THE DAUGHTER OF DAWN - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Milestone restores important lost film.

Any day is a great day to watch and rejoice in this important "lost" piece of cinema history, but Canada's NATIONAL ABORIGINAL DAY is a pretty good reason to celebrate the gorgeous Milestone Cinematheque's Blu-Ray of The Daughter of Dawn, an independent 1920 silent picture that stars over 300 members of Oklahoma's Comanche and Kiowa nations.

When it comes to film restoration and preservation,
it doesn't get better than Milestone Film and Video.

The Daughter of Dawn (1920)
Dir. Norbert A. Myles
Starring: Esther LaBarre, Hunting Horse,
White Parker, Jack Sankeydoty, Wanada Parker

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Mysteries abound from the period we know as the dawn of cinema and they almost always centre upon the multitude of films which existed ever-so-fleetingly, then disappeared from the face of the earth due to the vagaries of distribution and exhibition - not to mention the highly combustible nature of nitrate film stock (eventually eschewed after cinema's first fifty-or-so years in favour of more stable stocks). The bottom line is that most major studios considered films as "disposable" product and far too many pictures simply disappeared, going the way of the majestic Dodo Bird - forever.

One of the biggest mysteries is the production of The Daughter of Dawn, which was manufactured by The Texas Film Company in 1920. Shot on location in a wildlife refuge near Lawton, Oklahoma and starring over 300 members of the Kiowa and Comanche Nations, it probably makes even more sense that it became lost to the sands of time given that it was a genuinely independent film, bereft of the usual barnstorming entrepreneurial showmanship oft-applied during those early days.

In fairness to producer Richard Banks, he had enough vision to secure actor/director Norbert A. Myles to write a script based on a Comanche legend and then mount a spectacular production in a tough location, using local Native Americans, not only as actors, but as the primary artisans of the costumes, sets and props. The film's existence was never in question, nor were the obviously prodigious efforts to make it, but given the popularity of similar works of the period (such as the films of Merian C. Cooper, Ernest B. Schoedsack, Robert Flaherty, Edward S. Curtis, et al), why it didn't follow similar footsteps is a major head-scratcher.

As far as we know, The Daughter of Dawn had one public screening at a sneak preview in Los Angeles, followed one year later with a screening in Topeka, Kansas and then, completely falling off the map. Its spotty distribution/exhibition history might be one of the greatest mysteries of all. When one compares its aesthetic attributes to the vast number of ethnographic documentaries, docudramas and straight-up dramas shot on location during this period, with real people in front of the cameras, The Daughter of Dawn easily holds its own against seminal works like Chang: A Drama of the Wilderness, Grass: A Nation's Battle For Life and In the Land of the Head Hunters.

The picture is a rip-snorter of the highest order. It's a classic love triangle set against the backdrop of war. Dawn (Esther La Barre) is the daughter of a powerful Kiowa Chief (Hunting Horse) and she's madly in love with the handsome White Eagle (White Parker). Alas, the sly, lumpy, bumbling Black Wolf (Jack Sankeydoty) is in love with Dawn and because he's imbued with considerable wealth (he owns a whole whack of ponies), the Chief is torn over bestowing his daughter to an ideal match. Will it be love that wins out over wealth or vice versa? Neither. The Chief decides that bravery is the greatest attribute, so he sets a challenge to both men to prove their worth.

Simple, yes? Well, there are spanners in the works. Red Wing (Wanada Parker), a not-so-fetching "catch", is madly in love with dopey Black Wolf and her jealousy knows no bounds. Worse yet, some neighbouring Comanches are fixing to go to war with the Kiowa Nation and plan to make a raid in order to steal women and goods. When Black Wolf proves to be no match for the brave White Eagle in the competition, he grabs his "lesser" paramour Red Wing and hightails it over to the Comanche side to turncoat his way into an act of ultimate revenge.

There will be war.

The Daughter of Dawn proves to be a supremely entertaining western adventure. Director Myles trains his camera upon the action with a first-rate eye for staging and detail. We not only get a fascinating glimpse into the lives of the Native Americans (thanks mostly to their cultural/artistic contributions), we're treated to nice dollops of romance and some truly spectacular action scenes (including a buffalo hunt, no less).

How and why this movie fell through the cracks is beyond me. Is it possible that neither the film industry nor audiences were ready for a movie about Native Americans taking centre stage? (A cool bit of historical trivia is that actors White Parker and Wanada Parker were the children of leading Comanche leader Quanah Parker.) Well, whatever kept this film from finding its true place at the time, the point is now moot, because now is the time.

