THE LAST HUNT: Blu-ray (MGM, 1956) Warner Archive

Yet another variation on the revenge/tragedy set against the patina of the American west, Richard Brooks’ The Last Hunt (1956) is an uncharacteristically gritty (at least for MGM, the studio known for glamour) saga of conflict. It casts one-time Metro heartthrob and leading man, Robert Taylor as the steely-eyed villain. Perhaps, none of this is surprising, given the picture was produced by Dore Schary. With one year left to go on his reign as production chief at the grandest picture studio in the world (after the ousting of L.B. Mayer in 1950), Schary’s tenuous hold on MGM’s vast assets had been an ill fit from the start. Schary adored message pictures and harsh human dramas. So, it is not surprising to find The Last Hunt a revisionist take on the Hollywood western, long before re-writing the history of the old west was deemed fashionable. Maybe this is the real reason The Last Hunt ended its theatrical run $323,000 in the red. Another, could be audiences in the mid-fifties were just not ready – either for a western in which no clear-cut heroes emerge, or a story to deny them the satisfaction of a prerequisite showdown between good and evil. Indeed, after promising vengeance against the modestly valiant, Sandy McKenzie (Stewart Granger, first-cast but second-billed), Robert Taylor’s recalcitrant Charlie Gilson freezes to death in a terrible winter storm the night before. 

The Last Hunt was shot almost entirely on location during seven weeks inside the Badlands National Park and Custer State Park in South Dakota to take advantage of the then-annual ‘thinning’ of the buffalo herd. Hence, the sequences depicting the slaughter of these noble beasts is genuine, albeit – cobbled together from inserts of Taylor and Granger shooting at nothing with actual footage of government marksmen taking down the buffalo. Ironically, while the tale is set in late autumn and early winter, the movie was actually photographed in mid-summer when temperatures soared in excess of 110 degrees, causing Granger, gussied up in heavy buckskins and woolens, to suffer a perilous bout of heat exhaustion. On set, tensions between Granger and Brooks were palpable. Brooks, a perfectionist with a certain lack for the niceties, rode his cast and crew hard, determined to wear down all the polish his principles had acquired while being groomed by the studio for greatness. Brooks was after realism, and had his way. The Last Hunt is an uncompromising portrait of real men at each other’s throats. As the token female of the piece, Debra Paget proves a somewhat less than enthusiastic, though elegant squaw after Anne Bancroft, originally cast, was injured in a fall from a horse. Paget had caught everyone’s attention as the sexy ‘water girl’ Lilia in Cecile B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments (released this same year). The other principles are Lloyd Nolen (superb as the wily old coot, Woodfoot) and Russ Tamblyn (laughable in red-haired pigtails as the half-breed, Jimmy O’Brien).

Dore Schary likely was pleased with the rushes Brooks had sent back to Culver City, as he announced in the trades Taylor and Granger would reteam, their roles reversed, in another gritty western, The Return of Johnny Burro, even before The Last Hunt was released. The picture’s box office failure likely had something to do with the cancellation of this subsequent project; also, Schary’s ousting from power after the disastrous implosion of his costliest misfire, Raintree Country (1957). Based on the novel by Milton Lott, The Last Hunt is one of Hollywood’s earliest attempts to mature the western genre beyond its cowboys vs. Indian roots. On this level at least, it scores. But the picture is ever so slightly hampered by Brooks’ investment to let all the stench, sweat and blood soak through this familiar milieu, to the point where The Last Hunt’s landscape, apart from being strewn with the carcasses and bones of skinned buffalo, is littered in a potpourri of morally ambiguous individuals to whom the traditional audience expectations for a clear-cut hero and a villain are not always delineated.

Robert Taylor’s mad hunter is possessed of a disturbing slant toward savagery – be it against man or beast; sick with drink and an insane jealousy destined to be his undoing. His counterpoint, Stewart Granger’s sad-eyed and reluctant tracker, is prone to self-pity, greatly to weaken his resolve and chivalry where the nameless Indian girl is concerned. Somewhere in the middle of these polar opposites, drawn on occasion with striking similarities, are Nolan’s codger, knowing far too well what men are, and Tamblyn’s prepubescent teen, desperate to become a man. Brooks manages to capture the stink of fresh kill pretty well. Russell Harlan’s cinematography possesses a quality of abject bleakness. Despite Sandy’s salvation in the end, there is no satisfaction seeing the adversary dispatched by the forces of Mother Nature – not after these sworn enemies have endeavored to destroy each other on the wide-open plains. And somewhere in the background we lose Joe De Santis as the trading post proprietor, Ed Black, and, Constance Ford as Peg, the atypical saloon prostitute, though minus the proverbial ‘heart of gold’ whores of a certain vintage in the old west possessed beneath their sparkly crinolines and garters. Yes, Brooks and his menagerie of reprobates likely come far closer to the truth of what the west was really like. But does it work as an entertainment?

