Appaloosa is a Western; it is not a movie about Westerns. In this sense, it differs from the majority of modern oaters, including last year's The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. For this reason, I'm surprised Appaloosa made it to the big screen; traditional horse operas live on almost exclusively as made-for-TV movies, usually starring Tom Selleck and adapted from novels by Louis L'Amour and Robert B. Parker. In fact, Robert B. Parker also wrote the novel Appaloosa, which Ed Harris adapted with Robert Knott. Tom Selleck is nowhere to be found, but he might feel at home here.
When charged to review a cowboy movie, critics enjoy pointing out that the film in question is "not really a Western," by which they mean that, like Unforgiven and Dead Man, it is better than its predecessors or, like Wild Wild West and American Outlaws, it is worse. This is a reductive view of the genre (Unforgiven, though excellent, is not actually better than High Noon or Stagecoach, and Dead Man certainly is inferior), but it points to a general truth: Current Westerns are made with a mind to subvert the trappings of their forebears (the racism, the romance) or simply to escape them. Appaloosa embraces them, happily enlisting hoary cliches when they are useful. It even deploys hostile Indians as a plot device. There's no intertexual criticism here. Appaloosa's purpose is to tell a story, and it is well-told in its modest way. As director, Ed Harris adds a personal touch to his timeworn plot, but nobody can claim that his movie is "not really a Western."
The storyline is simple enough; it recalls every Wyatt Earp movie ever made. The protagonist here is Virgil Cole (Ed Harris), a gunman who, near the beginning of the movie, rides into an unfamiliar town called Appaloosa. He is accompanied by his longtime partner, Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen). In Appaloosa, a nefarious rancher named Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons) has shot the City Marshal and his deputies, and now his gang runs wild in the streets, terrorizing shopkeepers and bartenders. Before long, local dignitaries hire Virgil as the new marshal, with Everett as his deputy. The two set about cleaning up Appaloosa, and eventually they arrest Bragg for murder. He is sentenced to death. Meanwhile, Virgil meets an elegant lady and falls in love with her. The lady is Allison French (Renée Zellweger), and she too is a newcomer, having recently stepped off the train here for no discernible reason. After years of roaming the West, Virgil decides to settle down with her and builds a house in Appaloosa. Naturally, however, he and Everett run into some complications while escorting Bragg to his hanging. There is a kidnapping, a getaway, and a chase. "You'll never see me hang!" Bragg boasts. "Never is a long time," Virgil replies.
Obviously, this is all very routine. We've seen these characters a million times before, and most of them haven't evolved much over the years. Virgil, like many lawmen before him, is taciturn and brutally professional. His more pensive sidekick is similarly laconic. Bragg, the crook, is suspiciously well-spoken, and the movie never gives us any cause to doubt that he is purely evil. Only Allison French departs significantly from her archetype. Fifty years ago, she'd be a kind, pious schoolmarm; here, she more resembles one of Hollywood's dissatisfied, unstable suburban housewives.
In short, Appaloosa's characters are built from old parts, but the parts have been put together correctly, and nearly every role is well-played. Ed Harris is neither as compellingly human nor as loftily mythic as John Wayne or Gary Cooper, who used underwritten parts to their advantage; still, there is a man behind the cold stare. Viggo Mortensen's performance here seems less labored than any of the others I've seen from him. Jeremy Irons has fun as the dastardly Bragg, and Timothy Spall has an amusing turn as a sputtering townsman. Zellweger, as flirty Allison, is not charming (only movie producers still expect her to be), and I wonder how bad-looking she'll have to become before Hollywood stops employing her in these roles.
Appaloosa has the elements of a shoot-em-up, but it's slower than that and has a more thoughtful air, though it doesn't seem to be thinking about much in particular. Still, it doesn't feel as though we're wallowing in junk. Appaloosa takes time to look at its characters, who become more interesting than they seem they ought to be. The relationship between Virgo and Everett is especially well-observed; these two men come to know each other thoroughly despite sharing nothing of their lives, and they've achieved a perfect partnership, where each knows his role and seems to have chosen it for himself. There are action sequences, too, and they come as abrupt, arresting bursts of movement.
I'm glad cinema has more to offer than this kind of fare, but occasionally, one wants to see a movie like Appaloosa. There was a time when Hollywood produced this sort of Western all the time; that's no longer the case, but 2007 brought 3:10 to Yuma, a greater, more ambitious version of this same brand of entertainment. "I rode straight into the sunset, heading West at an easy pace. I had a long journey ahead of me, and I saw no need to hurry," Everett intones in a concluding voiceover, as if unaware that we knew all along he'd do precisely that. I sincerely hope the sun has not set on Appaloosa.
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