Extraordinarily, though the film was long lost, an Oklahoma private detective was paid for his services with a few cans of nitrate film stock which, as it turned out, was the only extant print of The Daughter of Dawn. It eventually found its was into the hands of the Oklahoma Historical Society who commissioned an all-new original musical score by noted Comanche composer David Yeagley and eventually, for all of us who love movies, it was happily placed in the hands of the visionary Milestone Film and Video who have made it available to the world - ninety years after it was first made.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

The Daughter of Dawn is available on a sumptuous Blu-Ray/DVD via Milestone Film and Video on their Milestone Cinematheque label. It looks gorgeous, of course, thanks to a beautiful 35mm restoration and 2K transfer and the home entertainment package is replete with an informative introduction by Dr. Bob Blackburn, the featurette "Finding the Film: with Bill Moore of Oklahoma Historical Society", interviews with Comanche Darren Twohatchet, Kiowa Dorothy Whitehorse, William D. Welge of The Oklahoma Historical Society and featurettes on the musical score.

McCABE & MRS. MILLER - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Heartbreaking Altman on Criterion Blu

Booze, brothels, love and tragedy in the Old West.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971)
Dir. Robert Altman
Nvl. Edmund Naughton
Scr. Altman and Brian McKay
Starring: Warren Beatty, Julie Christie, René Auberjonois, Michael Murphy,
Antony Holland, Bert Remsen, Shelley Duvall, Keith Carradine, William Devane,
John Schuck, Hugh Millais, Jace Van Der Veen, Manfred Schulz, Corey Fischer

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Under the big grey skies of Washington State, a stranger slowly rides from out of the wet greenery of a boreal forest and heads straight for the tiny, squalid, muddy little mining town of Presbyterian Church. His name is John McCabe (Warren Beatty). On the outskirts, away from prying eyes, he removes the bulky fur coat he's been wearing to shield himself from the damp cold of the Pacific Northwest. He's all about appearances, you see. As soon as he reveals what's beneath the fur we know this all too well. Wearing a clean burgundy sport jacket, crisp white shirt, handsome black diamond-shaped tie and grey vest, he pops a smart bowler hat on his head - all in marked contrast to the grimy attire of the town's denizens.

In the old west, when a stranger rides into town, people notice. Anonymity becomes just a fleeting memory. John McCabe is a gambler, businessman and, it is whispered, a gunfighter. He wants to make an impression and he wants it to stick, like flies to shit, like peanut butter in the craw and the ties that bind.

Though his entrance is adorned with the surface tropes of the genre, director Robert Altman, like his protagonist McCabe, is all about appearances too. He wants us to know we're watching a western, but good goddamn, it's not going to be like any western we've ever seen.

McCabe and Mrs. Miller is a true original - the kind of movie we seldom see anymore, at least not from any major Hollywood studio. Ah, but it was 1971 when this picture first rode into town and it was, for all its bold, fresh innovation, a movie that was produced under the aegis of Warner Brothers, a studio which, up to that point always broke molds (think: the first major sound picture The Jazz Singer, Busby Berkeley, gritty dirty 30s crime pictures and, uh, Casablanca anyone?). These days we're more likely to see the Warners' banner in front of machine-tooled Harry Potter movies, the turgid Dark Knight turds of Christopher Nolan and (God Help Us!!!), Peter Jackson's unwatchable Hobbit series. (In fairness to the studio, they have, of late, delivered the unique Zack Snyder and David Ayer re-imaginings of the DC comic book universe, though all of those pictures have been panned by most of the contemporary scribes purporting to be "critics".)

Oh, but this was the 70s, the greatest decade in movie history and Warner Bros. (my personal favourite of all the studios) green-lit McCabe & Mrs. Miller, a haunting, leisurely-paced and decidedly elegiac western. I had, of course, seen several million westerns in movie theatres with my Dad, but at the age of twelve, as I sat in a first-run movie theatre (a 1500-seat picture palace, no less), positioned next to dear Pater, I knew, I knew even then, at that tender age, based solely on the aforementioned first few minutes, that I was watching something I'd never seen before and now, so many decades later, as I sat in front of my Criterion Collection Blu-Ray of Robert Altman's movie, I thought, "You know, I've not seen anything like this since".

Of course it's different. These are not wide open dusty spaces with the phallic ancient outcroppings of Monument Valley rock under sunny skies. We're surrounded by mist, virtually claustrophobic greenery and most of all, as Vilmos Zsigmond's floating camera captures the rain intermittently pouring, streets filled with murky pools of water, soupy streets of mud, somber, peppery clouds above a ramshackle village, the soundtrack is neither Elmer Bernstein bombast nor, even, Ennio Morricone whistles and twangs.

We hear, Leonard Cohen.

