MAJOR DUNDEE: Blu-ray re-re-issue (Columbia, 1965) Arrow Academy

The critical rodomontade that continues to swirl around director, Sam Peckinpah has always baffled me, nowhere more so than on the much touted 2005 ‘restoration’ of Major Dundee (1965) - a much maligned western drama in which Peckinpah was forced to sacrifice his original vision and helpless to watch as his rough cut assembly was further butchered in the editing process without his approval, only to be unceremoniously dumped on the market where it instantly fell into critical and financial disgrace. Peckinpah had run into opposition from Columbia – the studio footing the bills – and non-compliance from his producer, Jerry Bresler (a yes man for the front office). But in 2005, some seventeen years after Peckinpah’s death, critics like Boston’s Chris Fujwara and The Washington Post’s Steven Hunter were falling all over themselves with superlatives extolling the restored version as “magnificent…a unique piece of threatening…alcoholic cinema” with “high-end adult” themes and “a better grade of savagery” carrying with it the ballast of “actual ideas…back in all the fractured glory and confidence.” So, conversely, I would just like to go on record to suggest that the only thing “fractured” herein is the movie – either in its theatrical or ‘restored’ edit – neither, an approximation of what Peckinpah envisioned.  If there was a masterpiece in the making, it certainly has not found its way to home video. What little claim of faith in Peckinpah’s personal aspirations for Major Dundee, perchance to earmark it for greatness, has been virtually emasculated in what's here. Peckinpah began shooting without a finished script and basically worked with only an extremely fragmented outlook for the finished product ricocheting in the alcohol-soaked creative ether of his own head.  In hindsight, Peckinpah’s unwillingness to revisit the movie years later seems to attest to a painful divorce from its artistic implosion, his ‘high-end savagery’ to forever remain a rather hapless regurgitation of violence for violence’s sake, a penchant Peckinpah doubtless found nearly impossible to reappraise honestly without nursing a very large bottle of scotch.

Peckinpah had initially assigned the script-writing duties to Harry Julian Fink – a middling writer, more prolific in television than the movies. Dissatisfied with Fink’s prose – as, at 163 pages they did tend to ramble on…and on – Peckinpah undertook to edit down the material himself with Oscar Saul – by no means a heavy-hitter, but with more movie credits to his name. Even so, the result of all this perpetual tinkering, at least in hindsight, gave way to the old adage of “too many cooks spoiling the broth”. While Peckinpah had ambitions to create a sweeping epic of the western genre, comparable to David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia (1962 – and Peckinpah’s favorite movie), what he ultimately succeeded in resurrecting was the modest Monogram B-programmer with an A-list roster and production values that nearly sent Columbia into a fiscal tizzy. Displeased with Peckinpah’s glacial pacing and the performances throughout, the picture was eventually taken away from Peckinpah in the eleventh hour, and, in a last-ditch effort to save it from both the director’s vision and itself. Alas, to no avail. Major Dundee is an intimate western drama. Yet, in casting Charlton Heston as his titular hero, Peckinpah all but diffused the ill-fated chimerical saga into one where its larger-than-life protagonist was quite unable to part the wilderness with a wave of his mighty hand, to lead his people onward without sacrificing his own powers as a major star. Heston championed Peckinpah’s vision for the movie when no one else seemed even mildly interested in making the movie. But he was to regret this decision when the director embarked upon an irascible odyssey of perfection, leading instead to much consternation and a movie where bloat and rot were more the order of the hour than fortune and glory. Heston’s towering performance – however subtly nuanced – is nevertheless working against type here. Not that Heston ever played a steely-eyed bastard before. Indeed, he had, convincingly for William Wyler, and in the sprawling western classic, The Big Country (1958).

