I love "Charley Varrick." I think Don Siegel invented, with this film and "Coogan's Bluff," a genre known as the street-western. You know, a genre film that's basically a western set in the modern day, usually in a desert setting like Arizona.
Other great 70s crime, street western, tough guy, action films?
The Outfit. Hustle. Mean Streets. The Sting. The Mechanic. Friends of Eddie Coyle. Shaft. What else?
BTW, did any of you find it a bit implausible in "Charley Varrick" when Matthau went to the fence and basically spilled the beans about the money. I know Charley wants to get rid of the money, but how could he trust that old guy? I think it was a plot device to help Baker's character find Charley, otherwise he never would've caught him. That also led to the subplot with Sheree North's character.
Check on Charley telling the old guy...by the way, that old guy was a great old actor named Tom Tully (you can find him in 1954's "The Caine Mutiny" as the Captain from whom Bogart's Captain Queeg takes over the ship), who was, I believe, really crippled at this point. "Charley Varrick" was Tully's last film -- a great one to go out on (and ouch on his doing that little fall in his wheelchair by himself.)
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As for 70's urban Westerns, you're kind of "splitting them up" -- the desert ones indeed include "Charley Varrick" (and the first half of "Coogan's Bluff") but pure urban movies like "Shaft" don't use the desert at all.
The bottom line, I think, is that the action movie replaced the Western around the 70's. I blame the machine-gun, myself. Once machine-gun action was available, six-shooter gunfights weren't exciting enough (note: there's a great big machine-gun in "The Wild Bunch," which is one reason why its gunfight is so explosive and exciting.)
Your list is extensive.
"Dirty Harry" with Clint Eastwood seems to be another Siegel one that should be on your list. Harry's big handgun is a "super six-shooter" and he has a few old-time showdowns with it, doesn't he? ("Do you feel lucky?")
A few other Eastwood seventies films fit your definition: "Thunderbolt and Lightfoot," "The Gauntlet," the other Dirty Harrys.
I'd also include "Prime Cut" (1972) Lee Marvin and Gene Hackman as warring gangsters in modern-day Kansas. And "Mr. Majestyk" with Charles Bronson. How about "Death Wish" ("Draw your iron," says New York City vigilante Bronson to a thug with a gun) Maybe even Bronson's border-town Mexican prison movie, "Breakout."
In the eighties, "Extreme Prejudice" with Nick Nolte as a modern-day Texas Ranger comes to mind.
But wait,
Back in the fifties, perhaps the first "Modern Western": "Bad Day at Black Rock," with one-armed Spencer Tracy coming back from WWII to deliver a dead Japanese-American soldier's war medal to his father. The father's dead; the town boss of a desert town in the middle of nowhere did it, and Spencer's gotta take on the bad guy (Robert Ryan) and his thugs (Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine, others.) It's a Western with no horses -- jeeps instead. Though Spencer rides into town on a train.
the desert ones indeed include "Charley Varrick" (and the first half of "Coogan's Bluff")
Well, it's probably more like the first fifteen minutes of Coogan's Bluff, although the Western overtones continue as the Westerner (Coogan) makes his way through the modern morass of New York City.
Another modern Eastwood film from that general era that is partly set in the desert is the espionage tale The Eiger Sanction (Eastwood, 1975), the middle part of which is located in and around Monument Valley. Indeed, the location footage there ranks with the memorable Monument Valley imagery shot by John Ford in his many Westerns and by Sergio Leone in parts of Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). And, yes, The Gauntlet (Eastwood, 1977) is set in the Southwest, with much of the film occurring in the harsh, arid, desultory desert landscape between Las Vegas and Phoenix.
Coogan's Bluff (Don Siegel, 1968) literally signaled the shift from the Western to the modern-urban cop film, and Dirty Harry (Siegel, 1971) cemented the change three years later. Some of Dirty Harry's situations and sensibilities owed themselves to the Western, but the overtones and appearances were now gone. Harry, unlike Coogan, doesn't wear a cowboy hat and boots, and he isn't from Texas, I mean, Arizona.
I don't believe that the narrative situations of Charley Varrick (Siegel, 1973) and Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (Michael Cimino, 1974) really resemble Westerns, but there is no doubt that they make evocative use of the American West's ambient landscapes. Moreover, the latter film is a study of modern-day drifters, the descendents, perhaps, of yesteryear's mythological figures.
A common motif here is that most of Eastwood's films, even his modern-day ones, are set in the West. That choice constitutes a contrast with such "New York filmmakers" as Sidney Lumet, Woody Allen, and Martin Scorsese. Another director who often resorted to the locales of the Southwest and northern California was Alfred Hitchcock. Eastwood, of course, was born in San Francisco and graduated from high school in Oakland, so his attraction to such locales is rooted in personal history. I'm not sure of the reason for Hitchcock's affinity for the area, but doubtlessly the sense of atmosphere attracted him.
I'll also second the recommendation of the earlier "modern Western" Bad Day at Black Rock (John Sturges, 1955), which is a taut, socially powerful little film featuring a magnificent cast and a stalwart performance from Spencer Tracy.
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Lone Wolf McQuade is another great example. It's a pretty good movie. A good modern example is "SWAT," especially during the part where the bad guy is being led out of the city(read: carriage). I smiled during that part of the film.
Now we're talking. I just thought about Walter Hill. What other director more follows the modern western formula. Extreme Prejudice was an almost nostalgic tribute to the western revenge genre, and what about Streets of Fire, The Warriors(how could I forget that one?), Geronimo, Trespass(blatant example of a modern stylized western), even Southern Comfort.
Oh, and how could I forget the most direct example of the "street western." One of the best. John Carpenter's Assault on Precinct 13. A virtual remake of Rio Bravo, set in the ghetto.
"Well, it's probably more like the first fifteen minutes of Coogan's Bluff, although the Western overtones continue as the Westerner (Coogan) makes his way through the modern morass of New York City. "
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True. I think I rashly posted the words "first half." First part, maybe.
-- "Another modern Eastwood film from that general era that is partly set in the desert is the espionage tale The Eiger Sanction (Eastwood, 1975), the middle part of which is set in and around Monument Valley. Indeed, the location footage there ranks with the memorable Monument Valley imagery shot by John Ford in his many Westerns and be Sergio Leone in parts of Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). And, yes, The Gauntlet (Eastwood, 1977) is set in the Southwest, with much of the film occurring in the harsh, arid, desultory desert landscape between Las Vegas and Phoenix."
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Here, I suppose the issue is: does a modern film set in the arid, desert West by that aspect only become a Western?
The visual cues of Monument Valley are so strong -- John Ford, mainly -- that the association must be made.
But it may well be that the Western is more a function of character/plot WITH a desert setting (and here, "desert" can extend from Mexico to Texas to Utah...to Spain.)
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"Coogan's Bluff (Don Siegel, 1968) literally signaled the shift from the Western to the modern-urban cop film, and Dirty Harry (Siegel, 1971) cemented the change three years later. Some of Dirty Harry's situations and sensibilities owed themselves to the Western, but the overtones and appearances were now gone. Harry, unlike Coogan, doesn't wear a cowboy hat and boots, and he isn't from Texas, I mean, Arizona."
