of self-destruction. Both during production and in the years since, the film has been compared to “Moby-Dick.” Amos Dundee is a Captain Ahab-like figure. Both pursue their goal until it destroys them. The motivation is very different. Ahab is driven by revenge. Dundee is driven more by pride, by a need to prove his worth. The story eventually reaches the point where Dundee's original goal is all but forgotten, the leader marching his men towards death entirely because of mistakes he's made. In this light, “Major Dundee” reads as another Peckinpah story about the fragility of the masculine ego bringing death and pain down on everyone around him.

Apparently, the original screenplay for “Major Dundee” was more of a straight-forward adventure story. One of the few things Charlton Heston and Sam Peckinpah agreed on was the need to make “Major Dundee” more of a character study. Heston subverts his status as a heroic matinee idol to play the deeply unglamorous Dundee. He begins as a hard and ornery man, focused solely on his goal and pissing off everyone around him. Soon, his obsessive desire for glory becomes dangerous, leading more and more of his men towards death. Before the end, Dundee even collapses into an alcoholic stupor, forgetting his mission amidst the drink and women of a Mexican village. Heston certainly makes the most of his chance to play such an unrepentant asshole, creating a fully formed portrait of a man who constantly makes the worst decisions possible.

The historical setting of “Major Dundee” casts the typical western troupes in a more interesting light. Among Dundee’s soldiers are several black men. The Confederate soldiers treat the black men badly, as you’d expect, but Dundee isn’t much better. When they ask to join his march, he only allows it reluctantly, showing a clear disdain for the man. Other racial minorities are treated in a way that shows the prejudice of the time. At first, Dundee is similarly dismissive of the Mexicans before being accepted into their community. As for the Apaches, there are two Indian trackers that work with Dundee. Despite them showing their loyalty to Dundee repeatedly, even dying to help him, he and the other men still regard them suspiciously. “Major Dundee” isn’t quite a western that sets out to deconstruct the western setting but it goes further to show the casual racism and bigotry of the time than most.

“Major Dundee” is obviously a deeply inglorious story, about a hard and foolish man courting death for prideful reasons. Despite Dundee obviously being intended as an unlikable protagonist, the film still feels the need to give him a romantic subplot. While in the Mexican village, he meets Teresa Santiago, the widow of a killed surgeon. He’s obviously attracted to her and attempts to form a relationship. They even have a romantic date by a scenic lake. Eventually, he screws up the relationship by drunkenly sleeping with a Mexican servant girl. This subplot ends up contributing very little to the story, causing the film to drag quite a bit in its second half, despite the best efforts of the more than capable Senta Bergan.

Co-lead with Heston is Richard Harrison as Benjamin Tyreen, the Confederate captain that is dragged along on this journey. At first, Harrison’s Tyreen is deeply resentful of Dundee and resist his mission at every turn. As the story evolves, we learn that the Confederate soldier is more reasonable than his Union commander. Tyreen is the one ultimately responsible for dragging Dundee out of his drunken stupor. There’s definitely a subversion of historical perception here, by making the Confederate soldier the more reasonable of the two. What point the film is exactly making there, other than just working to make Dundee seem more unhinged, is murkier. Either way, Richard Harrison is very good in the part, charming and roguish as the world falls down around him.

The film has a large cast and most of the supporting characters don't get much of a chance to define themselves. Recognizable faces crop up in small roles. Slim Pickens appears as a drunken mule packer in just a few scenes. R.G. Armstrong has a memorable part as a minister who joins up with the cause. Warren Oates and L.Q. Jones appear as brothers in the Confederate army. It's nice to see these guys but they aren't given much to do. The rest of the supporting cast is harder to grade. James Coburn is quite good as Samuel, the one-armed Indian half-breed that assists Dundee in several scenes. Jim Hutton has an odd role as the film's comic relief, a bumbling artilleryman that is scorned by Dundee several times.

Supposedly, at one point, the script for “Major Dundee” was more explicit than what could have ended up on screen, with stronger violence and profanity. The film we ended up with was still probably more violent than most westerns made at the time. As Dundee and his company overlook the aftermath of the Apache massacre, we see multiple bodies covered with arrows. Including a dead child, the second such sight to appear in a Peckinpah film. Bodies are strug upside down, the implication being they were tortured before dying. In the later scenes, we see a river turned red with blood. Peckinpah was edging ever closer to making the kinds of bloodbaths he would soon be famous for.

