Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid

Perhaps even more than the infamous Major Dundee, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973) is touted by Sam Peckinpah fans as a lost masterpiece, ruined by studio interference. This is certainly valid to an extent, especially given the cruel cutting and micromanaging wrought by MGM's James Aubrey, but on the other hand Peckinpah himself brought on many of his through his excesses of drink and drugs. The result is this curious, interesting but unsatisfying film, which is great at times but never quite the sum of his parts; it's Peckinpah's most schizophrenic film, alternating scene to scene from brilliant to indifferent to outright bad.

In early 1881, Pat Garrett (James Coburn), an aging outlaw, is elected Sheriff of Lincoln County, New Mexico. He is pressured by Governor Lew Wallace (Jason Robards) and business interests to track down former partner William H. Bonney, alias Billy the Kid (Kris Kristofferson) and his gang. Bonney is captured but escapes, killing two deputies (Matt Clark and R.G. Armstrong), and Garrett - accompanied by several reluctant and generally short-lived deputies (Slim Pickens, Katy Jurado, Jack Elam, Richard Jaeckel) and one hired to keep an eye on Garrett (John Beck) - is forced to track down his former friend, decimating his gang in the process. Garrett is made to feel guilty over "getting fat" and betraying Billy, and when he finally confronts the Kid, it seems like he's killing himself.

The biggest problem with Pat Garrett, even in its "preview cut" form (I'm not touching the God awful 2005 edit with a ten-foot stick), is that it's unfocused and virtually plotless; only a few characters appear for more than one or two scenes, and most scenes play as isolated episodes. It is also a surprisingly distant film, especially compared to Ride the High Country and The Wild Bunch, and it's virtually impossible (for this writer at least) to become deeply involved in the story. Billy in particular is hard to care much about, as he does little more than drink, kill, and whore throughout the course of the film, with only the thinnest and most facile motivation given to his actions. And the theme that Garrett and Co. are selling out is expounded upon so often that you think Rudy Wurlitzer was getting paid for each time he wrote them.

The film's use of various Western icons in various bit parts actually (with a few exceptions) undermines what Peckinpah is trying to achieve; by not letting us get to know these characters, it becomes virtually impossible to sympathize with them. Slim Pickens' famous death scene is allegedly the most poignant and moving scene in the film, but as we just met him two minutes ago when he buys it, it's hard, for me anyway, to care what happens to him. One might argue that Pickens' own iconography and backstory bring weight to the character, but I'm not buying it; Once Upon a Time in the West employs a similar strategy in employing Henry Fonda, Jack Elam and Woody Strode as villains, but on the other hand the film works on its own terms. If this argument has any validity, it's saying that Pat Garrett is basically an in-joke for Western buffs - and I don't buy that as much of an argument.

Some cast members are outright terrible: John Beck is obnoxious as Poe, and while that's appropriate to the character he grates on the viewer's nerves. A very young Charles Martin Smith whines his way through the opening scene as a particularly obnoxious cohort of Billy's. Emilio Fernandez, so effective as General Mapache, has a worthless role as Paco, the Mexican sheep-farmer who befriends Billy, and his scenes are some of the worst Peckinpah ever filmed. Richard Jaeckal gives a wooden performance and his horrible-looking wig doesn't help matters. But most of the cast members simply aren't around long enough to make much impact - Pickens, Jurado, Paul Fix, Dub Taylor, Elisha Cook Jr., Jason Robards, and Barry Sullivan (among many others) are all in the film for five minutes or less, just long enough for a viewer to recognize them before they bow out. Bob Dylan's bit has little impact on the film; his twanging, whining, droning music, however, is borderline terrible. It might be good outside of the film, but for the most part it distracts from the action and makes the film periodically insufferable.

The film does, however, have sporadic moments of brilliance, starting with James Coburn's performance as Garrett. Coburn gives the best performance of his career, as the sarcastic, biting, fatalistic Garrett. He is a nice counterpart to Deke Thornton, but even more compromised and fatalistic. Garrett genuinely regrets most of his actions - many of his confrontations with Billy's gang are outright murder - but does them anyway, driven by a cruel sense of duty and inevitability; he knows that times are passing him by but does his best to stay alive, regardless of the cost. Coburn is wonderfully subtle and you believe he IS Garrett, rather than acting the part. Kris Kristofferson is good if unremarkable as Billy, though he can hardly be blamed for the poor interpretation of his character. And there are some members of the supporting cast who are effective: Richard Bright and L.Q. Jones as two of Billy's more colorful gang members, R.G. Armstrong, playing the psychopathic Deputy Ollinger ("Repent, you son of a bitch!"), and Chill Wills as a gutter-mouthed, shotgun-toting bartender.

Peckinpah's direction is sporadically brilliant. The shootouts of the film are blunt and violent and lack the visceral thrill of The Wild Bunch's blood-soaked massacres. This is not a criticism; in fact, it is very effective. The film's art direction is wonderfully authentic; the whole film has a rustic, lived-in, worn-out look that adds immeasuribly to the film's depressed atmosphere. There are some truly brilliant sequences sprinkled throughout; the shootout at Billy's hideout and Billy's escape from jail, the chance encounter and duel between Billy and Alamosa Bill (Jack Elam), Garrett's "shootout" with a river barge, the slow, methodical murder of Holly (Bright) by Garrett, Peckinpah's cameo as a coffin maker, Garrett shooting a mirror after killing the Kid. All of these scenes individually are among the best work Peckinpah has ever done; it's shame they don't gel into a more pleasing whole.

Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is a difficult and frustrating film to write about. For every good scene there's one that makes you scratch your head and ask "What the hell's going on?" It's a good film with occasionally great scenes, but it's far from a masterpiece.

Rating: 7/10 - Recommended