But Charlton Heston and Maj. Amos Charles Dundee do not go together. Heston gives a very credible performance. But the starch in those army britches is just a wee too stiff, the character never evolving beyond a very cold-hearted martinet who briefly loses himself in the arms of a Hispanic prostitute (Aurora Clavell), and this - after having already seduced the top-heavy Teresa Santiago (Senta Berger) during an afternoon swim. The inability of Heston and Peckinpah to give this character even an ounce of empathy, instead manifests into a cruel taskmaster, with Heston’s unapologetic adherence to Peckinpah’s vision yielding a characterization dangerously close to becoming the villain of the piece. Indeed, by the last act the audience is more apt to root for the doomed southern Capt. Benjamin Tyreen (Richard Harris) – who meets with a vicious, if heroic fate – than the impenetrable and Teutonic Dundee, still willing to sacrifice every last man in his detail to save his own face by apprehending the blood-thirsty Apache marauder, Sierra Charriba (Michael Pate). In retrospect, Harris’ performance is the standout – full of contempt for Dundee’s methods, though not without more than a modicum of self-loathing to challenge the audience to dig a bit deeper into his motivations and ultimately come to respect Tyreen’s sacrifice. The others in the cast, Jim Hutton as the regimented Lieutenant Graham, Michael Anderson Jr. as bugler, Tim Ryan (on whose surviving diaries this story is supposedly based), and particularly James Coburn’s masterful rendering of the one-armed native guide, Samuel Potts – these offer the briefest of reprieves and escape from Dundee’s thriving oppressions. But in the end, they are not enough to make us forget what a terrific monument to the damned Major Dundee – the man and the movie - is; the man, a polarizing force who maintains the flimsiest tyrannical control over his men, exploiting nothing more than the crude art of intimidation to keep his men resentful, yet also, regrettably, in line.

Adding to Peckinpah’s woes, Columbia chose to slash the film’s budget by a million and cut his shooting schedule down by fifteen days, just two days before principal photography was about to begin.  Peckinpah’s ability to work under such conditions bears out his commitment – not simply to the actors or the film – but to will a finished product more finely wrought than the average fare of its day, yet painfully out of step with what the paying public wanted to see. The other great sin foisted upon the production, after Columbia executives decided to oust Peckinpah from the director’s chair and recut the movie themselves, is its jaunty Daniele Amfiteatrof score – full of rousing marches and other rambunctious orchestrations, better suited for a Mexican fiesta on Olivera Street than the somber depiction of one man’s spiral into a darkly purposed and self-imposed purgatory.  For the 2005 ‘restoration’ a new score was commissioned from Christopher Caliendo, more in keeping with Peckinpah’s original plan. Yet this too remains myopic at best – the story hardly improved by the added 14-minutes of ‘lost’ footage reinstated into the tale. There is simply more to consider and – unfortunately – less to admire.  Howard Kunin, William A. Lyon and Donald W. Starling’s editing retreats into a series of visually overlapping montages. We are exposed to Sam Leavitt’s breathtaking cinematography, stark, wide-open vistas of the Mexican landscapes Peckinpah adored, yet imperfectly cut down into snippets awkwardly assembled like a jigsaw puzzle with certain pieces that still do not fit, and some, forcibly wedged made to lend the appearance of a perfect interlock.        

The story, such as it is, involves Union cavalry officer Major Amos Charles Dundee, mildly disgraced at the Battle of Gettysburg and relegated to the wilds of New Mexico where he micro-manages a prisoner of war camp. Prior to the main titles, we witness the blood-thirsty Apache leader, Sierra Charriba and his men massacre a small village of ranchers – men, women and female children – as well as Union cavalry sent there to protect them. Hence, when Dundee arrives with guide, Samuel Potts he is committed to digging a mass grave. Upon returning to the camp Dundee decides to enlist as many of his prisoners for a special detail to hunt down Charriba. But Dundee’s motives are hardly altruistic or even in service of achieving justice for the fallen. Instead, his is an enterprising and egotistical plan to rebuild his own tarnished reputation as a great military man. Capt. Benjamin Tyreen is hardly fooled. Yet, he remains chivalrous to a fault. Tyreen’s innate hatred of Dundee stems from an incident before the war when the Major cast his deciding vote in Tyreen's court-martial from the U.S. Army for participating in a duel. In the theatrical cut, our first encounter with Tyreen occurs after Dundee has already returned to base camp. He admonishes Tyreen’s refusal – and that of his fellow Confederates - to enlist in the cause of murdering Charriba. In the extended cut, we meet Tyreen and these men as they strike a guard in their feeble escape attempt. Apprehended by Dundee and brought back in chains, Tyreen and his men are informed the guard they meant to merely wound has died of his injuries. Having been told by Tyreen he would rather hang than serve, Dundee accepts Tyreen’s terms and begins to build his gallows. This stalemate is eventually broken by Tyreen, who physically assaults Dundee while still in chains and confers on him the terms for his complicity in the plot. Tyreen and his men will hunt until the last Apache is dead, but with a full pardon awaiting them.