“Major Dundee” is not as sturdily directed as Peckinpah's last two features. The film contains the same contrast between the intimate and the epic that characterized Peckinpah's films up to this point. The scenes of Dundee in his office, interviewing potential canidates for his march feel almost like stage plays. The battle scenes, meanwhile, play out in wide cinematic vistas. However, there are a few shots that are downright shaken, when violence brings out at a fort or on the battlefield. Considering Peckinpah didn't even finish directing the movie, ti's hard to say if he's responsible for these moments.

As I said, Peckinpah would essentially have “Major Dundee” taken away from him. The version that premiered in theaters in 1965 ran 123 minutes – a half-hour shorter than the director's cut – and would be poorly received by both critics and audiences. For years, rumors circulated that Peckinpah's version was a masterpiece, badly handled by a handsy studio. In 2005, most of the missing footage was found and an extended cut – running 136 minutes – was assembled. Considering Sam had been dead for 21 years at the time, it's likely the closest we'll ever get to his original vision. Even in this form, “Major Dundee” is a shaggy film. The cast is strong and the concept is interesting but, in execution, it's an aimless and unpleasant watch. The film is most important for featuring the embryonic forms of ideas the director would explore more freely on his next feature. [Grade: C]

Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1962)

2. Ride the High Country

Sam Peckinpah grew up in Fresno, California. Reportedly, he would often skip school to spend time on his grandfather's ranch. There, he would learn to ride, rope, brand, and hunt. Supposedly, these childhood adventures inspired parts of “Ride the High Country.” The script was originally written by N.B. Stone Jr. The producer, a fan of “The Westerner,” offered Peckinpah the director's chair. He rewrote most of the script, incorporating elements of his relationship with his father as well. The resulting film would be the director's first breakthrough. Some still consider it Peckinpah's best film.

The wild west era is just about over. Steve Judd, a former lawman and gunfighter, arrives in California to take a job escorting a gold shipment down a mountainside from a mining colony. In order to help him, he recruits an old friend named Gil Westrum. Gil brings along Heck Longtree, a fiery young brawler. Gil and Heck conspire to betray Steve and take his portion of the gold but Gil has second thoughts. On their journey up the mountain, they meet Elsa, the daughter of a controlling and religious man. Elsa is immediately attracted to Heck but is already engaged to Billy Hammond, a man living at the mining settlement. Elsa goes with them and marries Billy but quickly regrets it. She leaves with Steve, Gil, and Heck. Billy, however, follows and plans to get back the woman he believes is his.

Only in his second feature, you can already see Sam Peckinpah's themes evolving. “Ride the High Country” shares a few superficial similarities to “The Deadly Companions.” Both films involve a group of men, riding through the countryside with a woman they perceive as more vulnerable. Within both films, treachery and betrayal simmers between the men. Both also feature a pretty uncomfortable attempt at sexual assault, which ends when another man intervenes. Yet these ideas have continued to evolve in a darker and more complex direction. “Ride the High Country” is, pointedly, a story of murkier morality with a more uncertain tone and an ending you can't exactly call “happy.” It represents Peckinpah coming into his own.

“Ride the High Country' begins with Steve Judd riding into town. They're having some sort of parade and, while he waves at the crowd, they boo him. Gil is working a carnival game, wearing a fake mustache and pretending to be a legendary outlaw. The two old friends trade stories, reminiscing about their glory days. Each story has a sad coda, about how that person is dead or that woman is married to someone else. These honorable lawmen are now resorting to transporting gold in order to make ends' meet. Throughout the film, there's this sense that the legendary old west is coming to an end, that the protagonists are relics of a bygone age and will soon be irrelevant. (Casting aging western icons like Randolph Scott and Joel McCrea in the leads was surely intentional.) Thus, “Ride the High Country' becomes the first of several elegiac westerns Peckinpah would make, movies that engage more with the myth of the west and its inevitable end.

