Quick And The Dead (Louis L’Amour Version)
Generic Westerns, as is any generic genre piece, can often be a tough slog to get through, trotting out the same old story conventions, the same old clichés, and the same old character types for our increasingly numb enjoyment. Thus is the case with this 1987 Made For HBO movie (with no relation whatsoever to the Sam Raimi-directed extravanganza a few years later), based on the novel by the late yet prolific writer Louis L’Amour, which features Sam Elliot (who could have been a fantastic modern day Western star, if only he had found a project to suit his talents) as a wandering half-breed tracking another of his kind (Patrick Kilpatrick, a white actor sporting a ridiculous wig and dark makeup) for having murdered his mother, who comes upon a frontier couple (Tom Conti and Kate Capshaw) making their way out West with their young son in tow, and witnesses them coming into conflict with a band of outlaws who then set out after them, hoping to loot them of their belongings in their wagon (along with one of them being a rape happy fat guy who desires Capshaw) and also take revenge for the death of the outlaw leader’s son who was killed in the initial skirmish. Elliot then proceeds to take it upon himself to become a sort of guardian angel for the family, showing up when needed to help them set up camp and prepare dinner, all the while heading back to the gang in pursuit (which has acquired Kilpatrick as their tracker) and picking them off one at a time in order to slow them down and / or discourage them. That’s the basic premise, and with it a myriad of story problems, among them the fact that the gang’s leader (character actor Matt Clark) appears to be a complete imbecile who continues to pursue this lone family (even while his cohorts tell him it’s not worth it), even though his own gang is getting whittled down one by one to the point of ridiculousness, making the viewer think that the guy is either suicidal or just a straight up moron, right up to the end when he and his two surviving comrades confront the family in their new home. Even more disturbing be it as it may is the Elliot character’s apparent motivation for protecting the family, as while L’Amour in his original novel may have waxed rhapsodic about the character’s innermost thoughts and feelings, when translated to the screen it comes off that Elliot is going through all this trouble simply because he REALLY wants to fuck the wife, and while Capshaw was (and still is) one of the more beautiful actresses of all time, having Elliot constantly make compliments towards her in the presence of the husband and son (and even steal a kiss at one point) makes much of the enterprise come off as unsavory. Granted, the cinematography as required is beautiful for a period piece like this, but director Robert Day helms the whole thing in such a journeyman fashion with sloppy editing, pacing, and acting that one wonders where exactly he found a place to hide whenever Capshaw’s husband Steven Spielberg would come visit the set. However, some props should be given to former Oscar Nominee turned obscure fringe actor Conti as the husband, putting up with Elliot sexually harassing his wife the whole time with good humor before finally putting Sam in his place by the end, but overall, a pretty dry film to get through unless you resemble the father of yours truly, who eats these dime store Western stories up with a spoon…
5/10