Although Dundee never actually agrees to these conditions, he does not outwardly reject them either. Tyreen also promises that when the war against the Apache has ended, his own private war against Dundee will begin, resulting in the Major’s disgrace and execution. Begrudgingly valued for his soldiering, as well as his gumption, a weird détente is established between Dundee and Tyreen – tenuous at best, and infrequently threatening to break under pressure. Still, when push comes to shove, both men represent a united front that adheres to the mark of valor ascribed true military men. This is one of the oddities of the screenplay, for Tyreen repeatedly tells Dundee he has no country after the Civil War and seemingly zero loyalties to the newly formed United States of America. This strained alliance is divided along lines of class – cavalry vs. prisoners – further splintered by ‘north vs. south’ and ‘colored vs. white’. When these factions are not busy warring with each other, they infrequently engage the Apache in several disastrous battles that brutalize the men and inflict many casualties. Charriba and his posse retreat to Mexico, garrisoned by French troops loyal to Emperor Maximilian. Knowing to cross the border means a direct confrontation, Dundee nevertheless orders his men across the Rio Grande, into a small impoverished town overseen by Teresa Santiago, whose husband was executed for supporting Benito Juárez’s rebels.  

In a previous altercation with Charriba, Dundee lost most of his garrisons’ supplies – badly needed foodstuffs he was hoping to recoup in the village. Instead, Dundee shares what little remains with the impoverished villagers, allowing French forces to escape for backup. When these do indeed return to the village Dundee ambushes them by night, taking his lion’s share of badly-needed supplies. Although Tyreen is cordial to Teresa, it is Dundee who conquers her heart – albeit very briefly. In an unguarded moment Dundee is wounded in the leg by Charriba’s arrow and forced to hold up in the French-occupied village of Durango – presumably for weeks – while Tyreen moves the men onward in search of this Apache viper. Losing himself in drink and self-pity, Dundee is discovered in the arms of a Spanish prostitute, Melinche (Aurora Clavell) by Teresa who abruptly ends their vacuous affair, telling Dundee that for some men “the war will never be over.” Capt. Tyreen returns with boastful swagger, challenging and humiliating Dundee in order to shake him loose of his inner regrets. A reformed Dundee returns to his men, feigning a sudden loss of desire to apprehend Charriba. The Apache leader falls for the ruse and plans his final attack, determined to murder Dundee and his men. Affectingly, Charriba’s arrival is met with a clever ambush instead. Bugler, Tim Ryan – who has ‘become a man’ by losing his virginity to a Spanish girl - fires the fatal shot that puts a period to Charriba’s reign of terror. Their mission completed, Dundee and his men are outflanked by the French at the Rio Grande, making repeated valiant charges to cross it but incurring massive casualties, including Tyreen – who, wounded but still bitter, defies death to delay a second detachment of French cavalry single-handedly. Dundee and his fragmented forces cross the river and head for home.