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That's the pair of films that effectively "made the transfer" of the Western to the "urban action" movie. The references are overt in "Coogan's Bluff," but I do think that "Dirty Harry" as you say "cemented the change."
The comparison is "Bullitt," in which SF cop Frank Bullitt was a bit rebellious, but still very much subject to the chain-of-command, and more interested in investigation than confrontation (he pulls his gun once, at the end, against his desires.) "Dirty Harry" postulates a cop who generally assumes a "showdown" position as he faces off against the bank robbers (early on) and Scorpio (at the finale.) As in many Westerns, the structure of the "law" is of little use against the savagery endangering the populace; Dirty Harry's law is at the end of the proverbial gun barrel.
-- "I don't believe that the narrative situations of Charley Varrick (Siegel, 1973) and Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (Michael Cimino, 1974) really resemble Westerns, but there is no doubt that they make evocative use of the American West's ambient landscapes. Moreover, the latter film is a study of modern-day drifters, the descendents, perhaps, of yesteryear's mythological figures."
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True. You're getting something neatly different: "Southwestern noir." One reason that "Charley Varrick" is so flavorful is that the very urban New Yorker Walter Matthau seems just a bit out of place in these wide open spaces.
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"A common motif here is that most of Eastwood's films, even his modern-day ones, are set in the West. That choice constitutes a contrast with such "New York filmmakers" as Sidney Lumet, Woody Allen, and Martin Scorsese. Another director who often resorted to the locales of the Southwest and northern California was Alfred Hitchcock. Eastwood, of course, was born in San Francisco and graduated from high school in Oakland, so his attraction to such locales is rooted in personal history. I'm not sure of the reason for Hitchcock's affinity for the area, but doubtlessly the sense of atmosphere attracted him."
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The "New York filmmakers" you mention have certainly made that region part of their directorial personas. Woody recently branched out -- but to London, which is kind of "New York East."
Clint Eastwood would have been almost purely a Western star had he hit about 30 years earlier. But Clint realized, in the 70's, that a superstar career could not be built on being a Western star. Still, it seems that he retained the "Westerner" characterization and independent outlook. Films set in the West helped maintain taht aura.
Hitchcock and Northern California evidently stem from two things: as a transplant from England to Los Angeles in 1939, Hitchcock made some trips up from the arid desert climate of Los Angeles to the gray and gorgeous cold Northern California coast of Santa Cruz -- and found it much like the British coast he'd left behind.
Hitchcock took a second home in Santa Cruz, and on various drives up from Los Angeles, and then up to the San Francisco region, he found the locales for many stories: Santa Rosa (Shadow of a Doubt), Bodega Bay (The Birds), San Francisco (Vertigo), the Central Valley of California (Psycho, and, standing in for the Indiana prarie in the crop-duster chase in "North by Northwest.")
Here, I suppose the issue is: does a modern film set in the arid, desert West by that aspect only become a Western?
The visual cues of Monument Valley are so strong -- John Ford, mainly -- that the association must be made.
But it may well be that the Western is more a function of character/plot WITH a desert setting (and here, "desert" can extend from Mexico to Texas to Utah...to Spain.)
Yes, the definition of a neo-Western, much like a neo-noir, can be ambiguous. And actually, The Gauntlet (Clint Eastwood, 1977) and the middle section of The Eiger Sanction (Eastwood, 1975) fit your later label of "Southwestern noir." For example, the former film is about an alcoholic, gullible, world-weary cop who unwittingly finds himself at the center of a maelstrom and as a sacrificial lamb for institutional corruption and conspiracy. In order to survive, he must escape cross-country through the desert with a blonde hooker who's more intelligent and aware than he is. The second act of The Eiger Sanction involves an educated spy who has been lured back into a seedy web of shady connections around an entrepreneurial, leisure-class desert resort and hunting lodge. The noir overtones of sex-and-violence are quite clear.
***SPOILERS*** for The Eiger Sanction
The spy's nubile climbing trainer turns out to be a femme fatale who drugs him after sex, and he must elude and dispose of a smarmy, traitorous former colleague and his thugish henchman.
***SPOILERS*** end
That's the pair of films that effectively "made the transfer" of the Western to the "urban action" movie. The references are overt in "Coogan's Bluff," but I do think that "Dirty Harry" as you say "cemented the change."
The comparison is "Bullitt," in which SF cop Frank Bullitt was a bit rebellious, but still very much subject to the chain-of-command, and more interested in investigation than confrontation (he pulls his gun once, at the end, against his desires.) "Dirty Harry" postulates a cop who generally assumes a "showdown" position as he faces off against the bank robbers (early on) and Scorpio (at the finale.) As in many Westerns, the structure of the "law" is of little use against the savagery endangering the populace; Dirty Harry's law is at the end of the proverbial gun barrel.
Yes, in Dirty Harry (Don Siegel, 1971), the primacy and presumption of violence, and shootouts in particular, refers back to the Western. As in the Western, law and institutional procedure are secondary, but since they also become an obstruction, Dirty Harry emerges as a highly modern film. In the Western, the legal bureaucracy typically isn't developed enough to impede the lone hero (or, in this case, anti-hero). But in a modern society, the legal bureaucracy and institutional structure have formed a hierarchical thicket, a social-psychological mummification to match the labyrinthine physical landscapes of the urban jungle. Harry thus finds himself trapped, wanting to act like the lone avenger of Westerns past but unable to do so because society has wrapped him in red tape, sabotaged his autonomy through hierarchy and bureaucracy, and created a modern morass of steel, glass, concrete, and chromium. As a result, Scorpio cannot be confronted out in the open, as in a Western, for he can slink away into the nooks, crannies, alleys, and shadows of the urban jungle while exploiting the fallacies of a modern judicial system to elude imprisonment.
***SPOILERS*** for Dirty Harry
Scorpio makes his mistake when he leaves the refuge of the city limits and heads out onto the open highways and into the empty industrial suburbs. It is there that Harry can finally pursue him freely (physically, at least) and gun him down under the afternoon sky.
***SPOILERS*** end
Dirty Harry thus borrows certain Western conventions and complicates them by entangling them with the conventions of urban modernity. If Dirty Harry had simply been an updated Western, then the film would have been even simpler. Indeed, the movie depicts the kind of narrative that has roots in the Western (one could compare Dirty Harry to The Searchers in terms of a compulsive, misanthropic anti-hero obsessively pursuing a rapacious killer past the bounds of formality). However, the film also confronts modernity and the complications that have effectively rendered the raw Western story obsolete. After all, in The Searchers, Ethan Edwards never captures Chief Scar only to see officialdom let him go, and while people may disapprove of him, he doesn't have to answer to anybody or compromise his search because of red tape, the judiciary system, or any kind of municipal bureaucracy. Dirty Harry, on the other hand, takes those Western thrusts and entangles them with modernity's web, creating a sense of heated pressure missing from most Westerns. In a sense, the neo-Western meets the neo-noir in Dirty Harry.
