Showing posts with label cowboys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cowboys. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Movie Review: Cowboy (1958)... John Brown loves westerns...

Cowboy (1958)

Sherman, set the wayback machine for 1992.
That's when Clint Eastwood brought Unforgiven to multiplexes and garnered critical praise for his "deconstructionist" or "postmodern" western.

Film geeks worshiped at the altar of Clint, thanking him for finally breaking western conventions and allowing myth and anti-myth to duke it out (metaphorically speaking, of course). Westerns before Unforgiven featured good guys and bad guys--black and white, they said. Westerns crutched on cheap action instead of probing psychology. The western was a shallow genre before 1992, according to the intelligentsia of movieland.

They were wrong. Very wrong. The genre had long been more diverse than the critical caricatures presented in 1992. The politics of High Noon may have been a little more right-of-center than the average film student's but Gary Cooper wasn't just a shootist. One doesn't need to be a keen scholar to see the frustration with post-WWII military excursions in Sergio Leone's spaghetti westerns and the other anti-hero oaters of the late 60s and 70s. Those are only a few examples out of many. The western monolith used as a reference point by those who adored Unforgiven was more of a fantasy than any white-hat John Wayne B-movie.

Cowboy is a case in point. Loosely based on the hard-to-take-too-seriously memoirs of Frank Harris, Cowboy pre-dates Unforgiven by 34 years and breaks with the ostensible conventions of western films in numerous ways. Maybe it was groundbreaking. Then again, it might just one of many westerns that don't match the bullshit caricature used to diminish the genre.

Cowboy sets up as a fish out of water comedy, transitions into a drama about the loss of innocence, slides into Frankenstein country and ends somewhat ambiguously. It was offered as an "adult" western in 1958 and although it's relatively mild in terms of content, it certainly does focus on some fairly grown up ideas.

Jack Lemmon plays the Harris character. He's a hotel clerk in Chicago who harbors dreams of riding the open range and scoring in the cattle business. Glenn Ford, only a year removed from another interesting western (3:10 to Yuma) plays Tom Reese, a trail boss/cattle baron. Harris wants to track down the girl he loves in Mexico. Reese is heading that direction. Harris wants to play cowboy. Reese could give him a job. Thanks to some bad luck on Reese's part in a poker game and the fact that Harris has some cash stuffed away, a deal is struck. The hard-ass and the tenderfoot are partners. It's a perfect set-up for some fish out of water humor.

That doesn't happen, though. Instead, Harris finds out that life on the range is hard and ugly. It isn't just the work that's difficult, the people are soulless, hard and mendacious. Harris finds a disregard for human life, a lack of esprit de corps, and plenty of shallow stupidity among his fellow cowboys. He also learns that Reese is a grade-A ass and a lousy father figure to his crew. Harris' love is already married off when he reaches Guadalupe and things with Reese finally escalate into violence.

When Reese is temporarily disabled, the disillusioned Harris takes over the drive back to the train station in Wichita. He's become a mirror image of Reese. Harris adopts the role of cruel taskmaster and Reese recoils at his "offspring" reflection. Harris' hardening results in a softening of Reese (with a hint of shame on the side). Reese creates a monster and he doesn't like it--or himself.

In the end, the two kiss and make up (but not in a literal Brokeback Mountain kind of way). We hope that both have learned something in the process, but the best we can really hope for is that they've found some livable space between pure mercantilism and true decency. At least we know they're friends and the suicide of one cowhand has already reminded us of how important that is.

Cowboy isn't a perfect movie, but it is interesting and it definitely defies the so-called norms of the western genre. It also has a spectacular cast.

Lemmon is believable as Harris an is surprisingly effective in a kind of role he didn't often take. He has one particularly powerful scene in which he threatens to "bust open" a lowlife cowpoke. His intensity is amazing for a 50s movie of any type. Ford is strong as Reese, showing the capability to play both bigger than life and wounded within the same 90-minute movie. Supporting players allow the movie to progress without distraction and Dick York of eventual Bewitched fame has an interesting turn as a trail-riding Lothario.

Cowboy is a color movie. One might say it's a COLOR movie. Although the days and nights on the trail are slightly more subdued, the freakish Technicolor rainbow of the hotel scenes is somehow both magnetic and repulsive.

Delmer Daves does a good job at the helm. He received some positive attention and at least one major award for his direction of Cowboy. Daves got the most out of his co-stars, which is critical to the film's success. That's because, in the end, Cowboy is an actor's movie. It's about Ford and Lemmon. One or both appear in every scene for a reason.

Cowboy falls short of being great. Its inconclusive end is bothersome (should we be comfortable with men who are half Harris and half Reese?) and 90 minutes isn't really enough to explore some of the issues raised sufficiently. It is, however, a good movie--both as an artifact and on its intended merits.

FINAL RATING:





(3.5/5 singing cowboys)


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Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Jessica Simpson & Tony Romo... Jinx, Controversy, and Joe Namath... I'm rooting for Dallas...

I'm rooting for Dallas because of Jessica Simpson. More accurately, I'm backing the Cowboys because (a) their quarterback is banging Simpson and (b) because I'm so freaking tired of hearing about she's the NFL equivalent of Yoko Ono.

I'm a lifelong Dallas Cowboys hater. It stems from early childhood. Adult influences turned me against them. Later and consciously I embraced a bit of the Raider mystique. I'm an anti-hero kind of guy. Roger "Mr. Perfect" Staubach wasn't my idea of cool. Still isn't.