"It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter
I know that kind of man
It's hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender,
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender. And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
you find he did not leave you very much
not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
that is so high and wild
he'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger"

Cohen's "The Stranger Song" is not only the opening theme music of McCabe & Mrs. Miller, but its haunting lyrics and melody become a main theme throughout the picture. Along with other great works by the late Canadian troubadour, we hear lively fiddles as source music played by Presbyterian Church local musicians and a series of haunting guitar riffs performed by Cohen. Most notable is the location sound and very subtle foley, capturing the unique aural qualities of life in an isolated community during the latter part of 19th century America, but lest we forget, there is the unique Altman dialogue recording. When people speak, we hear what we'd hear in any crowded room - the blend of voices, overlapping conversations and the only time any words are crystal clear is when we absolutely need to hear them.

Mumbling is also a recurring auditory motif, but brilliantly, Altman uses it mostly for McCabe himself as a delightful character trait. McCabe mumbles - only when he's alone. He's a man used to being alone for large periods of his life and as such, he thinks aloud. (The first time McCabe speaks he's alone, on the periphery of the town and yes, mumbling to himself.)

Yes, this is a western. On the surface we've seen this story many times. A stranger comes to a small town, immediately spots the burgeoning glory of opportunity, sets up a successful business, spurns the advances of corrupt powerful corporate interests to buy him out and is then swiftly assailed by hired killers, their goal to rub him out permanently and secure his valuable holdings for zilch.

Ah, but that's merely the outward narrative coat hanger. The picture is so, so much more than this simple exterior. The heart and soul of the movie is a love story. After all, Altman has chosen to eschew the simple "McCabe" title of the Edmund Naughton novel the film is based on and append the "& Mrs. Miller" to the title of the movie itself. And then there are the songs by Leonard Cohen. In addition to "The Stranger Song" we also get to hear "Sisters of Mercy" and "Winter Lady" (all three released in 1971 as a 7" single on vinyl which, I still own). Mrs. Miller (Julie Christie) is the gorgeous, classy (in spite of her Cockney accent) prostitute/madame who goes into business with McCabe, helping him wrangle a stable of women. Like the song says:

Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me this song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long.

Indeed, it is the whores who offer McCabe some fleeting glory and solace and in turn serve the needs of men in the village - those who stay, and those who pass through. Inevitably, and perhaps most sadly of all, it is the sisters of mercy who remain a constant presence. Others might come, and others, most notably McCabe himself, may go. The women, however, are ever-present.

Mrs. Miller, the "Winter Lady" of Cohen's song, will indeed remain.

Trav'ling lady, stay awhile
Until the night is over.
I'm just a station on your way,
I know I'm not your lover.

Ah, but he is her lover. Though they are business partners and though Mrs. Miller charges McCabe for all their evenings of bedroom gymnastics, she indeed experiences a love she's never known. The sorrow she eventually will feel is so devastating that she will be drawn to the mind numbing properties of opium. The town is misty, not just with the fog of the Pacific Northwest, but the haze of poppy seeds.

This is a movie that seems fuel-injected with sorrow and though it's set in a time and place so long ago and far away, Robert Altman has crafted a film that is not only perfect in every respect, but is as universal in its exploration of both corporate exploitation and humanity (specifically in the complexities of love) - now, as much as it was in 1971.

The character trait of McCabe mumbling to himself is not only a wonderful "quirk", but it's used to great effect in one of the most moving and tragic on-screen monologues in movie history. After McCabe has attempted to "reason" with one of the assassins, we find him in the deep darkness of an early morning winter, burning the midnight oil. Downing a few shots of booze, putting some final grooming touches to his appearance and slowly loading bullets into his gun before handily affixing his holster, he looks out his window and notices the warm glow coming from across the way at the whorehouse where Mrs. Miller is servicing a client.

Whilst performing his ablutions and the rituals of preparing for what will, no doubt, be a series of urgent encounters, McCabe does indeed mumble to himself, maybe for the last time:

"I tell ya', sometimes, sometimes when I take a look at you, I just keep lookin' and a'lookin' so I won't feel your little body up against me so bad I think I'm gonna bust. I keep trying' to tell ya' in a lotta different ways... well I'll tell ya' something, I got poetry in me, I do, I got poetry in me, but I ain't gonna put it down on paper. I ain't no educated man. I got sense enough not to try."

Eventually, Altman expertly stages one of cinema's most tense western showdowns. The church is burning down. The whole town is empty and desperately trying to quell the flames. Snow is falling heavily. Three armed dangerous killers are on the hunt. McCabe is alone. Guns will blast and blood will spill, spattering crimson upon the white blanket resting heavily upon the ground of Presbyterian Church, Washington.

There is no urgent musical score; only the sounds of breathing, footsteps upon the snow and the wind - oh, the howling wind. And every so often, we are jolted with shotgun blasts and the sickening sounds of shattering glass.

Mrs. Miller is nowhere to be seen. There is, you see, an opium den in town.

Well I lived with a child of snow
When I was a soldier,
And I fought every man for her
Until the nights grew colder.

A man of poetry is fighting for his life. A sister of mercy wants to forget.