Coogan’s Bluff (Siegel, 1968), of course, laid out the blueprint for the Western’s modern-urban complication over three years earlier. As the epochal transitional film, the Western references are, of course, explicit
***SPOILERS*** for Coogan’s Bluff
For instance, the movie’s contrast between the Western and the modern cop drama are impossible to miss. During the film’s opening act, Coogan freely tracks and violently arrests a miscreant in the desert, with very little in the way of hierarchical mitigation or institutional procedure. If Coogan had never left Arizona, the movie may simply have been an updated Western. However, Coogan then has to head out to New York, where everything is different. He cannot act on his own accord without breaking the law, he cannot clearly trace the killer through the labyrinthine city, and he finds his autonomy constantly compromised. At one point, his immediate superior in New York City, Lt. McElroy (Lee J. Cobb) even tells him, “This isn’t the O.K. Corral around here. It’s the city of New York! We’ve got a system! Not much, but we’re fond of it. We don’t like it when some two-for-nickel cowboy thinks he can bend it out of shape!” In other words, Coogan’s instinctive, animalistic impulses and the Western sensibility that they represent become entangled by modernity, hence making Coogan’s Bluff not simply an updated Western, but a study in cross-cultural fertilization. Because its cultural motifs are overt, Coogan’s Bluff is almost like a beginner’s guide to a thematic analysis of Dirty Harry. After all, the ethical discrepancies in this first Eastwood-Siegel collaboration are obvious and marked by divergent visual symbolism. Coogan is clearly a cowboy in appearance, his dress and manner are mocked by the cynical denizens of New York, and he only corrals the murderer, James Ringerman, after the miscreant makes the mistake of entering Fort Tyron Park, with its grassy, natural, relatively wide-open spaces. That outcome and the entire film prefigures Dirty Harry, only with a much greater comic tone born from the overt clash of contrasting elements.
***SPOILERS*** end
In Dirty Harry, the collision between the Western sensibility and urban modernity is more covert because it’s not based in emblems or broad characterization. Harry is not a hat-and-boots hick in the big city, but an underground urban man who can read San Francisco like the back of his hand. Still, the clash in styles and mentalities is there, only it’s no longer couched in cross-cultural fertilization. The change from the Western to the urban cop movie has been cemented, with the Western taking on a new form without the visible motifs of the past.
Clint Eastwood would have been almost purely a Western star had he hit about 30 years earlier. But Clint realized, in the 70's, that a superstar career could not be built on being a Western star. Still, it seems that he retained the "Westerner" characterization and independent outlook. Films set in the West helped maintain taht aura.
Indeed, setting modern-day films such as the Dirty Harry movies, Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (Michael Cimino, 1974), The Eiger Sanction (Eastwood, 1975), The Gauntlet (Eastwood, 1977), Every Which Way but Loose (James Fargo, 1978), Escape from Alcatraz (Siegel, 1979), Bronco Billy (Eastwood, 1980), Any Which Way You Can (Buddy Van Horn, 1980), much of Honkytonk Man (Eastwood, 1982), and even the opening of Firefox (Eastwood, 1982) in the American West helped to maintain that aura of Eastwood as a man of the West, even as the Western genre faded into nostalgia and occasional revivalism. After all, Dirty Harry's Western undertones would have been harder to imply had the filmmakers retained the script's original setting, New York, instead of shifting to San Francisco and the edge of the Pacific. More recent Eastwood films, such as Pink Cadillac (Van Horn, 1989), The Rookie (Eastwood, 1990), A Perfect World (Eastwood, 1993), The Bridges of Madison County (Eastwood, 1995), True Crime (Eastwood, 1999), Blood Work (Eastwood, 2002), and Million Dollar Baby (Eastwood, 2004), are also set west of the Mississippi. In movies like Bronco Billy and Any Which Way You Can, the briefly glimpsed New York is a source of venality, materialism, and grim depression, while the open-air West offers a relaxed, collegial lifestyle and the possibilities for reinvention and redemption. Of course, Eastwood was not John Wayne, for he was also willing to depict the West as corrupt and vicious, as in 1973's High Plains Drifter, or as grim and conformist, as in The Gauntlet. Still, the last time that Eastwood appeared on-screen in New York was when he was seen boarding a helicopter to leave the Big Apple all the way back in Coogan's Bluff. In many ways, he's been the antithesis of a "New York filmmaker" and a "New York star."
Hitchcock and Northern California evidently stem from two things: as a transplant from England to Los Angeles in 1939, Hitchcock made some trips up from the arid desert climate of Los Angeles to the gray and gorgeous cold Northern California coast of Santa Cruz -- and found it much like the British coast he'd left behind.
Hitchcock took a second home in Santa Cruz, and on various drives up from Los Angeles, and then up to the San Francisco region, he found the locales for many stories: Santa Rosa (Shadow of a Doubt), Bodega Bay (The Birds), San Francisco (Vertigo), the Central Valley of California (Psycho, and, standing in for the Indiana prarie in the crop-duster chase in "North by Northwest.")
To some extent, films such as Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958), The Birds (Hitchcock, 1963), and Marnie (Hitchcock, 1964) reflect the shrouded, foggy, Old World, Victorian milieu (or its vestiges) of London and Britain. San Francisco, as you know, has been referred to as America's great European city.
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For another example of an urban crime thriller that, as I put it, "takes those Western thrusts and entangles them with modernity's web," see my writing about Lee Marvin and Point Blank (John Boorman, 1967):
Lee Marvin rose through the movie ranks by playing small, colorful characters in violent film genres, especially Westerns. In those Westerns, Marvin, even as a villain, could always fight man-to-man, with such personal combat invariably constituting the crux of the matter. In Point Blank, Marvin’s Walker finds that man-to-man combat is desultory and meaningless, because the men themselves are irrelevant. The real enemy, as the film and Tudor suggest, is impersonal, something that will not fight and cannot be fought. As in Dirty Harry (Don Siegel, 1971) a few years later, all that’s left for the embittered anti-hero is resignation, an empty physical victory and then a retreat into the shadows of a decaying America, a system run amuck. While its colorful, surreal, and nearly psychedelic milieu represents its sixties moment, Point Blank also proves to be one of the epochal films that points the way towards the grim and gray 1970s.
Great post! I was a wee lad when most of those films were made, but have come to appreciate them as I get older. The 70s was an amazing decade for crime films.
Wasn't Charley deliberately leaving clues? He needed to be found so that he could stage his own 'death' and leave no doubt about it in the Mafia's mind. Just diappearing was not enough.
The definition of a "street western" or neo western is any genre film that could easily be a western were the setting different. "Heat" is a good example of this(and strangely enough it applies to both the Michael Mann film and the Burt Reynolds film). "Point Blank" is another good example, as well as virtuall all of Peckinpah's films. "The Getaway," "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia," "Junior Bonner" are all westerns. Most direct example is Carpenter's "Assault on Precinct 13."
Remember that mediocre Burt Reynolds film "Malone?" The one where he plays the ex CIA guy who goes to the small town? That's a modern western.
Getting back to "Varrick," the one weakness in the film was that it had too many characters, I think, a result of the contrived way that Joe Don Baker was led to Matthau and his partner.
Still a terrific film. CHeck out "Pelham 123." Another good Walter Matthau thriller.
"Malone" was (and Reynolds said this himself) essentially a modern-day version of "Shane." So you get that one, for sure.
