Warlock (1959)

The '50s saw the emergence of the so-called "adult Western," oaters which place characterization and thematic baggage ahead of action. Edward Dymytryk's Warlock (1959) is a typical example. Long on ponderous talk, it's been subjected to more psycho-sexual dissection than any Western save Nicholas Ray's Johnny Guitar. The movie's interesting even if it doesn't quite hang together.

Warlock is a mining town terrorized by Abe McQuown (Tom Drake) and his gang. After McQuown's boys run Warlock's marshal (Walter Coy) out of town, the terrified townsfolk hire gunslinger Clay Blaisedell (Henry Fonda) and his sidekick Tom Morgan (Anthony Quinn) for defense. Clay and Tom set themselves up as lawmen while earning spare change through a faro game. The marshals start to wear out their welcome after Clay's rival dies in a hold-up, while McQuowan's gang starts encroaching on his territory. Reformed cowboy Johnny Gannon (Richard Widmark) becomes Deputy Sheriff and tries to prevent all-out war. Meanwhile, Clay's romance with Jessie (Dolores Michael) sends Tom over the edge.

Warlock is based on Oakley Hall's novel but plays as a deconstruction of the Wyatt Earp legend. Clay is a nastier Wyatt, buffaloing criminals and running vice rackets, with Tom a back-shooting, demented Doc Holiday. Writer Robert Alan Arthur even loosely re-stages bits of Earp lore: a shady stagecoach hold-up, the jurisdictional dispute between Clay and Sheriff Keller (Hugh Saunders), the uneven showdown between Clay/Tom and amateur cowboys. Warlock's anti-heroes are hired guns rather than "real" lawmen, tolerated without being liked. By film's end they're as unwelcome as McQuown's men.  

"Adult Westerns" are heavy on psychological baggage, from Anthony Mann's tormented heroes to the sexual weirdness of Johnny Guitar and Terror in a Texas Town. Warlock raises eyebrows with Tom, whose obsessive jealousy towards Clay implies an "unnatural" relationship. Perhaps I'd cotton to this if I hadn't heard critics claim just about every male film duo as "coded" lovers. If Tom is gay then Clay doesn't suspect it, least of all while pairing with Jessie. Perhaps this cigar is just a cigar?

Warlock is a slow-burner but the powder dampens long before the climax. Arthur's script bogs down in talk and side characters: square Johnny Gannon doesn't fit the warped story, with love interests Jessie and Lily Dollar (Dorothy Malone) eating up valuable screen time. Dymytryk stages clever scenes like Clay's humiliation of a cocksure cowboy (DeForrest Kelly) and Gannon's torture by his old gang, while Joseph MacDonald provides stunning color photography. But Warlock lurches into silly melodrama with Tom's meltdown and Clay's ludicrous reaction. Dymytryk salvages things, though, with an inspired anti-climax.

Henry Fonda does fine, though his vaguely amoral Clay isn't noticeably different than his straight hero roles. Anthony Quinn is less successful, mixing a regrettable Southern accent with ham acting. Richard Widmark (Two Rode Together) navigates his conventional arc with finesse. Dorothy Malone provides a nice edge against Dolores Michaels' white bread princess. DeForest Kelly (Gunfight at the OK Corral) makes a sympathetic bad guy and Wallace Ford (The Man from Laramie) steals his scenes as a righteous Judge. The supporting cast brims with familiar faces: Vaughn Taylor (The Professionals), Whit Bissell (The Magnificent Seven), Joe Turkel (The Shining), Roy Jenson (The Wind and the Lion), Frank Gorshin and L.Q. Jones.

Warlock isn't quite the sum of its parts. Interesting in conception and full of great scenes, it lacks the cohesion to be a classic.