From the outside, though, “Ride the High Country” appears to be a typical example of the western genre. This is another story about the camaraderie among men as they go on a mission. There's conflict between the men, as Heck's antics get the others into trouble. He starts a fist fight in a bar and his attempt to force himself on Elsa earns him a beating from both older men. Eventually, the three overcome their differences and begin to feel like brothers to each other. This kind of macho struggle and bonding were commonplace in classic westerns.

However, “Ride the High Country” does not exist in a black and white world. At one point, Elsa says that her father teaches that the world is right or wrong. Steve admits that it's more complicated than that. This line informs all of “Ride the High Country's” world. Though Gil acts as if he's Steve's friend, he secretly plots to rip him off. Eventually, this conflict comes to the forefront, Gil attempting to betrayal his friend. However, the two eventually come together to fight their enemies. This characterizes the morally gray world of “Ride the High Country,” where men make mistakes and don't always do the right thing.

Another theme that develops from “The Deadly Companions” is the treatment of women. From the moment we meet here, Elsa is treated like an object, something to be controlled and traded, by the men around her. Her father is abusive, a tyrant that demands his daughter conform to his worldview. There's sparks between Elsa and Heck from the moment they meet. However, he takes it too far, attempting to force himself on her soon afterward. Her fiance Billy is no less patient. He attempts to consummate their relationship soon after being reunited. This sows doubt in Elsa's mind that grows as their wedding draws closer. The two are married in a brothel, Elsa showing her clear discomfort on her face. During the rowdy after-party that follows, she's nearly raped by both Billy and one of his friends. Judd and Gil then attempt to dissolve the marriage and take Elsa back to her home. Billy's refusal to let go of the woman he sees as his property is what drives the violence in the film's second half.

It's difficult to read “Ride the High Country” as feminist. Elsa is only so proactive, as the men still make most of the decisions. This is ultimately not her story. Heck is easily forgiven for his near assault, still being treated as a hero throughout the rest of the movie. However, the film seems to acknowledge that men, especially during this time period, treated women terribly. That they had thoughts and feelings of their own apart from their husbands and love interests. And, the film suggests, these attitudes might be something else from the old west that is best left behind. This makes the film progressive for its time, when westerns were usually happy to have women be nothing but props.

A story like “Ride the High Country,” about the end of a mythic age, obviously required iconic actors to star in it. Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott, iconic western performers, were obviously up for the part. Interestingly, the actors were originally cast in the opposite roles before complaining about the production and getting switched around. It's hard to imagine it the other way around. Joel McCrea is fantastic as Steve Judd. He has a wry gleam in his smile, making him believable as a lovable old man from a bygone era. However, as the film goes on, McCrea faithfully brings to life someone who is struggling with obsolescence in a world that he is finding increasingly difficult to understand.

Randolph Scott co-stars alongside McCrea, though he got top-billing as that was decided by a coin toss. Scott plays off of McCrea fantastically, the two truly seeming like old friends with a long history together. As the story grows darker, Scott seems willing to embrace the more challenging aspects of the character. Scott and McCrea both formally retired after seeing the film, deciding a film this good was an ideal one to go out on. This only adds to “Ride the High Country's” status as a film about the end of the western era. (Scott's announcement of retirement stuck, as he never appeared in another film. McCrea would come out of retirement for a few B-westerns in the mid-seventies.)

As good as McCrea and Scott are, and they're both excellent, the heart of the movie belongs to Mariette Hartley as Elsa. Hartley projects a vulnerability that makes her believable as the sheltered daughter of a preacher. However, there's also a fiery drive in her, determined to get out from under her father's control and start her own life. Hartley also just has an excellent screen presence, being captivating to the eye. She's also believable as someone interested in Ron Starr's Heck. Starr is very good as well, as a hard man who learns his lesson as the story goes on. This was Hartley's first film and she would go on to a long career as a character actress. Starr would only appear in two other movies and a few more television episodes after this.

“Ride the High Country” shows Peckinpah's visual sense evolving as well. Compared to the flat Arizona desert of “The Deadly Companions,” the mountainous regions depicted here are much more colorful. There's a sweeping scene of scope, as the camera looks out over the rising Californian frontier. Peckinpah also brings an intimate element to other scenes, such as a shadowy and tightly framed scene devoted Elsa and her father talking in the darkness of their dining room. Save for one oddly crop shot – a sudden zoom in on a corpse's body - “Ride the High Country” is an elegant looking film that is fantastically assembled.