"Assault on Precinct 13," as a remake of "Rio Bravo" -- though a much nastier one that rather missed the sweet cameraderie of Hawks' film -- qualifies.
Running "The Getaway" through your analysis, I guess I can see it. If McQueen and his gang were horseback robbers of the 19th Century rather than car-driving robbers of the 20th, the story would likely play the same way.
By Bruce Willis' definition, ALL modern action movies (of which there have been fewer lately) are Westerns, probably because of the direct conflict involved and resolution through gunfire. Film noirs and gangster pictures of the 40's and 50's -- when Westerns were going strong -- lacked this kind of good vs. evil resolution.
Still, there is something to be said for the "greater grandeur" of the classic Western. John Ford's cavalry Westerns and "The Searchers" are pretty specific to white-vs.-American Indian concerns and the mores of "the Old West." They wouldn't transfer to modern times, IMHO. "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" could be done about a modern gangster (Lee Marvin) being shot by a modern lawyer (James Stewart) -- but really, that story was about the death of the Old West and the start of civilization.
Bottom line: some action movies are "modern westerns," but not all of them fit the classical John Ford mode.
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I'm OK with the trail of characters leading Baker to Matthau. They've established that this is a very underpopulated region in which the Mafia has chosen to open a "drop bank" and in which those very characters (Tully, Sheree North) are probably the leading criminals in town, along with Varrick himself.
I've always had a LITTLE problem with Harmon -- alerted by Charley that the Mafia is coming -- letting the massive Molly into the trailer on pretext of leaving a business card. But then, Harmon never was too bright. And -- in a beautiful aspect of this movie -- Molly doesn't look Italian-American. Neither does the Chinese guy, for that matter. The "Mafia" has many faces, hires out talent, etc.
"The Taking Of Pelham 123," released a year after "Charley Varrick," is Matthau's other gold-standard 70's thriller. Hardly a Western, though: hostages on a subway train? Maybe I'll go post on that one separately.
Between "Varrick" and "Pelham," Matthau made one other 70's thriller -- "The Laughing Policeman," but despite a solid dramatic Matthau performance and ace support from Bruce Dern and Lou Gossett, that movie is very unfocussed, prurient, and disappointing at the end.
Still, there is something to be said for the "greater grandeur" of the classic Western. John Ford's cavalry Westerns and "The Searchers" are pretty specific to white-vs.-American Indian concerns and the mores of "the Old West." They wouldn't transfer to modern times, IMHO. "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" could be done about a modern gangster (Lee Marvin) being shot by a modern lawyer (James Stewart) -- but really, that story was about the death of the Old West and the start of civilization.
While I agree with much of what you're saying here, doesn't Ford's celebration of the U.S. Cavalry have modern equivalents, and doesn't The Searchers maintain contemporary counterparts in terms of brutal, misanthropic avengers (Point Blank, Dirty Harry) and the presentation of a thoroughly savage or rottenly subversive enemy (Nazis, "Japs," "Commies," Viet Cong, terrorists)? That said, I agree with your overall point, in that Westerns and modern-day action movies are not simply interchangeable, especially because, as I've noted several times, modernity complicates and entangles Western thrusts.
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If Harmon hadn't let Molly in, Molly would have just pushed in the door, ripped the chain and then come in. Same result, but now you have a broken lock.
The definition of a "street western" or neo western is any genre film that could easily be a western were the setting different. "Heat" is a good example of this(and strangely enough it applies to both the Michael Mann film and the Burt Reynolds film). "Point Blank" is another good example, as well as virtuall all of Peckinpah's films. "The Getaway," "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia," "Junior Bonner" are all westerns. Most direct example is Carpenter's "Assault on Precinct 13."
I don't think, however, that Point Blank could easily be a Western given a different setting. To again quote myself, the film "takes those Western thrusts and entangles them with modernity's web." Walker's real enemy turns out to be bureaucratic corporatism, something that you could not find in a Western. In other words, Walker is a Western-type character struggling to deal with a non-Western world, and the same might be said for Harry Callahan in Dirty Harry (or Coogan in Coogan's Bluff). That's the difference between a mere updated Western and a film in which certain Western archetypes or motifs must confront modernity.
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It is possible, I realize on the basis of joekidd's posts, to add another reason to the death of the Western film (aside from women and urbanites not much liking them and machine-gun battles out bang-banging six-shooters):
The complexity of modern times simply outdistanced the innocence and simplicity of the Western as a genre.
To the extent a Western or two has "slipped through" in recent years (not THAT recently, I might add), you've had to either do it as a kind of "nostalgic homage" ("Silverado") or as the vessel for more bleakly modernistic themes and characters ("Unforgiven," which some critic called "An Ingmar Bergman Western".)
Good Lord, (I suddenly realize) "Silverado"'s over 20 years old! I feel like I saw it only yesterday...I mean, Kevin Costner and Kevin Kline are in it. They're still working today. Yikes.
It is also probable that a politically conservative strain runs through many older Westerns which is unpalatable to non-conservative audiences today. These movies are often about men choosing to "not to back down," choosing to pick fights and solve problems through gunbattles. Men are men, and women are grateful. The heroes are heroic, but their attitudes are rather war-like, etc.
It is also probable that a politically conservative strain runs through many older Westerns which is unpalatable to non-conservative audiences today. These movies are often about men choosing to "not to back down," choosing to pick fights and solve problems through gunbattles. Men are men, and women are grateful. The heroes are heroic, but their attitudes are rather war-like, etc.
But wouldn't a substantial chunk of the audience still be conservative? The problem may not be political conservatism as much as aesthetic conservatism and a sentimental style that contemporary audiences deem hokey. To a large extent, though, the revisionist Westerns of the sixties and seventies addressed all that and gave the genre new resonance and relevance. Even that brand of Western eventually faded, however.
It's worth noting that the movie Western has been in a general state of decline since the late 1950s. As society indeed became increasingly modernistic, complex, and technological, the genre gradually grew passe (and the rise of the television Western didn't help the film variety, either). It did manage to adjust and reflect the violence and anti-heroism of the Vietnam years (largely due to the European influence), but the Western has been running uphill for nearly fifty years now.
And finally, I think that the problem of appealing to women proved quite substantial. As the 1950s progressed and television continued to erode the moviegoing market, it made less sense for studios to slice off half the audience.
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I will note, though, that AMC's quite solid Broken Trail set ratings records for the network a couple months ago. Perhaps, then, a certain niche market for Westerns remains, only it's more likely to be reached through television. I'm also sure that Eastwood's and Wayne's Westerns continue to score highly on cable and home video. I recall that in my old hometown, The Outlaw Josey Wales was checked out of the video store on a nearly perpetual basis.
Funny thing about Hollywood: they just won't take a "weird risk." Spend $200 million making another Superman? Approved. Try to do something new for $80 million with the Western (on the big screen)? No way.
Some sort of audience is out there for this material, as the Eastwood/Wayne crowd and "Broken Trail" attests. But not enough of one, anymore. (Kevin Costner's "Open Range," also with Robert Duvall, as "Broken Trail" was, was a mild hit.)
