Firecreek

By the late '60s the Western genre became polarized between the gritty, violent revisionist Westerns of the Leone-Peckinpah school and the cornball reactionary Westerns of Andrew McLaglen and Company (a few outliers like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid notwithstanding). Firecreek (1968) falls somewhere in between, mixing some nasty violence with an old-fashioned plot and legendary stars James Stewart and Henry Fonda. The result is an interesting if unremarkable oater.

Outlaw Bob Larkin (Henry Fonda) leads his scruffy gang into the small town of Firecreek. He finds a near-deserted village of wimps and losers, well-represented by Sheriff Cobb (James Stewart), underpaid, concerned with his pregnant wife (Jacqueline Scott) and eager to avoid conflict. Larkin recuperates in a hotel with a pretty widow (Inger Stevens), while his subordinates - especially Earl (Gary Lockwood) and Drew (James Best) - run roughshod over the wimpy townspeople. When crack-brained stablehand Arthur (J. Robert Porter) stands up to the gang, the crooks finally push Cobb too far.

Critics usually write off Firecreek as a minor work, but it's a perfectly serviceable Western whose biggest sin is unoriginality. Most wags compare the film to High Noon but Stewart fans will recognize elements of The Far Country as well. Cobb doesn't want to get involved in the town's problems, though family obligations and an indifferent, wimpy populace qualify his aloofness: he's more isolated than amoral. Larkin is fashioned as a likeable villain who tries to restrain his men, but his shifts to cold-blooded nastiness are poorly handled. It's pretty obvious where the story's headed, even if specific stops aren't telegraphed, and the story holds few surprises.

Firecreek at least fashions these cliches into something interesting. Calvin Clement Sr.'s script plays as a time-release drama, allowing the tension to slowly boil over. The townspeople are an interesting cross-section of malcontents, from the haunted store owner (Dean Jagger) to the Indian hotelier with a half-breed son (Barbara Luna), and their passivity is more credible than the holier-than-thou hypocrites of High Noon. The outlaws initially temper their rowdiness, but they've soon got the measure of the wimpy townspeople, making a confrontation inevitable. What Firecreek lacks in originality it makes up for in craftsmanship.

Director Vincent McEveety mixed television work with innocuous Disney fluff like The Million Dollar Duck, but does a fine job here. There's some unexpectedly grisly violence, including a rape scene and pitchfork stabbing, and the final shootout is exciting and creatively staged, Cobb blasting his opponents from underneath a boardwalk. Veteran cinematographer William Clothier provides beautiful photography and Alfred Newman contributes a fine score. Even when the story clunks, McEveety's assured direction keeps things on an even keel.

Firecreek's main attraction is its legendary co-stars, though neither is at the top of his game. James Stewart does well with his character's difficult arc: his early scenes as an amiable (if resentful) wimp, his authority represented by a tin star made by his son, aren't very interesting, but his characterization comes to life in the second half. Stewart's descent into anguish and righteous fury is perfectly executed, and we're definitely cheering for him in the final reels as he comes to his senses.

Henry Fonda's career was in the dumps, mixing epic cameos (How the West Was Won) with light comedies (Yours, Mine, and Ours), and one imagines him relishing the chance to play against type here. Unfortunately, Larkin is sidelined for much of the film and Fonda doesn't make his shifts in attitude convincing. His unremittingly evil Frank in Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West is far more effective.

Gary Lockwood (2001: A Space Odyssey), James Best (Winchester '73) and the ubiquitous Jack Elam make perfectly loathsome villains. Dean Jagger (Elmer Gantry) gets some nice scenes, and J. Robert Porter's lamebrained stableboy makes a strong impression before his tragic exit. Among the female cast, Inger Stevens's icey hotelier and Brooke Bundy's trollop are disposable, but the ravishing Barbara Luna, grouchy Louise Latham and Jacqueline Scott steal their scenes. Morgan Woodward (Cool Hand Luke), John Qualen (The Searchers) and Bill McKinney (The Outlaw Josey Wales) pop up in bit parts.

Firecreek won't appear on too many lists of all-time great Westerns, but it's an enjoyable film all the same. Good direction and a fine cast make up for most of its shortcomings.