Sunday, October 05, 2008
A+E, In this Issue..., Movies, Reviews

There will be blood

Thoughtful ‘Appaloosa’ has more on its mind than sixguns and shootouts

BY KEVIN FOREST MOREAU

“Appaloosa” packs all the earmarks of a classic Western: grizzled cowboys (director and co-screenwriter Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen), evil ranchers, hostile Indians and, of course, shootouts. But like its heroes, it operates on a more reserved level. It meanders along at a leisurely but laconic clip, its momentum fueled by revelations of character rather than by grand explosions of action-movie mayhem. But Western fans shouldn’t worry: There will be blood. It’s just that the violence comes quickly and without warning—even in the traditional, “High Noon”-style shoot-’em-ups, free of the dramatic close-ups of darting eyes and twitchy fingers so common to the genre. 

Harris plays Virgil Cole, an itinerant lawman-for-hire who makes a living wandering into borderline-lawless towns like Appaloosa and imposing order. Hired by the jittery town council to deal with rancher Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons), who lets his scruffy band of miscreants rape, murder and steal with impunity, Cole and his taciturn partner Everett Hitch (Mortensen) present the befuddled politicians with a list of bylaws that essentially says that the law is whatever Cole says it is. Thus armed, Cole and Hitch set about enforcing said law the only way they know—via the power of the gun.

It’s tempting to view this setup as a kind of allegory to the war in Iraq, with Harris’ Cole standing in for our commander in chief, determined to depose a callous dictator by whatever means necessary. But “Appaloosa” isn’t out to make a statement about lawlessness in the pursuit of law. Its concern isn’t so much vigilance over the external landscape of sand and brush as it is the internal terrain of honor and introspection. Keeping the peace as freelance marshals is these two longtime companions’ way of making sense of their place in the world.

That task becomes more complicated for Cole with the arrival of Allison French (Renée Zellweger, looking as weathered and severe as her surroundings), a seemingly prim and proper single woman who takes a job playing piano in the town’s saloon. Their attraction is instant and mutual, although Cole finds himself in unfamiliar territory dealing with a woman of her caliber. His aggressive overreaction to a bit of playful joshing about that inexperience hints darkly at another explanation for Cole’s line of work: a violence that simmers beneath the surface, tempered only by the occasional controlled outbursts afforded to a gunman. He also finds himself flustered by what he at first perceives as the usual domestic insecurity when Allison complains about his hours on the job, but which he eventually turns out to be a character trait altogether more troubling—and dangerous, as well. (“It appears she’ll f**k anything ain’t gelded,” Cole remarks at one point.)

Cole’s ongoing relationship with Allison is both central to the story and its most problematic aspect. That’s also true of the novel, by noted crime writer Robert B. Parker, faithfully adapted by Harris and Robert Knott. Their script keeps the book’s moments of light and welcome humor, notably Cole’s occasional loss for a particular word, which Hitch helpfully provides. And like the book, it tells the story from the point of view of Hitch, who provides some suitably pseudo-philosophical narration (“soldiering didn’t allow for much expansion of the soul”)—and who spends much of the movie watching out for, explaining the alleged mystique of and idolizing his best buddy and mentor. Their easy relationship, with its quiet, nonverbal communications, feels more like a comfortable marriage than Cole’s strained bond with Allison.

Mortensen spends most of the movie taking in the action, leaning against a doorframe or cleaning his impressive eight-gauge shotgun. Although he draws down on his share of bad guys, his isn’t a largely physical role. Imposingly tall and alarmingly rail-thin, he appears to have sunken into himself, the better to convey Hitch’s introverted wariness; a quiet sentinel who registers alarm, intelligence and surprise with the merest flicker of his watchful eyes. Although those eyes are too often following Harris’ Cole, by whom we’re meant to be fascinated, they’re part of what makes Mortensen the true center of the film, and its most intriguing presence. 3 STARS