You'd think with DVD sales backing up theatrical, a few more Westerns would be worth making.
But maybe, indeed, the era is over. Book musicals like MGM used to make are pretty much gone ("Chicago" excepted.) Cecil B. DeMille Biblicals are gone (even with "Passion of the Christ" hitting.) Hell, beach party movies are gone.
Modern entertainment seems to harken to the basics: comedies, action thrills, horror, love stories, dramas, martial arts, SciFi. All modern-day (except for the SciFi and some martial arts.) That's where we've evolved, that's what the insatiable youth market wants.
Funny thing about Hollywood: they just won't take a "weird risk." Spend $200 million making another Superman? Approved. Try to do something new for $80 million with the Western (on the big screen)? No way.
Some sort of audience is out there for this material, as the Eastwood/Wayne crowd and "Broken Trail" attests. But not enough of one, anymore. (Kevin Costner's "Open Range," also with Robert Duvall, as "Broken Trail" was, was a mild hit.)
You'd think with DVD sales backing up theatrical, a few more Westerns would be worth making.
Part of the problem is also that younger filmmakers and actors don't have roots or experience in the genre, so they either carry little interest in pursuing it and/or they don't understand what makes it work. Have you seen Ang Lee's Ride with the Devil (1999)? The young, MTV-generation actors are woefully out of place and harm the film's credibility. They're just not believable in that historical context, partly because they're so far removed from it.
Funny thing about Hollywood: they just won't take a "weird risk." Spend $200 million making another Superman? Approved. Try to do something new for $80 million with the Western (on the big screen)? No way.
Part of this problem is that epic Westerns tend to be favored, thus making the genre more expensive and risky than it needs to be. The Western really shouldn't be that expensive, given the minimal need for sets, but if epics are desired, then the price goes up. That's particularly true because Hollywood imagines that money is a cure-all. You should be able to make a solid Western at $20-40M these days, but directors like Leone, Siegel, and Eastwood, who could make a little money go a long ways, are not in abundance. For example, I believe that The Outlaw Josey Wales' budget was around $4M. Of course, that was back in 1975, but even then, it wasn't that much, and yet the film looks much richer than that. It's a visually handsome, authentic, detailed epic, and yet it cost five times less than Paint Your Wagon in 1968. Likewise, the budget for the epic The Good, the Bad and the Ugly was only around $1.5M in 1966.
What's more important than money is how filmmakers use that money. After all, classic epic Westerns such as The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and The Outlaw Josey Wales cost so little while a dilapidated Western musical such as Paint Your Wagon cost about $20M. Eastwood has commented that famous Italian director Vittorio De Sica, with whom he worked in one of the segments of The Witches (1966), would not even cover an actor's exit if he planned to pick it up from another angle later. He knew how not to waste money.
The Western had its day.
The genre has basically been dormant for the last thirty years, with that dormancy interrupted by occasional revivals. The problem is that as directors such as Clint Eastwood and actors such as Robert Duvall and Sam Elliott age, even those revivals may disappear. As you've noted, even Kevin Costner is now up over 50.
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Some sort of audience is out there for this material, as the Eastwood/Wayne crowd and "Broken Trail" attests. But not enough of one, anymore. (Kevin Costner's "Open Range," also with Robert Duvall, as "Broken Trail" was, was a mild hit.)
The problem is that Hollywood is no longer especially interested in mild profits. According to the IMDb, Open Range cost around $26M to make (advertising may not be included in that figure), and the film grossed $68.3M worldwide ($58.3M domestically, good for 51st place in 2003).
If we're to believe the IMDb's budgetary figure, then Open Range made a modest profit, especially after television and home video sales. However, Hollywood now likes mega-profits, not modest profits, and Westerns just aren't going to gross in the $110M-$400M range (Dances with Wolves is the only one to do so). As Clint Eastwood said in the March 1999 edition of Premiere, the industry is looking for home runs rather than base hits.
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Also, when Eastwood was shopping Mystic River around a reluctant Hollywood, one of the studios told him, "We don't do dramas." If even dramas are out, then what hope is there for Westerns?
We're talking about a whole different era, world here. The 1970s. This was a decade, remember, when you could make a film for $3 Million(on the high end for alot of genre pictures)and have a successful run in the drive-in and neighborhood movie circuits. You know, a film like "Billy Jack"(hey, that's a film we didn't talk about)could make a $100 Million(can you believe that?)from town to town, theater to theater. Nowadays, the movie business is run from coumputers, and movies are booked with the click of a mouse. The average movie costs $62 Million to make.
All true. Good stuff here. Having lived through the seventies as a young movie goer, I can tell you that movies like "Billy Jack" and "Walking Tall" (THAT's certainly a modern western) could rack up then-astonishing groses over a period of months or years, with re-releases and the now-dormant drive-in trade helping them suck in every last rural dollar.
joekidd's observation about the need for mega-grosses today is also quite relevant. I'm not sure how many "Western blockbusters' really exist. They were solid hit, mainly. Even "back in the day" of the sixties, few Westerns drove big grosses. The Eastwood spaghetti Westerns made solid bucks on minimal investment. "Nevada Smith" (with young stud Steve McQueen) was a hit. "The Professionals" was a hit. "Butch Cassidy" -- which many argue isn't REALLY a Western (more like a male buddy comedy-tragedy) -- was huge hit because it wasn't really a western. "True Grit" was a hit. But that's about it.
And the incredibly well-regarded "The Wild Bunch" really grossed in the mid-to-low level of expectation.
Hollywood doesn't operate that way any more. I found the "Open Range" grosses and profits lighter than I'd originally thought.
The "scaredy-cats" who run Hollywood shun Westerns pretty much as a way of life now (my understanding is that its virtually a rule: "No Westerns.")
But what if (I'm wondering) a certain group of established, notable male actors put themselves forward to make an all-star Western. Eastwood would be part of it. But get a bunch more in there with him. And add in Harrison Ford, maybe. And old Robert Redford for "Butch Cassidy" resonance. And maybe somebody much younger, with current heat. Brad Pitt maybe (more on him momentarily.) Mel Gibson would have been great, but he's in trouble...
Anyway, line up an all star cast: Eastwood, Ford, Pitt, Redford. Put 'em in a Western. See if THAT makes it. Then you'd have your proof as to whether or not there's still any commercial value in the genre.
P.S. On Brad Pitt -- I do believe he's soon to appear in a Western, indeed. He's playing Jesse James. So, there's an example of how the genre still "pops up" here and there. Let's watch those grosses!
Yeah, I wonder who they'll get for 3:10 to Yuma? Pitt would be good, although I enjoyed Tom Cruise's villainous turn in "Collateral" so much, I would like to see him as well(regardless of what I think of him personally).
Getting back to the previous stuff. For a film like "Billy Jack" to gross $100 million, it had to play for months and months, it's staggering. It wasn't as if films like "Billy Jack" grossed $20 Million on their opening weekend.
You know, I was just watching an interview with Peter Fonda, from the "Race With the Devil" DVD(a 70's drive in classic), and I realized what an underrated actor he was. "Easy Rider" was such a landmark film(another high-grossing drive-in film), that it overshadows the fact that he made alot of solid movies in the 70s - the western "THe HIred Hand," "92 in the Shade," "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry" and "Futureworld."
