THE SHOOTIST: Blu-ray (Dino De Laurentiis/Paramount, 1976) Arrow Academy
Today, director Don
Siegel’s The Shootist (1976) is justly regarded as a seminal American
western classic. In its day, though critically well-received, it was little
more than a blip on the radar, despite a finely-nuanced performance from John
Wayne – his last – and arguably, in his ‘top ten’ all-time best. The Shootist
has other virtues, to be discussed momentarily. But Wayne, who in 1964 battled –
and beat - lung cancer (some say, owing to exposure to nuclear radiation while
making The Conqueror ten years earlier) endures as The Shootist’s
chief selling feature; by ’76, a towering figure in the cinema firmament whose
reputation, though somewhat maligned in the liberalized counterculture thrust
against his staunch conservatism throughout the decade, nevertheless marked him
as a cultural touchstone of that fast-retreating, era in the picture-making
biz. Wayne would die 3 years after The
Shootist, of stomach cancer, also, retrospectively attributed to that
infamous mid-fifties shoot in the desert. And while cancer has many paths, one cannot entirely
dismiss that out of 220 cast and crew who worked on The Conqueror, 91 were
later similarly stricken, 46 dying of some form of the disease. Coincidence? I
think not.
Though The
Shootist indicates the final movie role for ‘the Duke’, it would not
be Wayne’s final public appearance. At 1978’s annual Oscar telecast, emcee, Bob
Hope (in his final tour of duty as Oscar’s gris eminence) paid tribute
to Wayne, then recovering from open-heart surgery. Reigning in his emotions,
Hope declared, “Duke, we miss you here tonight. We expect to see you amble
out here in person next year, because nobody else can walk in John Wayne’s
boots.” True to the spirit of the old west, or at least, Hollywood’s
glamorized version of it, Wayne did ‘amble out’ on Oscar’s stage for one last
hurrah, but sadly, died later that year, age 72, leaving the future of the
Hollywood western in question, but an irrefutable legacy of 175 movies – an unprecedented
number of them still revered within the annals of film lore. Now, that truly
is a body of work! Arguably, The Shootist is among these hallowed
stars in Wayne’s crown.
The Shootist is the only
time Wayne and Siegel worked together, conspiring on an adaptation of Glendon
Swarthout’s novel of the same name. Swarthout’s story had been a skillfully
executed critique into the working mind of a hired gun, arguably well passed
his prime and contemplating his mortality. To co-writers, Miles Hood Swarthout
(Glendon’s son) and Scott Hale’s credit, not to mention Wayne’s weathered,
though clear-eyed and unvarnished turn as John Bernard Books, much of this
inner tumult and sobering reflection remains poignantly intact. If nothing
else, The Shootist is unsentimental, though gravely compassionate in its
swan song to the American west, and, to Wayne’s fictionalized glory days, galloping
over the sagebrush and tumbleweed. In the gritty epoch of the seventies, The
Shootist is far removed from the pictorial magnificence of the bygone John
Ford/Howard Hawks’ painterly landscapes of yore. And yet, there is great
character here, a moody virtue, and, an unsettling reverence, and, perhaps most
gratifying of all, an unapologetic frankness, fragrant to the scruff and saddle
sect only to have truth eclipsed in an aftermath of unreasonable facsimiles,
masquerading as such.
John Wayne’s
participation on The Shootist seems a foregone conclusion. Indeed, producer,
Mike Frankovich noted Wayne’s passion to play the lead, as Book resembled Jimmy
Ringo, a part Wayne had turned down in The Gunfighter (1950) but later
regretted. However, Paramount was weary to hire Wayne, owing to his failing
health and stamina. This had plagued him during the making of his penultimate
pic, Rooster Cogburn (1975). So, Paramount pitched the project to talent
it believed could do better: Paul Newman, George C. Scott, Charles Bronson,
Gene Hackman, and Clint Eastwood. Everyone turned it down. So, Wayne’s name reentered
negotiations. Though a bout of influenza did sideline Wayne during the shoot,
his swift recovery did not cause any significant production delays. And
Paramount’s executive brain trust could not forsake the dailies, illustrating
Wayne had lost none of his true grit in the intervening years. Contrary to
rumors, Wayne was not dying of cancer at the time he made The Shootist. True
enough, the cancer of ’64 necessitated the removal of Wayne’s left lung and
several ribs. But it succeeded at staving off the disease until 1979, when it
returned and rapidly spread to his stomach, intestines, and spine.
