The Bravados

In 1950, director Henry King teamed up with Gregory Peck on The Gunfighter (1950), a seminal Western that helped launch the psychologically-complex, hard-edged "adult Western" trend of the '50s. In 1958, the two reteamed on The Bravados. Despite a share of faults, it's a remarkably grim and nihilistic oater with a twist that's a real kick in the gut.

Embittered rancher Jim Douglass (Gregory Peck) turns up in the border town of Arriba. He's been relentlessly tracking the four men who murdered his wife, and is eager to see them hanged. But before their execution, the four prisoners (Stephen Boyd, Henry Silva, Albert Salmi and Lee Van Cleef) bust out of jail, taking the daughter (Kathleen Gallant) of a shopkeeper hostage. Douglass leads a manhunt across the Southwest and over the Mexican border, but begins to doubt whether he's pursuing the right perpetrators.

The Bravados starts out like almost any other Western, with a revenge motive borrowed from a million oaters from Stagecoach through The Man From Laramie. The seemingly rote story lulls the audience into a false sense of security (as does the overlong and draggy introduction); once the main story, the movie proves remarkably bleak and violent, with grisly, pointless killings, an off-screen rape and a general atmosphere of despair. Douglass's killing of gang member Parral (Van Cleef) provides the film's highpoint, with King presenting it as a brutal summary execution rather than justice being done. Aside from The Ox-Bow Incident and Fritz Lang's Fury, this may be Hollywood's most straightforward condemnation of vigilante justice, a concept generally endorsed by an endless glut of action films, Westerns and crime sagas.

The Bravados builds up to its twist with remarkable economy and force. Doubts begin to fester as Douglass fails to achieve satisfaction: his query all express bafflement at his moment of triumph, revealing a pocket watch with a portrait of his wife, and tracking the baddies down becomes a matter of grim principle more than righteousness. King doesn't justify or excuse Douglass's act, and neither does he, though some viewers may argue that the thugs are bad enough on their own. The film soft-pedals the bleakness with its constant religious themes and church scenes, as if to assure audiences (and the old fogies at the Hayes Office/Legion of Decency) that everything will be alright. This marks The Bravados as very much of its time, but the twist still leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.

King's direction is quite striking, with beautiful Cinemascope photography and excellent use of Mexican locations. The film is slow out of the starting gate, with a needlessly protracted intro in Arriba, but moves well-enough once the main story kicks into gear. The film has a clear influence on a generation of revisionist Westerns, most notably on several Spaghettis: Sergio Leone's For a Few Dollars More in particular borrowed several key motifs, including the revenge theme and musical pocket watch (and Lee Van Cleef), and Sergio Sollima's The Big Gundown made use of the "wrong man" storyline.

Gregory Peck is in top form, convincingly tormented and angst-driven. James Stewart or Randolph Scott might have been a better fit for the neurotic Douglass, but Peck acquits himself surprisingly well. Joan Collins is pretty but ill-used; Kathleen Gallant fares far better as the damsel in distress turned avenging angel. The quartet of bad guys are an interesting bunch, with Stephen Boyd (Ben-Hur) unusually charismatic and Lee Van Cleef (Death Rides a Horse) in his best pre-Spaghetti role. Replacement Stooge Joe DiRita ("Curly Joe") has a small but crucial bit.

The Bravados is a fine Western, and certainly one of the bleakest you're likely to see. It's often said revenge is a dish best served cold, but King convincingly argues it's best not served at all.