You mentioned the great "Wild Bunch." That film was about unchanged men, brutes, in a changing world, the death of the Wild West. I look at film in the 70s like that.
I understand that "3:10 to Yuma" has been cast. I'm not sure if they're doing it as a Western, though.
Russell Crowe has the Glenn Ford part (a villain, Ford's only, to my knowledge.) Cruise looked at this part, may have lost it given his current controversy, may have turned it down.
Christian Bale (Batman) has the Van Heflin part (Good guy.)
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Speaking of "The Wild Bunch," Warners has had an announcement out for years that they've got a writer working on a remake, to be set in modern Mexico, about guys in the drug trade.
I know everybody screams about remakes. I find them rather unstoppable, so I don't get too excited when they are made. But truly, Warners would be committing corporate public relations suicide if they try to release a modern-day "Wild Bunch." That was one of those once-in-a-lifetime movies essentially written in the blood,sweat and tears of the man who wrote and directed it, Sam Peckinpah, containing at least one once-in-a-lifetime performance from a great actor reaching deep at his lowest ebb (William Holden), and of vitally specific importance to the time it which it was made (1969.)
Peter Fonda did have a nice go in the 70's. His willingness to do low-rent, high-profit stuff (not junk) like "Dirty Mary,Crazy Larry" and "Ride with the Devil" indicated his willingness to break free from the studio prestige reptuations of his famous father and sister. And he gave us the beautiful Bridget Fonda, daughter-wise.
P.S. On Brad Pitt -- I do believe he's soon to appear in a Western, indeed. He's playing Jesse James. So, there's an example of how the genre still "pops up" here and there. Let's watch those grosses!
Pitt will represent a sound test, and so will the 3:10 to Yuma remake with Crowe (although the idea of remaking a poetic classic that's so evocative of its era's notalgia is deeply unfortunate).
joekidd's observation about the need for mega-grosses today is also quite relevant. I'm not sure how many "Western blockbusters' really exist. They were solid hit, mainly. Even "back in the day" of the sixties, few Westerns drove big grosses. The Eastwood spaghetti Westerns made solid bucks on minimal investment. "Nevada Smith" (with young stud Steve McQueen) was a hit. "The Professionals" was a hit. "Butch Cassidy" -- which many argue isn't REALLY a Western (more like a male buddy comedy-tragedy) -- was huge hit because it wasn't really a western. "True Grit" was a hit. But that's about it.
And the incredibly well-regarded "The Wild Bunch" really grossed in the mid-to-low level of expectation.
There were some other 1960s hit Westerns, such as Hang 'em High in 1968 (although that was Eastwood following directly on the heels of his Italian Westerns), Hombre in 1967, Bandelero! in 1968, and all of John Wayne's Westerns (to varying degrees), and there were some hits in the seventies, too (Little Big Man, Big Jake, The Cowboys, The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean, Jeremiah Johnson, High Plains Drifter, The Outlaw Josey Wales, and even the much-maligned The Missouri Breaks, along with Eastwood's and Wayne's other oaters). But for the most part, even the hit Westerns weren't going to shatter box-office records, and that's what Hollywood is looking for nowadays.
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There were some other 1960s hit Westerns, such as Hang 'em High in 1968 (although that was Eastwood following directly on the heels of his Italian Westerns), Hombre in 1967, Bandelero! in 1968, and all of John Wayne's Westerns (to varying degrees),
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Just thought I'd mention, for nostalgia purposes, that I saw "Bandolero" (with James Stewart and Dean Martin as outlaw brothers!) and "Hombre" (stoic Paul Newman vs. Richard Boone and others) on the same double bill in '68. I was a kid, a kid!
I realize now: they were both from Fox. "Bandolero" was the new release, "Hombre" the older 1967 film attached to help draw customers.
The double-bill is another movie tradition that has bitten the dust, except at some few remaining drive-ins and second-run houses. Just as well. It's not healthy to spend all day in the theater.
Questions to which I have no answer : If "Bandolero" was the new release in '68, did "Hombre" make ANY money as a second feature? AND: did "Bandolero" earn well maybe because "Hombre" fans showed up to see that one again?
Questions to which I have no answer : If "Bandolero" was the new release in '68, did "Hombre" make ANY money as a second feature?
Wouldn't it have had to? I mean, weren't the revenues for the films counted individually?
An old film professor of mine noted how he saw The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and The Wild Bunch as a double-bill in 1969 as a 25-year old and imagined that the experience would change his life (he did proceed to teach a course in Westerns). And as I'm sure you know, the three Eastwood/Leone Westerns sometimes played as triple-headers, and in some situations, United Artists would tack on Hang 'em High for a quadruple-feature. I've read that into the early 1970s, whenever a theater owner ran into a dry spell, he would break out the Eastwood/Leone Westerns and pack his theater once again.
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Thank God they restored the uncut version of "The Wild Bunch"(back in 1994 I think) so we can now enjoy the film the way it was meant to be seen. You know, the scenes with Robert Ryan and his history with William Holden's character. When Ryan looks at him at the end of the film, you know what he's thinking because the characters have a history.
That cast was like a dream - Holden, Borgnine, Ryan, etc. They were, like Peckinpah, the last of the Mohicans. All dead. Jeez. Seems like all of the films I watch nowadays - and I consider the 1970s to be, arguably, the greatest decade in film history - were made and acted by people who would be outcasts today.
Seems like they're all dead too. Who's left from the "old" era? Eastwood, Newman, Burt Reynolds, um, um, they're all gone.
Speaking of the drive in circuit, the low budget movie model of the 1970s, Roger Corman is someone who thrived during that era but who know can't get his movies released.
There was that whole genre of those trucker, moonshine, road movies - "White Line Fever," "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry" etc - that I call the "two star" movies because they were well-shot, had acting that was better than the genre required, were always "just above average" but had mediocre scripts.
I'm a writer, and I'm working on a story for a "street western" - a genre film that has that feeling of those great films like "Varrick" and the others - and it's tough because crime is so high-tech nowadays. Nothing is simple. Actors nowadays are such wimps. There's no real men left.
Back to Peckinpah. He's a God. He's the man. But the last ten years of his career were rather unproductive. His last film, "The Osterman Weekend," was fun to watch, but so lacking in any of Peckinpah's personal touch that it makes you wonder he just checked out midway during production.(In fact, I think that may have happened).
Speaking of Eastwood, who ever imagined he'd become the next John Ford? Remember his career at the end of the 80's? Remember when it looked like he was going to follow Burt Reynolds into commercial extinction? The past fifteen years has been such a renassaisance for him, as a director and actor, and what's great is that this great third part of his career has made critics and fans "reappraise" the rest of his overlooked directing career.
So now, over the past few years, "Josey Wales" is considered a great western, "Play Misty" is on par with "Psycho"(in my opinion, not artistically, but in terms of pure terror; it's a really great film), and "Bronco Billy" is considered a lost classic. I think "Honkytonk Man" is another overlooked really good film. Eastwood was able to take more risks than any other box office superstar because the films were inexpensive to make and the risk to the studio was small.