To accommodate
Wayne’s requests, various aspects of the original story were altered for the
movie. In the novel, Books is victorious but shoots his opponent in the back. The
character is then superficially wounded by a bartender and dispatched with
completely by Gillom – the young buck deemed his successor. Wayne insisted his
screen reputation would not allow him to murder a man from behind. He also
insisted the bartender – not Gillom - administer the fatal shot. Wayne also
insisted on costars with whom he had previously worked; Lauren Bacall, Richard
Boone, John Carradine, Hugh O’Brien, Harry Morgan and most notably, James
Stewart, who came out of retirement to partake. Wayne was also particular about
his horse; negotiating terms for his favorite sorrel gelding – Dollar – whom he
had ridden in Big Jake, The Cowboys, True Grit, Rooster Cogburn, Chisum,
and The Train Robbers. Paramount obliged its star on all counts. While rumors
abounded, regarding a tender friction between star and director, Siegel later expressed
his utmost respect for Wayne’s talent and contributions on the picture.
Plot wise: we
are introduced to John Bernard ‘J.B.’ Books, a sheriff-come-gunslinger who has
thirty-plus notches on his gun belt. Facing his emeritus years, Books arrives
in Carson City and is soon confronted with a robber he easily subdues. Not long
thereafter, Books faces down creamery owner, Jay Cobb (Bill McKinney) whose
assistant, Gillom Rogers (Ron Howard) skillfully negotiates a truce before
things can get out of hand. Books then pays a call on E.W. ‘Doc’ Hostetler
(James Stewart), the physician who treated his gunshot wounds fifteen years earlier.
Doc confirms Books is dying of cancer and has only weeks to live. Doc prescribes
laudanum for the pain, but knows Books condition will soon render its effects
moot. Under a false name, Books takes up
residency at a boarding house operated by Bond Rogers (Lauren Bacall), Gillom's
widowed mother. Gillom, however, unearths the truth about the man and informs mum,
who then summons Marshal Walter Thibido (Harry Morgan) to deal with the matter.
Books admits to his identity, but confides in Bond and Gillom, he is dying. He
also makes no apology for his life, explaining he only dispatched those who
deserved his particular brand of frontier justice.
Alas, it does
not take long before Books celebrity catches the tail fire of gossips. Local
journalist, Dan Dobkins (Rick Lenz) tries to do an interview, but is chased off
by Books. Meanwhile, Serepta (Sheree North) Books’ one-time lover, now asks to
marry him. Learning of her intent to co-author a biography, comprised largely
of fictionalized and lurid accounts of his life, Book rejects Serepta’s insincere
proposal. Instead, he orders a headstone from Beckum (John Carradine) but rebukes
the undertaker's offer to provide a free funeral, suspecting Beckum intends to
turn Books’ last rights into a carnival sideshow. Bond fears her son’s hero
worship of Books. Favoring the boy, Books teaches Gillom how to shoot, but
imparts the following wisdom, “I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and
I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I
require the same from them.” Books now instructs Gillom to visit three men,
Mike Sweeney (Richard Boone), an aging outlaw whose brother Books shot in
self-defense; lethal crack shot and Fargo dealer, Jack Pulford (Hugh O’Brien),
and, Cobb. Gillom is to tell all three, Books will be at the Metropole Saloon
at 11:00 am on January 29 – his birthday. Books bequeaths Gillom his beloved
horse, Ole Dollar, and departs the boarding house, presumably, for the last
time.