In either its extended or truncated form, Major Dundee remains a curious flop, its’ epic quality, useful perhaps, only to describe the persistently misfires at every conceivable turn and on practically every artistic level… and this, despite Peckinpah’s rather obvious attempts to will a silk purse from its sow’s ear. The strangeness of this artistic implosion is Major Dundee never catches even the tail fires from its weighty performers giving it their all, coupled with its straggly landscapes meticulously lensed by Sam Leavitt, but rendered muddy and dull in Pathe’s flawed Eastmancolor process. These invoke world-weariness all too readily apparent in Heston’s mellifluous performance as the dower Dundee, but regrettably do not equate to, foreshadow or even infer a looming sense of foreboding - no grand gesture of tragedy for which Peckinpah’s modus operandi for the picture was always aimed.  The…uh…romance between Teresa and Dundee is more dulcet than juicy and all but eclipsed by another - the fiery bro-mantic chemistry between Tyreen and Dundee, who clearly share more than a passing mutual admiration beneath their outward derision of one another.  Peckinpah has made it all too easy to disregard and dislike Major Dundee. The flaw is not entirely his to bear. But in the final analysis, Major Dundee is a major blunder, exposed by no-less than 3 outings on hi-def home video. Point blank: this one has not improved with age. Peckinpah’s marker gets relocated from glory to gumbo. Even the extended cut seems like too much of a very bad thing – the prolonged scenes interminably to drag. Comparatively, the pacing of the shorter theatrical cut offers a ‘cleaner’, if hopelessly by-the numbers narrative approach. Too bad, the essential tension is all but ruined here by Daniele Amfitheatrof’s brutally buoyant underscore, laughingly making some of the visuals play like a badly blunted operetta rather than a western saga. Christopher Caliendo’s 2005 score parallels and punctuates the action far more astutely on the extended cut, but it fails to find any moment in which a leitmotif might otherwise have been substituted – even briefly – to counterbalance all the oblique doom and gloom.

Restored by Sony Home Entertainment in 2005, Major Dundee has received 3 Blu-ray reissues, the first from the defunct indie label, Twilight Time. The second was farmed out to Aussie distributor, ViaVision as part of their Imprint line. Now, we get Major Dundee from Arrow Media. All 3 releases are ‘region free’. Only the latter two are still in print, each, fetching a very high price of more than $60-70. Image quality on all 3 releases is virtually identical. We have been given the rare opportunity to watch both cuts, each on a separate disc with varying extra features. For these purposes, only the Arrow Media release will be discussed. The 1080p image has been consistently rendered, illustrating the shortcomings of Pathe Eastmancolor. The image is very thick and grainy. Blue skies flicker purplish/brown. Sequences shot at night continue to register much too dark – particularly in the extended cut. Our introduction to Tyreen is an abysmal sea of blackness from which only Richard Harris’ gaunt face occasionally emerges as a disembodied head. Flesh tones throughout are more ruddy orange, though infrequently can look fairly accurate. Grain has been accurately reproduced. Again, the Eastman stock translates most of the outdoor landscapes into an indistinguishable brownish mess. Trees are muddy grayish green rather than vibrant. Blue skies are washed out. These are not – repeat – not a flaw in the mastering process. Sony has done their utmost to preserve the original look of the film. The audio on both cuts is 5.1 DTS but sounds infinitely more refined on the 2005 extended cut – perhaps because effects and dialogue had to be remixed with the newly recorded Caliendo underscore. 

In regards to extras, Arrow’s tips the scales for the most comprehensive collection of goodies. Disc One – the extended cut – contains the original Twilight Time audio commentary, to feature the late Nick Redman, David Weddle, Garner Simmons, Paul Seydor. There are two additional commentary tracks here, the second, costarring critics, Glenn Erickson & Alan K. Rode, and the other, with Erickson going it alone. Of the 3 commentaries, the TT original is the most succinct at getting to Peckinpah’s passion for the work. A half-hour video essay by David Cairns, ‘Moby Dick on Horseback’ is fascinating. We also get Passion and Poetry, the feature-length doc, running an hour and fifteen minutes, and featuring reflections from surviving cast and crew, as well as another half-hour of reflections on Peckinpah from those who worked with him, plus an almost hour-long ‘making of’ by Mike Siegel, extensive stills galleries and a theatrical reissue trailer from 2005. On Disc Two – the theatrical cut – we get a vintage Columbia junket, barely lasting 7 minutes. A reel of extended/deleted scenes follow, not even 7 minutes, with Erickson providing a running commentary, and a small assemblage of international trailers. Shorn from the ViaVision release – the isolated score options. Oh well, can’t have everything. But this comes pretty close. Bottom line: the extras are more entertaining than the movie. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

2.5