Well, no…and yes – in fits and sparks of Brooks’ brilliance as both a writer and director allowing for bits of sobering uncertainty and little jabs of pleasure along the way. Alas, there just are not enough of these to make The Last Hunt a powerful piece of revisionist Americana. The pictures’ strengths are also its weaknesses – the tally leaning just south of ever achieving pure satisfaction for the audience. We should also note that The Last Hunt has the great disadvantage of being photographed on Eastman monopack in Cinemascope; the shortcomings of that color stock exacerbated by ‘scope’s lenses, creating a softer and very muddy, grain-ridden image. Arguably, the process adds yet another layer of unattractiveness to a story not meant to ever look or feel ‘pretty’. But Eastman’s inconsistent hues add eye-strain to a tale that, at times, also tries our patience and focus.  Brooks wastes no time introducing us to Charlie Gilson and Sandy McKenzie. The two riders meet atop a rising landscape of tall pines, the former goading the latter into partaking of one last buffalo hunt to earn them enough cold hard cash to retire for good. Alas, the hunt will never be over for Charlie, who clearly harbors a cruel thirst for the blood of this sacred beast.

Sandy is conflicted. He accepts, then refuses, then re-accepts to enter into a partnership for pure profit. Almost immediately, Sandy regrets his decision, though he hurriedly recruits Woodfoot as a skilled skinner and takes on Jimmy O’Brien, a boy newly arrived in town and easily pummeled into the mud by an oafish Indian-hater. Sandy begrudgingly partakes of the buffalo slaughter but is unable to bring himself to kill a rare white buffalo grazing among the herd. Charlie, however, has no compunction about putting this beast to death. And thus, by nightfall a curious animosity stirs between Charlie and Sandy – uneasily observed by Woodfoot and Jimmy. Under the cover of night, a trio of Indians sneak into their makeshift base camp and steal several horses. Pursuing the Indians against Sandy’s wishes, Charlie murders all three, grazing a squaw with one of his bullets. Later, Charlie – in a moment of rare clarity – takes marginal pity on the girl as she is clinging to a papoose, returning to base camp with both in tow. Sandy is smitten with the girl, but keeps a respectable distance. Charlie, however, has decided he has certain ‘rights’ to the girl.  By night, his attempts at a seduction miserably fail and this only sets up Charlie to assume the girl and Sandy have already begun to fall in love.

Charlie forewarns he will not tolerate any man’s claim what is rightfully his, be it the girl or the monies earned from their ever-expanding wagon train of buffalo pelts, sure to fetch a good price back in town. Sandy offers to go into town with the pelts and collect the cash. It’s either that or Charlie go and never be sure Sandy and the girl have not run off together in his absence. Begrudgingly, Charlie allows Sandy his sojourn. There, Sandy sells the pelts for a good price – all, except the white buffalo, strangely absent from the pile. Washing off the stink of fresh kill in a public bath, Sandy buys himself a set of dapper new clothes and retreats to the local saloon to drown his sorrows in strong drink. It does not take him very long to find trouble; engaging in a drunken brawl with a few of the locals whom he confuses all as being Charlie and thus, with his pent-up anger released, is quite successful at subduing, despite being outnumbered five to one. Impressed, the prostitute, Peg plies Sandy with more drink, then lures him back to her boudoir. Sandy, however, is unable to rid his mind of the squaw. He will not engage this whore to satisfy his romantic urges. Peg is insulted and orders Sandy away.