Arriving at the
saloon, Books finds Cobb, Pulford and Sweeney already arrived. Books orders the
finest whiskey and toasts his three ‘guests’. Cobb’s itchy trigger finger
causes him to make the first attempt on Books’ life. Distracting Cobb with a
bottle of whiskey, Books guns him down. Sweeney then successfully wounds Books
in the arm. But Books shoots through the table Sweeney is using as his shield,
killing him instantly. Pulford tries to sneak up on Books. Instead, Books
shoots him between the eyes. Having arrived at the Metropole in this aftermath,
Gillom is too late to warn the bartender also has a gun. Books is fatally shot
by the bartender. As he lays dying, Gillom takes up his fallen hero’s gun and
kills the bartender. Horrified, Gillom casts the firearm aside with Books
looking on in approval. Books dies and
Gillom shields his body with his own coat. Confronted by Bond outside, Gillom
hangs his head and walks by, Bond pursuing to comfort him.
While the tropes
of the traditional Hollywood western are well-trodden, and, as liberally
fermented, The Shootist is uniquely positioned, never to veer into cliché.
It also revels into a disquieting dignity for the ancient art of imperfect
manly grace. The more ominous ramifications in Swarthout’s novel have been expunged.
This is a John Wayne movie, after all. And Wayne makes certain he goes
out ‘with a bang’, but on his own terms.
Under Siegel’s direction, The Shootist is perhaps nostalgic for that
way of the gun, intermittently lightened in its looming pathos with black humor
supplied by Harry Morgan’s town marshal. But it does not cheat the audience of its
sobering epitaph. The mantle of quality is being passed to the next generation.
Bruce Surtees’ awe-inspiring cinematography
captures the wistfulness of the western mythology as well as its starker
reality, ably abetted by Robert F. Boyle and Arthur Jeph Parker’s production
design, and, composer, Elmer Bernstein’s phenomenally redolent underscore. This
is the west as it was, or rather, ought to have been, and fittingly the movie
to bid it and the man who inspired its’ folklore a heartfelt, if bittersweet goodbye.
Arrow Academy
debuts John Wayne’s swan song on Blu-ray in a beautifully curated – if not
entirely perfect 1080p transfer sourced from an original 35mm negative. Colors
are rich and satisfying. The prologue is in B&W and looks every bit as good
as the color footage to follow it. Grain structure throughout is faithfully
represented, and, fine details pop as they should. One caveat to consider:
Paramount – the custodians of this master – have not rounded out their due
diligence with a little dust busting to finesse the ravages of time. Minute
speckling, tears and dirt are present, and, occasionally, distracting. The PCM
2.0 mono audio is adequate, but does contain recurrent distortions, pop and
hiss. Honestly, would it have broken the bank to just go the extra mile and complete
this restoration to mint satisfaction?
Now for the good
stuff. Arrow has shelled out for a litany of extras that are, by far, some of
the most impressive assembled for a vintage catalog release. For starters,
there is Howard S. Berger’s audio commentary. It’s thorough, fascinating and
comprehensive. Definitely worth a listen. We get a nearly half-hour visual
essay by critic, David Cairns, a forty-plus-minute interview with noted Western
authority, C. Courtney Joyner, a nearly half-hour spent with historian/composer,
Neil Brand analyzing Elmer Bernstein’s score, and another almost-half-hour with
Scout Tafoya, deconstructing John Wayne’s mythology. Finally, from 2001, Arrow
has licensed the half-hearted, and just under 20-min. ‘making of’ Paramount
produced for its DVD release. Arrow rounds out our appreciation with a
beautifully assembled booklet featuring an essay by Philip Kemp, 48 stills, reproductions
of 6 lobby cards and, an original theatrical trailer, plus a fold-out of Richard
Amsel’s original movie poster art and a reimagined marketing campaign by Juan
Esteban RodrÃguez. Bottom line: The Shootist may not represent the
A-list of John Wayne’s formidable body of work. But it does manage, with
distinction, to remain an enviable tribute to the myth, the man and the legacy
he hath wrought. Great stuff here. And Arrow’s goodies make this an absolute ‘must
have’. Very – VERY – highly recommended.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
5++
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