“Ride the High Country” was released on the second half of a double bill with “The Tartars,” a mostly forgotten Italian viking movie starring Orson Welles and Victor Mature. The film was released this way because the studio didn't believe the movie cost enough to be as good as it was. It would receive positive reviews from a few American critics but was largely overlooked. It found far more success in Europe, winning awards at festival. (It actually beat out Fellini's “8½” for Best Picture at the very first Belgium Film Festival.) Nowadays, it's recognized as a classic western and the first great film from Sam Peckinpah. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Sam Peckinpah (1961)

From the moment I became a film nerd, I've had a massive amount of respect for Sam Peckinpah. Chalk it up to the evergreen appeal of the incorrigible, rebel filmmaker to the adolescent movie obsessive. Never mind that Peckinpah was as much an abusive alcoholic as a genius filmmaker. Despite my admiration of his work, I had only seen his key pictures. So a Director Report Card focused on Peckinpah allowed me to fill in the blanks and get to know this notorious, groundbreaking director for more than just his reputation.

1. The Deadly Companions

Sam Peckinpah got his start in the industry by writing scripts for TV westerns, something he pursued on the advice of Don Siegal. He would provide screenplays for “Gunsmoke,” “Have Gun – Will Trouble” and “Zane Grey Theater.” He would co-create the popular series “The Riflemen,” eventually directing four of its episodes. After that, he would create the series “The Westerner.” Starring Brian Keith, the show was grittier and more naturalistic than most television westerns of the time. It would be critically acclaimed but failed to catch on with audiences, being canceled after one short season. After “The Westerner's” end, Keith would be cast as the male lead in a feature western called “The Deadly Companions.” He would suggest Peckinpah as the director. This is the unsuspecting beginning of the career of one of cinema's most notorious infant terribles.

Three men come into a frontier Arizona town with the intention of robbing its currently unguarded bank. They are Yellowleg, a former Union officer who survived a scalping during the war; Turk, a former Confederate officer who is a crooked gambler; and Billy, a charming but calculating gunslinger. As they prepare to rob the bank, another gang strikes first. In the ensuing shoot-out, Yellowleg accidentally shoots a dancing girl's young son. Kit, the dead boy's mother, is ostracized by the local community. She decides her son must be buried beside his father, whose grave resides in Apache territory. Feeling guilty, Yellowleg decides to shepherd the woman through the dangerous area. Billy and Turk follow along but soon the agreement between the four individuals turn sour.

Sam Peckinpah did not have a good experience on “The Deadly Companions.” The film was produced by Maureen O'Hara's brother, who bossed Peckinpah around. Supposedly, he prevented the director from changing a word of the script. However, you can still see the emerging director's interest in the final product. Like a few of Peckinpah's later movies, “The Deadly Companions” is about a group of morally gray men leaving on a mission together. The film's atmosphere is unusually grim, as the story revolves around a dead child. A sense of futile dread hangs over the story, as the journey seems more and more doomed the longer it goes on. Though he would disown the final product, some of the themes Peckinpah would develop over his later movies are evident in this debut.

In other ways, “The Deadly Companions” is very much a typical western of this time. The characters begin as antiheroes out to rob a bank, only interested in lining their pockets. As the story goes on, it's quickly shown that Yellowleg has a moral center that his partners lack. By the end, it's thoroughly established who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. The film ends with a confrontation between the do-gooders and the evildoers. And this is, after all, a western that plays the troupe of the savage Indian completely straight. “The Deadly Companions” comes close to being something subversive but is still wrapped up in the cliches and conventions of the time.

I've never seen “The Westerner,” though the show was released on DVD. So it's hard for me to compare Brian Keith's performance here with his role on that series. However, from what I've read, it sounds like the parts are similar. In “The Deadly Companions,” Keith plays an incredibly stoic character. Yellowleg, a nickname gained from the color of Union uniforms, rarely says what's on his mind. There is a certain rugged heroism to Keith's unemotional approach. The slowly revealed moral code is shown in interesting ways, the man standing up for certain beliefs. If nothing else, Keith has the kind of classical screen presence that many old school western stars succeeded on.

