I wonder if director Pekinpah didn't find himself in a liminal state when he directed this first feature -- somewhere between the strictures of the television Western series like "The Rifleman" and the wildly expressive feature films that were to come.
A trio of would-be bank robbers ride into an uptight little Western town and the leader, Brian Keith, shoots and kills Maureen O'Hara's little boy. O'Hara, despised as a "dance hall girl", is determined to see her boy buried with his father in a crumbling and deserted adobe village on the other side of Apache country. Out of guilt, Keith decides to accompany her, dragging his two reluctant, low-life compañeros along. One of them, Steve Cochran, dressed in black and accessorized in red and white, is a cocky gunslinger. The other, Chill Wills, in a bulky, ratty buffalo robe, is completely daft.
Brian Keith is the leader and the hero but he smacks of the small screen. He's taciturn, determined, grim, dignified, decent. Just like Chuck Connors in "The Rifleman" or Marshal Dillon in "Gunsmoke." That's the pattern that Pekinpah was leaving behind. Other hallmarks appear briefly -- cruel children, a community ritual interrupted by hooligans, residual Civil War resentments.
The Pekinpah that was to come is represented by Cochran and Wills. Cochran is a little treacherous, but Wills, having gotten his hands on that bank money, is determined to establish his own kingdom in Apache country, just like those Texas fellers at the Alamo or the Fredonian Rebellion. "I got me this general's cap to wear and we'll have lots of gold braid." He's entirely serious, just like the the Hammond brothers, who believe in polyandrous marriages, in "Ride the High Country." Keith can be an appealing actor but he's not given much to do except play the stereotype. And he's not a convincing drunk. Cochran is as slimy as he usually is, and Wills looks positively flea ridden, a big, shaggy, cheerfully lunatic dog.
Maureen O'Hara -- whose brothers appear as producer and undertaker -- was forty and mostly miscast. She's all gussied up at the beginning as a whore, and looks not so hot. And for the first hour or so, her character is angry and bitter, and that's not Maureen O'Hara's shtick. She's marvelous when she plays herself, chipper, unpretentious, and no nonsense. Later, on the trail, she's dusty and disheveled. The war paint is gone. Her mature but fresh beauty is more evident and she gets to deploy an enthralling smile.
Overall, the story has a lot of loose ends and meanders all over the place. It's pretty dull until the climax finally brings about some resolutions. When the duo are alone, buggylugging that coffin across the desert, the movie looks like a dramatization of someone preparing a Swanson's frozen dinner.
A trio of would-be bank robbers ride into an uptight little Western town and the leader, Brian Keith, shoots and kills Maureen O'Hara's little boy. O'Hara, despised as a "dance hall girl", is determined to see her boy buried with his father in a crumbling and deserted adobe village on the other side of Apache country. Out of guilt, Keith decides to accompany her, dragging his two reluctant, low-life compañeros along. One of them, Steve Cochran, dressed in black and accessorized in red and white, is a cocky gunslinger. The other, Chill Wills, in a bulky, ratty buffalo robe, is completely daft.
Brian Keith is the leader and the hero but he smacks of the small screen. He's taciturn, determined, grim, dignified, decent. Just like Chuck Connors in "The Rifleman" or Marshal Dillon in "Gunsmoke." That's the pattern that Pekinpah was leaving behind. Other hallmarks appear briefly -- cruel children, a community ritual interrupted by hooligans, residual Civil War resentments.
The Pekinpah that was to come is represented by Cochran and Wills. Cochran is a little treacherous, but Wills, having gotten his hands on that bank money, is determined to establish his own kingdom in Apache country, just like those Texas fellers at the Alamo or the Fredonian Rebellion. "I got me this general's cap to wear and we'll have lots of gold braid." He's entirely serious, just like the the Hammond brothers, who believe in polyandrous marriages, in "Ride the High Country." Keith can be an appealing actor but he's not given much to do except play the stereotype. And he's not a convincing drunk. Cochran is as slimy as he usually is, and Wills looks positively flea ridden, a big, shaggy, cheerfully lunatic dog.
Maureen O'Hara -- whose brothers appear as producer and undertaker -- was forty and mostly miscast. She's all gussied up at the beginning as a whore, and looks not so hot. And for the first hour or so, her character is angry and bitter, and that's not Maureen O'Hara's shtick. She's marvelous when she plays herself, chipper, unpretentious, and no nonsense. Later, on the trail, she's dusty and disheveled. The war paint is gone. Her mature but fresh beauty is more evident and she gets to deploy an enthralling smile.
Overall, the story has a lot of loose ends and meanders all over the place. It's pretty dull until the climax finally brings about some resolutions. When the duo are alone, buggylugging that coffin across the desert, the movie looks like a dramatization of someone preparing a Swanson's frozen dinner.