Life is just like that sometimes.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

McCabe & Mrs. Miller is available on the Criterion Collection and includes a new 4K digital restoration, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray, a 2002 commentary with Altman and producer David Foster, new making-of documentary, new conversation about the film and Altman’s career between film historians Cari Beauchamp and Rick Jewell, 1970 production featurette, 1999 Art Directors Guild Film Society Q&A with production designer Leon Ericksen, excerpts from archival interviews with Vilmos Zsigmond, gallery of on-set stills, excerpts from 1971 episodes of "The Dick Cavett Show" featuring Altman and film critic Pauline Kael, the trailer and an essay by novelist and critic Nathaniel Rich.

ONE-EYED JACKS - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Criterion Collection Blu-Ray Does Brando Proud!

You will hear Marlon Brando utter the words:
"Get up, you scum suckin' pig!"
And then, your life will be full.

One-Eyed Jacks (1961)
Dir. Marlon Brando
Scr. Guy Trosper, Calder Willingham
Starring: Marlon Brando, Karl Malden, Katy Jurado, Pina Pellicer, Ben Johnson,
Sam Gilman, Larry Duran, Slim Pickens, Timothy Carey, Elisha Cook, Hank Worden

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I love One-Eyed Jacks, but there are three things about it that make me sad.

First, it was originally developed with a Sam Peckinpah screenplay for director Stanley Kubrick. A blood-soaked revenge drama in the Old West from those two dudes and starring Marlon Brando is the stuff grand, wild daydreams are made of.

Secondly, given that the aforementioned writer and director were dumped in favour of a new script that would serve as the directorial debut of Brando himself (and that it yielded such a great picture) is all well and good, but what really inspires me to hang my head in sorrow is the legendary 300-minute Brando director's cut that no longer exists in any way, shape or form. That, my friends, is sad. 300 minutes of Brando's mad, inspired and solid direction - lost forever - is not unlike what the world would have been like without Michael Cimino's full cut of Heaven's Gate. Luckily, that does exist and what remains of One-Eyed Jacks is one great 141-minute western.

Finally, we should all lament the fact that Brando directed only one picture.

But what a picture!

The movie opens with Rio (Marlon Brando), his pal/mentor Dad Longworth (Karl Malden) and Doc (the delightful Hank Worden) robbing a bank in Sonora, Mexico. Old Doc is gunned down by Mexican rurales and our two above-the-title stars find themselves holed up on a mountain as the lawmen close in. They only have one horse between them. Rio entrusts Dad to hightail down the hill, get a fresh horse and come back so they can both make their escape.

Ah, but Dad Longworth has other plans. He abandons poor Rio who spends five years of hard time in a Mexican prison. Rio befriends Chico Modesto (Larry Duran) and he's hell-bent on revenge. When he meets scuzzballs Bob Emory (Ben Johnson) and Harvey Johnson (Sam Gilman), he learns than Dad has set himself up nicely in Monterey, California with a big, new, sprawling house, beautiful wife Maria (Katy Jurado) and her "bastard" daughter, the even more beautiful Louisa (Pina Pellicer). Even more galling to Rio is that Dad has become "respectable". He is the Sheriff of Monterey.

This is perfect. Rio plans to rob the Monterey Bank and kill Dad Longworth. As fate would have it, though, Rio falls in love with Louisa. After deflowering her, Dad not only whips Rio viciously in public, but smashes our hero's shooting hand to a pulp.

But this is the Old West - a time when men were men and didn't let things like a broken hand stop them. Time heals all wounds, after all, and once the wounds are healed, a deadly showdown is imminent.

This is one rip-snorting western. Brando's direction is super-taut and the movie is rife with all manner of interesting character details - especially in terms of friendship and loyalty (and lack thereof). The exchanges between Rio and Dad in Monterey are always simmering with a bizarre combination of love and hatred. When Brando accuses Dad of being a "one-eyed Jack" (after all, Dad only shows most people one side of him while always keeping his eye on number one), Rio eventually cuts deep when he coldly looks the villain in the eye and says, "I've seen the other side of your face."

Oh yeah, Dad Longworth is one dirty, two-faced sonofabitch. (And by the way, how come movies today don't have characters with names like "Dad Longworth"?)

Brando's performance is, of course, delightfully insane. Throughout the picture he engages in all sorts of strangely beautiful actions and gestures. He's a hero, alright, but a hero with a difference. Our first taste of Brando is delicious. He's utterly charming, sexy and definitely dangerous. During the initial bank robbery, Rio sits casually on the bank counter eating bananas. Bananas, folks! He's robbing a bank and casually eating bananas. As if this isn't oddball enough, there's a classic Brando moment when he tosses a banana skin on one of the bank's gold scales. He doesn't cotton to things being lopsided. Rio polishes off his second banana and tosses it on the other scale.

Rio believes in balance.