I'm a writer, and I'm working on a story for a "street western" - a genre film that has that feeling of those great films like "Varrick" and the others - and it's tough because crime is so high-tech nowadays. Nothing is simple. Actors nowadays are such wimps. There's no real men left.
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Well, society itself changed. So many of those tough-guy actors had fairly rough lives to begin with. People like Lee Marvin (actually from a rich family) fought in WWII, and guys like Steve McQueen, Charles Bronson -- and even Walter "Charley Varrick" Matthau -- came from very poor, hard lives that toughened them up. Clint Eastwood's father worked, but Clint's was a Depression-era youth, followed by Army service.
Our movie culture is very much a youth culture now, populated by kids raised in a more wealthy society. Its hard to use Leo DiCaprio and Matt Damon as tough guys -- but they do, anyway.
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Back to Peckinpah. He's a God. He's the man. But the last ten years of his career were rather unproductive. His last film, "The Osterman Weekend," was fun to watch, but so lacking in any of Peckinpah's personal touch that it makes you wonder he just checked out midway during production.(In fact, I think that may have happened).
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Peckinpah was a great star who burned brightly and then burned out. His history shows that drinking and drug use got ahold of him early on, and gradually infected his ability to physically direct a movie. You can literally SEE Peckinpah losing his touch, movie by movie. "The Killer Elite" (1975) has many scenes in which the actors make fun of the movie as they act in it. Why? Because everybody was on drugs and Peckinpah had no control over them. It became a big joke to them. Soon, producers wouldn't hire Peckinpah. Charles Bronson, offered a Peckinpah project, said: "I won't work with a drunk."
Even after "The Killer Elite," Sam got it together for at least one fine movie: "Cross of Iron." "Convoy" of 1978, was, ironically, his biggest hit other than "The Getaway" with McQueen(it was a rougher "Smokey and the Bandit," mainly directed by James Coburn on second unit.)
Ironically, Sam Peckinpah's final directing job before dying were two music videos for John Lennon's son, Julian. They were big hits on MTV.
Peckinpah died of a heart attack in his early 60's, roughly the same age (if not by the same causes) as other drinker-brawlers William Holden, Lee Marvin, Richard Boone. Peckinpah ruefully remarked about Holden's drunken fall against a night table that caused him to bleed to death from the head: "As Holden proved, its not the drinking that's dangerous to us drunks. It's those damn wooden night tables." Whatever. --
Speaking of Eastwood, who ever imagined he'd become the next John Ford? Remember his career at the end of the 80's? Remember when it looked like he was going to follow Burt Reynolds into commercial extinction? The past fifteen years has been such a renassaisance for him, as a director and actor, and what's great is that this great third part of his career has made critics and fans "reappraise" the rest of his overlooked directing career.
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Wait til joekiddlouischama gets back here. He is the imdb's reigning expert on Clint....
Actually, "Convoy" was offered to Hal Needham before that. They would've let him make that film with his pal Burt Reynolds but Needham was determined to do "Smokey and the Bandit" instead. I don't think "Convoy" was a good film, and I found "Cross of Iron" a hard sludge, really heavy going. People forget that Burt Reynolds was a serious actor before "Smokey and the Bandit."
About my comment about Burt and Clint. Well it's true. Clint was in trouble there. He looked, at that point, like he'd forgotten how to make popular entertainment. Like Reynolds, who tried to mix commercial films with more serious films like "Best Friends" and "The Man Who Loved Women," Clint's work was starting to slip at both ends of the spectrum. But then "Unforgiven," a script he said he'd been holding onto for a rainy day in his career(after Coppola passed on the film), was his redemption and launched the wonderful third phase of his career.
Every great movie star, to be great, needs a great third phase to their career. Bronson, Reynolds - and even McQueen, let's be honest - never had that, and I think it blights their legacies somewhat.
Hey, imagine if "Unforgiven" had used its original title "The Cut Whore Killings." That's a great title. That would've been a great title for a 70's exploitation movie directed by Monte Hellman or Lee Frost.
Clint's work was starting to slip at both ends of the spectrum.
I think that Bird (Eastwood, 1988) and White Hunter, Black Heart (Eastwood, 1990) are impressive and accomplished films, but certainly Eastwood's entertainment vehicles from those years (The Dead Pool, Pink Cadillac, The Rookie) were more lightweight and perfunctory than ever before.
Hey, imagine if "Unforgiven" had used its original title "The Cut Whore Killings." That's a great title. That would've been a great title for a 70's exploitation movie directed by Monte Hellman or Lee Frost.
And of course, David Webb Peoples wrote the script in 1976.
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Unforgiven (Eastwood, 1992) really forced everyone to sit up and reassess their view of Eastwood, often combing back through his career to find out what they'd missed the first time.
So now, over the past few years, "Josey Wales" is considered a great western, "Play Misty" is on par with "Psycho"(in my opinion, not artistically, but in terms of pure terror; it's a really great film), and "Bronco Billy" is considered a lost classic. I think "Honkytonk Man" is another overlooked really good film. Eastwood was able to take more risks than any other box office superstar because the films were inexpensive to make and the risk to the studio was small.
That's also true. Eastwood has stated that because he watched the studio's money carefully, it didn't mess with him and granted him autonomy. And I too deem Honkytonk Man (Eastwood, 1982) highly underrated. While Bronco Billy (Eastwood, 1980) is a gem, I like Honkytonk Man even better.
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Questions to which I have no answer : If "Bandolero" was the new release in '68, did "Hombre" make ANY money as a second feature? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wouldn't it have had to? I mean, weren't the revenues for the films counted individually?
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I really don't know. One of the more amusing aspects of being a film buff/fan/whatever is realizing that one doesn't always know the technical mechanics of the business.
Double-bills were a way of life up through the sixties/early seventies. The usual deal was to pair a new movie with a somewhat older one.
Using this example, I can only assume that if Bandolero was the "new release," it would earn more money than "Hombre" as its second feature. If the ticket were three bucks, maybe two to Bandelero and one to Hombre? (Of course, the theater gets a cut, too, so I'd have to change the math to make it work.)
I racked my mind for a possible answer and my muse, Hitchcock, provided it.
Truffaut in their 60's interview book, had a dialgoue with Hitchcock about "Marnie" that went something like this:
Truffaut: I understand "Marnie" didn't do too well at the box office. Hitchcock: Well, they re-released it on a double-bill with "The Birds," and it has made money by now.
"The Birds" (1963) was older than "Marnie" (1964), so one assumes that on a double bill of "Marnie" with the older "Birds," maybe "Marnie" would get some more money. Of course, as I think Hitchcock was puckishly saying, you add "The Birds" to the double-bill and of course the less fantastic, more dramatic "Marnie" will do better.
Indeed, those Eastwood Westerns would be double-and-triple billed for dollars. Whether indoor grind house theaters or outdoor drive-ins, you could run those movies for eight hour stretches and fans would show up in droves.
Another memory: once more than a few James Bond movies existed, old ones would be double-billed while you waited for a new one to be made. "Goldfinger" and "Dr No" on the same double-bill while "Thunderball" was being made, for instance. They double-billed those Bonds for years, in different combinations, until they finally started showing Bonds on TV in the 70's. I caught up on the Bond movies I hadn't been allowed to see when I was older and they were on double-bill re-releases.