“The Deadly Companions” was primarily conceived as a vehicle for Maureen O'Hara. As one of the star leading ladies of her time, O'Hara appeared in quite a few westerns. “The Deadly Companions” would come after “Rio Grande,” “Comanche Territory” and “The Redhead from Wyoming” but before “McLintock!” and “Big Jake.” In this film, O'Hara does well as a woman who is frowned upon by her neighbors but has a fierce independent streak of her own. Her best scenes occur when she points a shotgun at the men who hope to protect her, showing an ability to stand up for herself even when she's grieving.

However, the film eventually attempts to push Keith and O'Hara's characters together into some sort of romance. This seems to be another side effect of the time period when the movie was made. It was just natural that the male lead and the female lead would fall into each other's arms at the end. Even though the two have a somewhat hostile relationship up to that point. O'Hara warming up to Keith is a natural part of the story. However, it feels like they should be headed for a mutual understand, not a full-blown romance. It does not feel like a natural trajectory of the story.

“The Deadly Companions” is a film, more or less, revolving around only four characters. Steve Cochran as Billy Keplinger is introduced as a hell raiser and a rogue. He pulls a gun out in church and happily looks forward to robbing the bank. As the story progresses, Billy reveals a more unpleasant side. Especially through his treatment of Kit. At first, the movie almost seems to be playing his lecherous attitude towards her for comedy. However, that comes to an end during a scene where he attempts to force himself on her. So, yes, Peckinpah's odd and frequently problematic obsession with sexual assault begins here as well. Cochran nicely rolls from slick to villainous fairly easily.

Another odd example of comic relief in the film is Chill Wills as Turk, the gambler. Wills mumbles through most of his dialogue. He's frequently difficult to understand at all. The character also seems to be an attempted source of comic relief. He's somewhat ridiculous, introduced in a noose and balanced atop a barrel. Turk seems to be intoxicated for most of the story. He responds to Cochran's barbs in a frequently glib manner, when you can actually tell what he's saying. Wills certainly gives an interesting performance but it's a very odd character, one that is hard to read both literally and figuratively.

In the lead-up to the quartet leaving on their journey, we hear a lot of references to how dangerous Apache country is. As the gang begins their journey, they see arrows littering the ground. However, this subplot doesn't pay off in a very satisfying fashion. As their mission becomes more grim, Keith and O'Hara are eventually stalked by one Apache brave on a horse. Just one. And the reason he's trailing them doesn't seem to be more complex than them being white intruders on Indian land. This subplot is then resolved bluntly before being completely forgotten in the final third of the film. It's disappointing that more isn't done with that angle, considering “women being led through dangerous territory” seems to be the capsule synopsis of the movie.

In fact, “The Deadly Companions” really gets messy in its last act. The story becomes a bit shapeless, as Yellowleg and Kit encounter more misfortune on their journey towards the cemetery. Upon finally reaching the graveyard, there's a long scene devoted to the two of them looking for her husband's grave. At that point, Billy and Turk wander back into the story, leading to the necessary showdown between heroes and villains. The film then wraps up with an overly tidy resolution about the price of revenge, also resolving Yellowleg's character arc in far too smooth a fashion.

Even this early in his career, even on a work-for-hire job like this, you can see Sam Peckinpah's visual sense developing. From the beginning, there's a sense of isolation as the characters stand against the huge blue sky and empty Arizona desert. That alienated feeling only grows as the cast ventures further out. There's also a few really cool, surprisingly fluid tracking shot. Such as one devoted to the men on their horses, tracking across a lake. Or another, focused on Keith as he marches towards Cochran for the final showdown. It's clear that Peckinpah knows what he's doing.

“The Deadly Companions” would be a largely negative experience for Sam Peckinpah. He fought frequently with the producer. In her autobiography, Maureen O'Hara said Peckinpah was “the strangest and most objectionable person she ever met.” Yet the debut would eventually prove to be a positive one for the young director. After the difficult experience, Peckinpah decided that he would never make a movie unless he had control over the screenplay. As it stands now, “The Deadly Companions” is an occasionally interesting film, with darker themes than you'd expect for the time and place. It doesn't quite hold together as a whole but, even outside its status as Peckinpah's debut, is sort of engrossing. [Grade: B-]