We get other wonderful displays of this. There's an amazing sequence when Rio is appalled with the manner in which a dirty pimp (the great Timothy Carey, so memorable in Kubrick's Paths of Glory) is treating his whore and he exacts just the sort of justice necessary to bring balance to the situation. And who in their right mind could ever forget the scene in which Rio challenges foul Bob Emory to a showdown? "Get up," Rio demands. "Get up you scum suckin' pig."

Good westerns are a dime a dozen. One-Eyed Jacks is a great western. It's easily worth those two saddlebags full of gold that Rio and Dad Longworth steal at the beginning of movie - two bags of gold that lead to plenty of lust, love and blood under those sunny, blue Monterey skies.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

One-Eyed Jacks is available on the Criterion Collection with a new 4K digital restoration, undertaken by Universal Pictures in partnership with The Film Foundation and in consultation with filmmakers Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray, a new introduction by Scorsese, excerpts from voice recordings director and star Marlon Brando made during the development of the film’s script, new video essays on the film, a trailer, an essay by film critic Howard Hampton and new cover art by Robert Hunt.

THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Solid Kurosawa/Sturges Remake

Seven new samurai with six-shooters!!!

The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Dir. Antoine Fuqua
Scr. Nic Pizzolatto, Richard Wenk
Starring: Denzel Washington, Chris Pratt, Ethan Hawke,
Vincent D'Onofrio, Lee Byung-hun, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo,
Martin Sensmeier, Haley Bennett, Peter Sarsgaard

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Akira Kurosawa's epic 1954 Seven Samurai weaves the stirring tale of a group of ronin defending a town of simple folk in 14th Century Japan from hordes of bandits. It is indeed a classic, a masterpiece and quite easily one of the greatest action movies of all time. When John Sturges remade the picture as a western in 1960 with Yul Brynner taking the role originally played by Toshiro Mifune, he didn't quite craft anything in the tour de force department, but he gave us an oater that's as iconic of the old west as it is a rip-snorter.




Antoine Fuqua's 2016 remake might not match the Sturges picture, but it's still a solid, kick-ass western and in its own way gains a bit on the delivery front by peppering us with an almost ludicrous body count, all very efficiently directed by the skillful Training Day helmer.

A bit of Lee-Byung-hun goes a long way.

Denzel Washington takes the sword/reins from Mifune and Brynner, acquitting himself ably as the bounty hunter who recruits a perfect cocktail of miscreants to rescue a small town from an evil land baron (delectably played by he of the perpetual sneer, Peter Sarsgaard). The fine all-star cast includes such robust recognizable talents as Chris Pratt (the smart-ass), Ethan Hawke (the sharpshooter) and Vincent D'Onofrio (the burly munitions expert), adds a nice bit of Asian martial arts/blade play from Lee Byung-hun and some very welcome guns-a-blazing from the babe-o-licious Haley Bennett. (If there's anything more boner-or-wet-crotch-inducing than babes with guns, I have yet to discover what that might be.)

A babe with a gun.
A babe hell-bent on vengeance.
Always win-win.

Speaking of boners and wet crotches, when Haley Bennet says, "I seek righteousness, but I'll take revenge," I cannot imagine anyone in the audience, neither boys nor girls, feeling anything less than glorious gooseflesh. It's to the credit of screenwriters Nic Pizzolatto and Richard Wenk that some lovely revenge backstories come to the fore to provide added oomph, not just for the comely Bennett, but Washington's character also - he's got himself a humdinger of reason to wreak havoc.

Fuqua and his team definitely go the distance with the humdinger screenplay and serve up several truly spectacular action set pieces, not the least of which feature horses and their riders thundering across the plains of a big old American west.

There's really nothing new under the sun here, but goddamn, it's a lot of fun.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** 3-Stars

The Magnificent Seven was a Gala Presentation at TIFF 2016 and will be released wide by Paramount Pictures.

THE NEW WORLD - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Malick's Last Real Movie on Criterion Blu-Ray

Terrence Malick's last real movie.

The New World (2005)
Dir. Terrence Malick
Starring: Colin Farrell, Q'orianka Kilcher, Christopher Plummer, Christian Bale,
August Schellenberg, Wes Studi, David Thewlis, Yorick van Wageningen, John Savage

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The New World is the last real movie made by Terrence Malick prior to descending into his "I Talk To The Trees" cinematic dementia which began with the pretentious The Tree of Life and followed by the risible To The Wonder, Knight of Cups (Malick's nadir) and Voyage of Time (it has two versions, both awful, though happily the IMAX edition is very short). For this reason, one must be truly thankful to the Criterion Collection for issuing the gobsmackingly gorgeous "Director-Approved Special Edition" (3-Disc Blu-Ray, 4-Disc DVD) of Malick's haunting and moving take on the Pocahontas story. (This edition includes a terrific documentary by Austin Jack Lynch, especially illuminating in the sections devoted to training the indigenous Native actors in period body language.)