On drive-ins in general: they were part of my family life as a kid, and then real fun in the teenage years. Technically, the drive-in experience is awful: the sound is tinny on the car speaker, late daylight makes the picture hard to see early on and as the night goes on, the picture gets dark and murky. But in the 70's, so many movies were made under such cheap budgetary conditions, you didn't care. Spaghetti Westerns, Kung Fu movies, Bronson movies, British horror movies. Didn't matter.
I think once movies got "technically perfect" in the 80's and 90's, it was harder to get people to stand still for drive-in imperfections. That, land values and video/DVDs (so you could watch movies at home with your little kids) killed off the drive-ins, in the main.
Roger Ebert, noting the technical deficiencies of the drive-in movie projection/sound experience, has written: "I like the concept of going to a drive-in better than I like the actuality of doing so."
Using this example, I can only assume that if Bandolero was the "new release," it would earn more money than "Hombre" as its second feature. If the ticket were three bucks, maybe two to Bandelero and one to Hombre? (Of course, the theater gets a cut, too, so I'd have to change the math to make it work.)
That does make some sense. I've also heard of Dirty Harry/Magnum Force double-bills ...
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The theaters get a cut - about half of the receipts although the studios command up to 80 percent of the opening weekend take which is why studios care so much about those opening weekends - but imagine trying to collect receipts or keep track of accounting back in the drive-in days.
Speaking of second bills, I was watching "U-571" on the weekend. A decent film. Gets the job done. But my thought was that it was exactly the kind of the film that would've been a "second bill" back in the 50s or 60s.
A great example of a second bill, prototypical example, was "Narrow Margin," the 1950s version.
Getting back to Clint. The only time in his career he ever induldged himself on a big budget film was with "Firefox" and he said it was one of his least favorite films.
Getting back to Clint. The only time in his career he ever induldged himself on a big budget film was with "Firefox" and he said it was one of his least favorite films.
Firefox (Eastwood, 1982), to me, is Eastwood's second-worst directorial film, only ahead of The Rookie (Eastwood, 1990). Eastwood's sense of rhythm and script management just seem to be off his usual mark.
I think that Space Cowboys (Eastwood, 2000) also featured a fairly large budget, and the same might be true of his upcoming Iwo Jima films.
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We're talking about a whole different era, world here. The 1970s. This was a decade, remember, when you could make a film for $3 Million(on the high end for alot of genre pictures)and have a successful run in the drive-in and neighborhood movie circuits. You know, a film like "Billy Jack"(hey, that's a film we didn't talk about)could make a $100 Million(can you believe that?)from town to town, theater to theater. Nowadays, the movie business is run from coumputers, and movies are booked with the click of a mouse. The average movie costs $62 Million to make.
That's very true. The change in distribution patterns (towards homogeneity and even more of a "mass culture") has removed many of the niche markets that, as ecarle indicates, largely defined the Western's box-office impact. Frankly, I think that it happened with music, too, around the same time (late seventies, early eighties).
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I would like to share that back in the 60's and 70's, a major movie might take weeks or months to reach certain cities.
One I recall is "Deliverance," the Burt Reynolds bad canoe trip movie. It opened in Los Angeles and New York in the summer of 1972, but was held for other US cities until Christmas of 1972. In between, it simply disappeared for a few months.
In the 60's, the more standard practice was to "platform" the most major of movies. Using Los Angeles as the example again, you'd find a big movie like "My Fair Lady" playing for maybe a year in one showcase downtown LA theater at "top dollar prices." Then, a year later, it would get released in more prints to the "nabes" (neighborhood theaters in the many suburbs) with the phrase "Now at regular prices at a theater or drive-in near you."
So if you didn't go downtown to see "My Fair Lady" in 1964, you might not see it until 1965 or 1966 at "a theater or drive-in near you."
Consequently, movie grosses in "the old days" could take years to fully total up.
Speaking of great 70's crime films, one of the best is "The Friends of Eddie Coyle," with Robert Mitchum in one of his best performances as an old criminal who knows where all of the skeletons are and sells out his friends to the feds.
But what's interesting about "Coyle" is that it's not on DVD, not even on video, and I want to know why.
Have any of you seen this on television? I remember years ago it used to make the rounds on television, and of course now, I'd kill to catch it on television.
Hopefull, TCM or AMC will broadcast it again soon.
I mean, I'm more talking about "Coyle" in terms of its legend and my faded memories because you can't get it anywhere!
Actually, Mitch's last truly great starring role was in the great remake of "Farwell My Lovely."
"The Friends of Eddie Coyle" is another perfect 70's crime film; gritty, realistic and wintry.
I don't know why it isn't on DVD or video. It's usually one of two reasons: (1) Studio owner doesn't believe it is worth the expense or (2) ownership rights are legally in question so nobody has the legal right TO put it on DVD/video.
I saw it on TV last year. Maybe it'll get broadcast soon, because it is about the Boston mob -- and so is Scorcese's upcoming movie, "The Departed" with Jack Nicholson and all those kids.
"Farewell My Lovely" is probably Mitchum's last fine movie role, though his remake of "The Big Sleep" is interesting sacrilige: Mitchum as Marlowe (again); Jimmy Stewart, Joan Collins, and Richard Boone in support, with the tale moved from LA to LONDON!
Kubrick's "The Killing" is a mighty fine fifties noir. It must be seen in tandem with Huston's earlier "The Asphalt Jungle." Both movies star tough guy Sterling Hayden, and they are very similar. Kubrick was rather "homaging" the earlier film -- his way.
The definition of a "street western" or neo western is any genre film that could easily be a western were the setting different. ... virtually all of Peckinpah's films. "The Getaway," "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia," "Junior Bonner" are all westerns.
Agree. Peckinpah also was fascinated with the SW US and Mexico. The gathering (who can forget the guys in cowboy hats in the convertible?) and shootout at the Laughlin Hotel in "The Getaway" is classic Western ("a nervous way to live") as are some of the scenes in Alfredo Garcia. In fact, some of the early Alfredo Garcia scenes seemed to purposely try to trick the viewer into thinking they were about to see a Western.
Of more recent vintage, "The Way of the Gun" falls into the modern Western genre.
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Other great 70s crime, street western, tough guy, action films?
I'm surprised nobody seems to have mentioned "GET CARTER" and "THE DAY OF THE JACKAL", IMHO two of the greatest films of the 70s.
Other movies from the 70s I'd recommend, which haven't been mentioned yet but fit in the category or I think you also might enjoy, are: "STRAW DOGS" "PERFORMANCE" "THE WICKER MAN" "TAXI DRIVER" "PULP" "THE MACKINTOSH MAN"
"THE TAKING OF PELHAM ONE TWO THREE" (my favourite Walter Matthau film) has already been mentioned. reply share
In case no one's mentioned it, Prime Cut is one of the best -- and strangely one of the most obscure -- '70s crime films. 1972, Lee Marvin, Gene Hackman, Sissy Spacek, a hard R rating, and a great Lalo Schifrin score.