Meanwhile, suspecting he has seen the last of Sandy, Charlie has moved base camp to a new location, using a nearby cave to protect him and the squaw from the elements. Woodfoot is curious and concerned. Clearly, Charlie is deranged as he obsesses over Sandy and his inability to convince the squaw of transferring her affections over to him. Woodfoot, however, has underestimated his adversary. After a particularly caustic confrontation, Woodfoot attempts to diffuse the situation by holding Charlie at gunpoint. Unaware Woodfoot’s gun contains no bullets, Charlie murders the old man with his pistol; Jimmy, tearfully rushing to the scene and pointing out the truth. Returning to base camp with all but $70 of the money paid out for the buffalo hides, Sandy is dismayed to learn of his old friend’s death. Charlie’s elation over the money quickly evaporates when Sandy informs him the white hide was not among the lot and therefore failed to fetch the anticipated $2000 Charlie was expecting to be owed him. Accusing Sandy of having pocketed the money or hidden the hide, Charlie vows revenge. He first encourages, then threatens Jimmy to confess Sandy stole the hide. Jimmy refuses and, despite being severely beaten by Charlie, never admits to as much.

Recognizing the end of their partnership will likely be unpleasant to say the least, Sandy gets Charlie drunk and then escapes with the squaw to an American outpost. Alas, far from harm’s way, Sandy and the girl leave shortly thereafter, determined to bring back badly needed supplies. They are confronted on the open plain by Charlie. As night falls and a hellish winter storm fast approaches, Sandy and the girl take refuge inside a cave. Just beyond, Charlie threatens a showdown, ordering Sandy and the girl to remain where they are until the first light of dawn when visibility will allow both men to stand their ground in plain sight. Alas, Charlie has underestimated the storm. Spotting a buffalo in his midst, Charlie kills and skins the animal to keep warm. It is of no use. As the steely blue-grey of dawn crosses over the land, Sandy discovers Charlie still seated on the ground, frozen to death and clutching his pistol – a bitter rival to the very end.  Sandy takes the girl in tow and together they ride off.

The Last Hunt concludes on a sobering note of tragedy. Likely, Dore Schary approved. Regrettably, and more oft than not, what Schary liked, audiences did not. Worse, Schary’s particular brand of dark and brooding melodrama, while ideally suited during his tenure at RKO for seedy noir thrillers, was in direct conflict with MGM’s yen for ole-time/big-time glamour and prestige. The Last Hunt has neither of these time-honored studio edicts to recommend it. For those brought up on Metro’s luminous past, the disconnect between these expectations and MGM’s output throughout the mid to late 1950’s must have truly unsettled.  The Last Hunt might have worked had director, Richard Brooks done more to establish character and conflict early on in the picture. But the first third is strictly played to take advantage of the real-life footage of buffalo being slaughtered on the open plains. The carnage is shocking to a point, but then becomes utterly redundant and (pun intended) overkill. Robert Taylor gives a very fine performance as the blind-sided villain, diseased with death. Still, it is rather disheartening to see this one-time handsome leading man reduced into a weirdly demonic creature of habit. Stewart Granger is also in fine form – picking up the reigns in Taylor’s stead and filling the part of the decidedly un-heroic ‘hero’ with vague uncertainty. The real scene-stealer, however, is Lloyd Nolan – a fine character actor, newly returned to the screen after a year-long absence. Nolan is one of those performers that, quite simply, one cannot ignore when he is on the screen. Had he possessed either Taylor’s one-time matinee idol good looks or Granger’s formidable masculinity, I have no doubt he would have become as much a celebrated part of the pantheon as his co-stars.

The Last Hunt arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC) in a 1080p transfer that reveals the glaring shortcomings of vintage Eastman stock. For starters, overall image clarity is lacking. The image is clumpy, with blurriness exaggerated around the edges of the screen. Close-ups look the best. But long and medium shots are a ruddy/muddy mess of dull colors with contrast frequently blown out. There are several instances where blacks completely implode. Vinegar syndrome is also suspected, as flesh tones are rarely natural looking and the color palette is dominated by an unusual orange tint. The predominate palette is brown/beige. Again, all of this is due to vintage Eastman/Cinemascope elements – not the remastering effort put forth by WAC. Indeed, color balancing has been attempted, even if the results are less than successful. And WAC has done its usual bang-up job eradicating age-related dirt and scratches to present us with an approximation as smooth as its source elements will allow. Film grain is amplified, but this too is in keeping with the source materials. The audio is 1.0 DTS mono and adequate for this presentation. Extras boil down to two excerpts from the short-lived MGM Parade TV series used to promote Metro’s product on the small screen; plus, a badly worn theatrical trailer. Bottom line: You could easily pass on this deep catalog title and not feel as though you have missed a great piece of bygone American cinema. Judge and buy accordingly.

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

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

2