The New World has had a curious release pattern with no less than three different versions of the film. There is a 150-minute cut which played briefly in America to qualify for Oscars (and long available on an Italian DVD), then the contractually-obligated 135-minute cut which was the only one most of us saw for awhile and finally, a 172-minute extended cut that has never been theatrically released.

Luckily, this lovely box set (with gorgeous new cover artwork by Robert Hunt) has all three cuts. I like them all, frankly. The shortest version was all I knew for awhile and it's the sleekest of the lot, while the slightly longer version expands on both poetic qualities and sharpens narrative clarity. The longest is a real treat. Though it has far more early hints of Malick's tree-staring and soulful voiceovers, they are all in service to a compelling narrative.

Pocahontas: Lost in Love.

Many of us are familiar with the historically-rooted story of Native Princess Pocahontas via any number of literary and film renderings (the most horrendous being the animated Disney musical), but Malick has definitely delivered the most vital and successful dramatic look at this fascinating figure.

After some lovely underwater nude swimming shots of the gorgeous Pocahontas, we're introduced to the dashing figure of military man John Smith (Colin Farrell) who arrives, in chains, with a boatload of various rough-and-tumble types from England, all selected to establish the colony of Jamestown, Virginia and to set up a tobacco trade on the rich, fertile expanse of land in America. Smith is about to be executed for insubordination, but saved by the kindly (and in his own way, equally dashing) Captain Newport (Christopher Plummer).

To the dismay of Wingfield (David Thewlis), a snooty bureaucratic martinet with a major hate-on for our hero, Smith is promoted in rank and charged with overseeing the colony. As the new settlers are beleagured with a lack of food supplies, Smith journeys deep into the wilderness to establish positive relations and trade with the Algonquian "naturals".

Enter Pocahontas (Q'orianka Kilcher), Princess and favourite daughter of the tribe's Chief Powhatan (August Schellenberg). She not only saves Smith's life, but engages in much cavorting through nature with him as they fall madly in love. This allows Malick plenty of opportunity for shots of nature, sky and trees.

There's a whole lotta voice-over goin' on, too.

As Smith "goes Native" and learns the ways of the "naturals", there's a whack o' delicious romance and humour in the proceedings.

There is portent, too.

Powhatan warns Pocahontas to never take sides with the colonists, not even Smith. He fears they are all wolves in sheep's clothing (which, uh, they ultimately are). Smith, though, seems true to his commitment to the "naturals" and between he and Pocahontas, both sides are well served.

Until, there is war.

The dashing Captain John Smith.

Smith is eventually charged with leaving on a long, perilous expedition. The glories of exploration are dangled before him by kindly Cappy Newport and he takes the bait. Smith feels, in his heart of hearts, that his destiny is greater than his happiness. Knowing he'll never return, he asks a trusted associate to eventually lie to Pocahontas that he has died at sea so she can move on without him.

When she is informed of his death, she plunges into a grief that borders on madness. She's "rescued" by the ladies of Fort James who begin a process of colonization in earnest and she's transformed into a "proper" Englishwoman. She eventually meets John Rolfe (Christian Bale), a sweet, gentle and oh-so handsome tobacco plantation magnate. He's smitten with her, but she's still pining for the "dead" Captain John Smith. Eventually she acquiesces to Rolfe's marriage proposal.

When Rolfe and his "Indian Princess" bride are invited to England in order to meet royalty and high society, they journey across the pond. Accompanied by her Uncle Opechancanough (Wes Studi), they become the toast of Dear Old Blighty. Whilst gambolling on manicured British lawns, an old flame from her past materializes. John Smith, it seems, is not dead. Will the peace and love she's come to know with Rolfe now crash and burn?

Malick's screenplay, for all the film's poetic meanderings, carries a surprisingly solid romantic narrative arc and the whole experience of watching the film is filled with genuine wonder. The political implications of colonization and indeed, the gradual assimilation forced upon Pocahontas are always present, even though Malick's approach is never political.

He is clearly at the peak of his powers here as a Master Filmmaker and he's smart enough not to let politics get in the way of spiritual rumination on the beauty of nature, the power of love and creating a world that is richly steeped in history. All of this is bathed in cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki's stunning work (he paints with what appears to mostly be natural light), ace production designer Jack Fisk's muscular work creating both the colonial and old world settings of the early 17th Century and James Horner's lushly romantic score (nicely supplemented with plenty of Wagner and Mozart).

The greatness of The New World is paralleled only by the greatness of Malick's best work. It soars with a most remarkable spirit and it's dappled with more than its fair share of pure passion.

