When I first sauntered into the Landmark Theatre to take in "Assassination of Jesse James", I was unfamiliar with the events leading up to the demise of the notorious outlaw.
As the opening scenes unfolded, I was fascinated by the psychological facets of the intriguing tale.
A young gun idolizes Jesse James, slyly maneuvers to be within a hair's breath of his hero, angles for the role of sidekick, and then - when spurned like an unwanted lover - turns on him.
In adept hands, "Jesse James" would have been a taut, powerful, character-driven story.
Here, we're treated to a plodding, sloppy, throw-away vehicle for Brad Pitt which ultimately gets stolen out from under him by relative newcomer Casey Affleck.
In the role of Ford, Affleck - with one, suggestive glance - manages to convey what it takes Pitt a minute or two of serious over-acting to accomplish.
Obviously, the pop culture icon approached the role on the premise that "uneasy is the head that wears the crown".
His portrayal amounts to a rogue's gallery of oft-misunderstood glances, and the occasional searing one that hints at gears turning clickety-clack inside a shrewd, calculating head; but in the final analysis, each is devoid of insight or depth.
If there's a mysterious persona beneath the skin of Jesse James, it fails to register up on the screen.
One scene sums up the underlying theme of the film to a "t".
One lazy afternoon, Ford is bathing in a wide deep tub outdoors when he turns to encounter a gang member studying him.
At one point, during a brief conversation, the unshaven cowboy leans over and observes that for a guy who's small in the scheme of things he's pretty well-endowed.
Without batting an eye, Ford replies, "You here to look at dick?"
Ah, yes.
The film is about posturing, guys sizing each other up, and falling into line accordingly.
The big honcho that he is - Jesse need only bark "lick my boots" - and one of the boys would oblige, "Sir!"
Ford, at least.
In fact, there are so many curious meaningful glances between Ford and James, that one half expects the two to haplessly fall into each other's arms at one juncture and kiss. Yes, an underlying theme appears to be that the two were inclined towards latent homo-erotic tendencies.
Although the saga unfolds lamely enough on its own - to help things along - some genius at the studio concocted the idea to facilitate the use of a narrative; a clever (!) device to fill in the gaps (many!), head the audience in the right direction (did we care?), with the ultimate aim of dissipating the surreal fog that most assuredly clouds our sensibilities as the movie jogs along at a snail's pace.
Heck, even the gravely high-pitched tone of the narrator's voice grated on my nerves. Just awful!
When it came to casting voice-over talent the director couldn't even get that right!
Over the years, Westerns have transformed into a form of distinctive American entertainment.
Typically, a plot may fix on a gang of tight-lipped cowboys who shoot from the hip, ready to spring into action, nab the villain, save the homestead - whatever.
Heh, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
The larger-than-life Western is usually played for keeps against a breathtaking expanse or captivating wild-west backdrop.
And, conflicts are often resolved spur-of-the moment in a drunken brawl or impromptu moment of trigger-happy deadly gun play.
In the final stretch - order is resolved - you betcha! Come hell or high water.
Film scholars point out the genre has portrayed much about America's past - exalted faded values - for instance; often taken a sacred bow to a mythical by-gone era in the process.
In a nutshell, a lot was accomplished by pure physical action - with a keen eye towards wild runaway stagecoaches, bold-faced on-the-run holdups, and determined lawmen in hot pursuit.
In Jesse James, the cowboys belly-ache a lot, gossip (oh, I forgot; women gossip, men discuss), and quite generally, chortle endlessly ad nauseam about this 'n that.
The whole Kit 'n Kaboodle slip-slides along about about as fast as molasses in January.
About the time the audience starts to flip out their cell-hones to check the time, yawn, or doze off like the guy seated next to me - the film embarks on a wide turn into an epilogue. By this time, the filmgoer is half asleep or too groggy from all the lethargic goings-on to snap out of the haze they've fallen into.
When the final days of Ford's life are revealed, at least it's a sign that the curtain may be falling down soon on the whole sorry scenario.
As one historian astutely observed,
"The Western film genre often portrays the conquest of the wilderness and the subordination of nature, in the name of civilization, or the confiscation of the territorial rights of the original inhabitants of the frontier."
"It is the major defining genre of the American film industry, a nostalgic eulogy to the early days of the expansive, untamed American frontier (the borderline between civilization and the wilderness)."
In sum, the Western may be the oldest most enduring and flexible of genres - one most characteristically American - rooted in mythical origins.
Over the past few decades, Westerns has been written off, resurrected, redefined, even reinvented.
Although the genres' popularity waned in recent years, it has returned with new vigor with the resounding success of the release of movies like, "3:10 to Yuma".
In the instance of "Jesse James", the filmmakers have managed to "Assassinate an American Art Form", the Western.