Assorted other things piled up over time, intensifying my hatred of the Cowboys. Jerry Jones is a monstrous prick who represents at least 72% of the traits I'd describe as Pure Evil. Guys like Michael Irvin, Too Tall Jones, Hollywood Henderson and others rubbed me the wrong way. Barry Switzer? Jimmy Jones? Bill Parcells? Just typing those names made me a wee bit queasy.

I hate the Cowboys in principle and in practice. Until their post-season run concludes, however, I am a temporary Dallas Cowboys fan.

Strangely enough, my decision to support the 'Boys has nothing to do with the NFL's best tight end (sorry Anthony, Tony and Kellen), Jason Witten. Marion Barber and Julius Jones haven't influenced my decision. I still think T.O. is one of the all-time worst things to happen to the NFL and the stupid shadows that cover half the playing field because of the Texas Stadium roof still annoy me. I still hate the Cowboys, but I'm cheering for them anyway.

I'm rooting for Dallas because of Jessica Simpson. More accurately, I'm backing the Cowboys because (a) their quarterback is banging Simpson and (b) because I'm so freaking tired of hearing about she's the NFL equivalent of Yoko Ono.

Just in case you don't follow the NFL, here's a one-paragraph backgrounder on the Simpson/Romo situation. Romo used to date Carrie Underwood, who is apparently a country singer. They broke up. The Cowboys won many games with Romo at the helm. Then, he started dating Jessica Simpson. They didn't win by as much. Then he lost a game with her in the crowd. Idiots proclaimed Simpson a jinx. Idiot opposing fans attempted to rattle Romo with Jessica masks. Then, during a bye week, Romo took Simpson to Mexico and they partied when he could've been locked in an isolation chamber studying game film. Pundits, critics and other assorted slack-jawed goobers have interpreted this as the End of All Hope for the Cowboys.

Now, before I provide my perspective... Let me fill you in on my opinion re: Ms. Simpson. In brief, bulleted form, it goes something like this:
  • I don't find her remarkably talented.
  • I don't think she's particularly bright.
  • I don't consider myself a fan.
  • Based on what I've read, her daddy is creepy.
  • I have only thought about her sister one time for maybe .25 seconds.
  • I think she is incredibly freaking hot.

Oh, I know... Some weisenheimers are gonna talk about how she's not all that good looking. Such remarks are a lie. She is hot like motherfucking lava in a crockpot! She has a great body. She has a beautiful face. Jessica Simpson is sex on a platter and if you deny that fact, you are either lying or have passed into some super-human realm of ultra self-actualization where you really can sense inner beauty, read auras, etc. Those of us who tell the truth and have eyes? We want to have sex with Jessica Simpson.

So, here's Tony Romo. He's some second-tier quarterback from a second-tier college who has spent a few years backing up ancient and/or half-assed QBs. He gets a chance and does well. He screws a country crooner. He gets a huge payday. He treats himself to some Simpson.

This is wrong? Hell no. This is what he is SUPPOSED TO DO. It is the job of NFL football players to live the shallow dream. Even if you don't agree with that, I find it ridiculous to criticize a guy who gets a shot at banging Jessica Simpson for doing so. Ridiculous!

But what if humping Ms. Simpson or having her attend games somehow creates some sort of whacked out cosmic vibration that makes a team lose to the Eagles? Doesn't that de-justify continued relations with Ms. Simpson?

Fuck no.

Look at her:

Even if there was a jinx, it would be worth it. But there is no jinx. There's this little thing called coincidence. There are also little concepts like the logical fallacy of hasty generalization and the difference between correlation and causality that some of the critics of sexing up Daisy Duke v. 2.0 might want to investigate.

But wait... Someone is thinking, "If people believe in jinxes, streaks, etc. they become true!" Crash Davis may have told Nuke LaLoosh to "respect the streak", but the only rump up for grabs there belonged to Susan Sarandon. With all due respect to Ms. Sarandon, she's no Jessica Simpson. Baseball isn't football, either. Disrespect the streak, Tony. Keep on doing what you can with Jessica.


Still think Tony should get rid of Jess? Please take the following quiz.

Would you prefer to stick...
A. Your nose in a playbook or
B. Your _____ between Jessica Simpson's _____?

Do you like the sound of...
A. Pizza party in the tape room with the O-line or
B. Please rub this suntan lotion on Jessica Simpson's buttocks?

Would you rather watch...
A. Videotape of Eagles linemen pushing you to the ground or
B. Jessica Simpson trying on a schoolgirl outfit?

You get the idea.

Joe Namath. Broadway Joe. Drinker. Fur coat-wearer. Pool shooter. Hanging with the honeys right before the Super Bowl. He guaranteed a win and delivered. Namath had his fucking cake and he ate it, too.

Don't begrudge Tony Romo for trying to do the same. That kind of thing has a meaning that undoubtedly exceeds a fistful of championship rings. After all, think about Broadway Joe years later... After success... After retirement. Was he longing for another chance to take the field? Was he regretting the drives that fell short? Was he wishing he could toss one last touchdown pass?

Hell no. He was trying to score with the sideline announcer.


Go Cowboys!

EDIT: From the Just In Time to Piss Me Off Department. Apparently, Simpson is dumb enough to believe the jinx bullshit. She's skipping the Giants/Cowboys game. Dumb, but hot. I hope Tony gets his fill before the game and goes back for plenty more after the win.

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