And yeah, the picture gives us an amazing opportunity at the end to squirt copious tears, ever-so Old-Faithful-like upon the screen. When he made real movies, Malick sure knew how to move us.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

The New World is available on a sumptuous Criterion Collection 3-Disc DIRECTOR-APPROVED SPECIAL EDITION Blu-Ray with a new 4K digital restoration of the 172-minute extended cut of the film, supervised by cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki and director Terrence Malick and featuring material not released in theaters, with 5.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-rays. Included are high-definition digital transfers of the 135-minute theatrical cut and the 150-minute first cut of the film, supervised by Lubezki, with 5.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtracks on the Blu-rays. PLUS: new interviews with actors Colin Farrell and Q’orianka Kilcher, new program about the making of the film, featuring interviews with producer Sarah Green, production designer Jack Fisk, and costume designer Jacqueline West, Making “The New World,” a documentary shot during the production of the film in 2004, directed and edited by Austin Jack Lynch (this is especially illuminating in the sections devoted to training the indigenous Native actors in period body language), a new program about the process of cutting The New World and its various versions, featuring interviews with editors Hank Corwin, Saar Klein, and Mark Yoshikawa, Trailers, A book featuring an essay by film scholar Tom Gunning, a 2006 interview with Lubezki from American Cinematographer, and a selection of materials that inspired the production.

IN A VALLEY OF VIOLENCE - FANTASIA 2016 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Ti West Goes West

Ti West serves up Sweet Revenge in Texas.

In a Valley of Violence (2016)
Dir. Ti West
Starring: Ethan Hawke, Taissa Farmiga, John Travolta,
Jason Ransone, Karen Gillan, Larry Fessenden

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Who doesn't like a good western? Aside from a few knobs, pretty much everyone likes one. Writer-director Ti West (The Sacrament, The Innkeepers, You're Next) clearly enjoys westerns so much that he strapped six-shooters upon his cinematic mojo and damn well just made one.

And you know what? In a Valley of Violence is a darn tootin' good oater. Mildly revisionist, but mostly straight-up, the picture is replete with nods to Clint Eastwood's High Plains Drifter, Sergio Leone and Budd Boetticher whilst holding its own as a solid cowpoke revenge programmer.

Paul (Ethan Hawke), a former soldier with a mysterious past, stops in the one-horse Denton, Texas to replenish supplies. Accompanied by his beloved dog, he becomes acquainted with the spunky, sexy Mary-Anne (Taissa Farmiga), the restless little sister of hotel keeper Ellen (Karen Gillan). Local baddie Gilly Martin (James Ransone) moronically picks a fight with Paul and is soundly thrashed by our hero.

As these things must go, Gilly exacts revenge upon Paul, leaving him (and dog) for dead in the desert.

Bad idea.

Paul comes back to town, driven by hate.

The inevitable killing spree ensues.

Travolta's biggest challenge: Idiot Progeny!

West's script is lean, mean and sprinkled with plenty of witty dialogue. As per usual, he displays a first-rate eye for action, editing the picture with hard-driving aplomb and garnering solid performances from his all-star cast. Hawke makes for a stellar and stalwart cowpoke hero, the villains (especially Ransome and Larry Fessenden) ooze the proper amount of nasty Peckinpah-like scum-baggery and the camera utterly adores the spunky Ukrainian-American Princess Farmiga (Vera's lil sissy) who spits her lines out like some perverse cross twixt Maddie Ross and Addie Pray.

The real fun is seeing John Travolta as the town marshall, a beleaguered father to a moron son. Dad doesn't want to kill, but he will if he has to defend the rotting fruit sired from his seed.

In a Valley of Violence might not be the most wildly original western ever made, but it is a damn solid one and offers considerable entertainment value from a filmmaker who is fast becoming one of the most reliable and talented young directors in America.

Finally, no summation of this picture's virtues would be complete without a special nod to Abbie the dog, a sweet animal who delivers a lovely performance. What happens to the dog shouldn't happen to a dog, but no matter. You will rejoice in the sweet revenge on the animal's behalf. It's a bloody beautiful thing.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***½ Three-and-a-half Stars

In a Valley of Violence enjoys its Canadian Premiere at Fantasia 2016.

THE REVENANT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - There isn't even a revenant in this dull western

Leo Di Caprio vs Richard Harris
Who will survive? What will be left of them?

The Revenant (2015)
Dir. Alejandro G. Iñárritu
Scr. Iñárritu and Mark L. Smith
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Tom Hardy, Will Poulter, Domhnall Gleeson, Forrest Goodluck

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Look, if I go see a movie called The Revenant, is it too goddamn much to ask that the movie be about a revenant? I'm not referring to some artsy-fartsy notion of a revenant - a man who has returned from certain death to wreak havoc and vengeance. No! I mean a goddamn REVENANT - a mean-ass supernatural mo-fo sharing properties of vampires, zombies and/or demons. Revenants are scary sonsabitches who delightfully did weave their grotesque way in and out of European, Nordic and West Indian folklore. Now, putting one of those suckers into a western, would genuinely kick solid ass.

