The '70s were a strange time for westerns. After late '60s classics like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Wild Bunch, and the works of Sergio Leone, there must have been some pressure to try things a little differently. We got the kooky, offbeat Little Big Man and the contrary, brothel-focused McCabe & Mrs. Miller, both rather popular but neither up my alley. And sometimes quirks came together with R ratings, as in this, Joseph L. Mankiewicz's only effort at the genre.
Paris Pitman, Jr. (Kirk Douglas -- don't worry; I'll take a long break from him after this review) goes to a prison from which, according to an elderly cellmate known as the Missouri Kid (Burgess Meredith), no one has ever escaped with his life. But Paris has a lot of loot well hidden and would hate to let it go to waste. The first warden (Martin Gabel) offers to free Paris for 50% of it, but a more conscientious replacement (Henry Fonda) isn't on board. Paris uses the promise of riches to enlist the help of all his cellmates to escape, including a pathetic youth on death row (Michael Blodgett); a lazy swindler (John Randolph) and his effete, resentful, but loyal and talented assistant (Hume Cronyn); a strong, silent, seeming simpleton (C.K. Yang); and a violent drunkard (Warren Oates).
Netflix and other sources describe the movie as blackly comic. IMDb doesn't list comedy among its genres, but I see where they're coming from. The characters have some pretty extreme personalities, and once in a while, they run into unlikely bad luck. Not that you're likely to laugh out loud; the humor doesn't feel very fresh anymore. It reminded me a little of a more dated, less happy Silverado. Still, I can appreciate a little levity in a story about a prison break -- one with a considerable body count.
In case you're wondering, yes, Paris is quite a crooked man. He acts genteel and exercises charisma much of the time, even ironically during armed robbery, but then he'll shoot an accomplice, apparently to avoid sharing. He may rationalize, as by assuming that the guy would've done the same to him, but it does nothing to reflect well on himself.
For a western with no American Indians and little time spent at the Mexican border, it has a fair amount of screen time for racial minorities. A few Black people get decent depictions, not least the female servant who acts less stereotypical when her employer isn't watching. On the other hand, I can't help seeing Yang's character as a quiet mockery of a Chinese man. It would take a bit longer for Hollywood to get a handle on that, insofar as it has.
More troubling than the potential racism is what goes on with the few women other than the aforementioned servant. Most are licentious, as at the brothel. Another appears to be in the midst of a burgeoning gang rape -- and it's played for laughs. Even if you interpret the moment more charitably, it doesn't exactly cater to feminine taste.
I think my next western viewing will come from either the Hays Code era or a later decade, when filmmakers had a better idea of how to make use of their fewer restrictions. This one is too up and down for me to recommend with confidence.
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