The Shootist

There are so many movies about old gunslingers that it seems like a contradiction: you wouldn’t expect that many tales of old gunslingers, because you figure not too many of them make it to be old, given the nature of their pursuits. Yet, here’s another one, featuring that oldest of old pistol packers, John Wayne, who is perfectly believable as a veteran of the range who is dying of cancer. (He would succumb to the disease in real life not long afterwards.) Lauren Bacall is a bit frosty as the widow who provides the outlaw with room and board and a bit of sympathy. Able support comes from another veteran of the genre, James Stewart, in a small but meaningful role as a doctor. Meanwhile, the real star of the film may be Harry Morgan, who is an absolute hoot as the local lawman who gives Wayne’s character a regular earful. The weak link here may be Ron Howard as the impressionable youth who takes a shine to the old gunslinger; let’s say it’s a good thing that directing worked out for him. This movie was late-period Western storytelling, both in when it came out (1976) and in setting (1901 in Carson City, well after the frontier had been officially closed). That gives the production an interesting feel, one that conveys a sense of change—of, indeed, things passing away—more so than what you get in the traditional oater full of horses, wide open spaces, and black and white morality. Nevertheless, the film still delivers its share of shootouts, old-time Americana, and the presence of one of the genre’s legends—still delivering the goods even at the end of the ride. As ways to go go, this one hits the target. 

The Secret of NIMH

Why did every movie circa ’82 have to have Dom DeLuise in it? This movie is celebrated as director Don Bluth's magnum effort to preserve the classic animation style of his former employer—specifically, the ultra-realistic style of Disney films from the studio's original burst of cinematic success in the prewar era. In terms of this work's visuals, Bluth largely succeeded. Everything looks fantastic here, and the drawings provide the sort of real-world setting that grounds an animated story and gives the audience a sharper sense of the story’s truth. Unfortunately, movies are composed of not just visuals but of characters and narrative, too. With the former, the DeLuise question is germane. The unfunny comic's presence as the crow Jonathan indicates Bluth's devotion to old (and, indeed, current) Disney standards to a fault, by including a comic relief persona whose only purpose seems to be to bring advancement of the story to a grinding, grating halt. It is a fault that is shared by other actors as well; many of the characters are simply played too broadly. The plot moves better when the focus remains more closely on Mrs. Brimsby and the rats of NIMH; there, you have an actual interesting storyline to pay attention to. But even there, the scenes featuring the heroine and her children are too treacly for my taste. Speaking of which, the closing song, with vocals by profoundly ’70s lounge lizard Paul Williams, is a truly ghastly number, the kind of sickly sweet tune that you can’t believe exists as anything other than a parody of an animated movie’s closing song. Lastly, it’s worth mentioning that some of the more outlandish story elements come across as downright ridiculous given the mostly prosaic setting of the tale; it’s difficult to buy in on the magical doings, much of which occur without any context. Ultimately, that’s a judgment that holds true throughout on this film: terrific visuals and a decent story that are let down by an oddly off-kilter tone that pervades all the way through. It’s no wonder, then, that a film that had such promise, and essentially made such promises, ultimately came up short of success, even if it did eventually find enough following to become a cult favorite. The real secret revealed here: you can’t just get by doing one thing right—you have to put the whole package together.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

A civics lesson masquerading as a western showdown movie. This one is not just well-acted and well-written, but interesting in director John Ford's storytelling technique, employing flashbacks and nonlinear plot the way many more recent movies have. Lead actors John Wayne, James Stewart and Lee Marvin portray complimentary and contrasting archetypes, while a number of excellent supporting players flesh out the cast very well. This flick adds to the growing body of evidence to be found in filmdom -- particularly westerns -- about just how important guns were, and therefore are, to this society; it's become clear to this viewer, at least, that understanding this country's explains continuing mania for firearms is impossible if you don't watch old movies. Nevertheless, the film also makes a strong case that law and a civil society must rest upon something greater than a hail of bullets. Finally, the story's climax satisfies, and then its ultimate end delivers a provocative final scent. Really excellent work, and better than many more revered westerns--it should be on everyone's watch list.

Stagecoach

It's good. Classic good? Maybe. Most of the movie is entertaining, though it suffers through some dead spots. Still, plenty of by the book Western flair, some good characterizations, and the amazing views of Monument Valley make it worth at least a look, if not deep love.