Unfortunately, The Revenant is a new film by Alejandro G. Iñárritu, a filmmaker who wouldn't know kick-ass if it came and bit him on the, uh, ass. We all know this. We've seen the insufferable (and insufferably titled) Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) with its twee preciousness capturing the imaginations of film critics thinking they're, uh, smart or something and "sophisticated" audiences who are little more than pseuds looking for any excuse to crap on movies that might be even mildly entertaining. I won't even bother wasting bile on Iñárritu's previous works of dour schwance-stroking, but let it be said that he's managed to miraculously crap out another turd that's going to have way too many critics and award-givers handing out the gold.

Based loosely on the adventures of real-life frontiersman Hugh Glass, Iñárritu's film charts the tale of trappers on the run from a Native tribe on the warpath. When the trappers' chief scout Glass (Leonardo Di Caprio) is mauled by a grizzly bear, he's left in the care of his son (Forrest Goodluck) and a mangy psychopath (Tom Hardy). The psycho kills both son and father, leaving them behind with one whopper of a lie to tell everyone else. Well, it turns out Dad Glass isn't dead after all. He's hurt bad and mighty pissed off.

Still, it's going to take well over an hour of screen time to watch him lurch through the wilderness to catch up to the psycho and wreak vengeance. Lurching, crawling, hobbling, groaning and gurgling await us for over one whole goddamn hour. And once we get to the vengeance part, things continue to drag on and we get little more than an unsatisfying, artsy-fartsy version of revenge. No Joe Don Baker or Chuck Bronson shenanigans await us here.

On top of everything else, the movie is stuffed to the gills with all manner of noble, mystic savage nonsense attributed to the Aboriginal characters. That's because Iñárritu is an artist, don'cha know? Or rather, an artiste. (We know he's an artiste since he lets cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki eke out a whole passel of picture postcards.)

Iñárritu's artist pedigree allows him to engage in typical outdated cultural gymnastics because he's a bit of a mystic, eh. He's got a whole lotta heady shit to say about the human condition, and good goddamn won't he be all high falutin' about it, too? Frankly, the only difference between The Revenant and The Ridiculous Six is that Iñárritu is not Adam Sandler, but because he's not, he'll NOT get crapped on, but will instead get one heapin' helpin' of those reverent accolades.

Who amongst them is the REAL man?

The story of Hugh Glass was previously made into Man in the Wilderness, a pretty enjoyable 1971 western by Richard C. Sarafian (who directed one of the greatest car chase movies of all time, Vanishing Point). It starred the always-intense Richard Harris as Glass and taking the role of the leader of the scum "whut-done" abandoned him, the film served up the manly, chortling old geezer John Huston. For our troubles in The Revenant, Iñárritu hands us the bearded, grunting monkey-boy Leo and, good gracious, the spindly Domhnall Gleeson. Thankfully, Tom Hardy acquits himself magnificently as the slurring, drooling psycho, but everyone else in The Revenant is so weighted down by the lofty seriousness of Iñárritu's "vision" that we might as well be watching it after being mauled by a big, old grizzly bear.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *½ One and a half Stars.

The Revenant is in platform, followed by wide release through 20th Century Fox

THE HATEFUL EIGHT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Tarantino DeliversThree-Hour, 70mm "Columbo" episode (sans Columbo) in the Old West: Notstupid or awful like Star Wars, mind you, and not as pretentious as TheRevenant.

The Hateful Eight (2015)
Dir. Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Tim Roth,
Michael Madsen, Bruce Dern, Demián Bichir, Walter Goggins, Zoë Bell,
Channing Tatum, Dana Gourrier, James Parks, Lee Horsley, Gene Jones,
Belinda Owino, Keith Jefferson, Bruce Del Castillo, Craig Stark

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I've loved every Quentin Tarantino movie since Jackie Brown. Though I much prefer The Hateful Eight to his overrated first and second features Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, I'm still not quite feeling the love I wanted to.

However, if you're going to see it, don't bother with the shorter digital version, and do whatever you can to see his longer 70mm roadshow version (complete with overture and intermission). For all its shortcomings, the picture is clearly meant to be seen on film, on a big screen and with all the old-style showmanship which contributes to its playability.

That said, try finding venues which can actually show the movie properly. Most theatre chains in North America (in Canada you can blame Cineplex), busted the IATSE projectionists' union many moons ago and you might be stuck with pimply ushers pathetically trying to unspool the picture.

I also reserve the right to like the movie a whole lot more on subsequent viewings.

Then again, I equally reserve the right to like it a whole lot less.

So why my mixed feelings? Well, on the surface, the picture has everything going for it. From Robert Richardson's first-rate cinematography to Ennio Morricone's evocative score and Yohei Taneda's stunning production design, the movie is visually sumptuous.

The ensemble cast never disappoints and Tarantino plugs plenty of his trademark smart-ass, deliciously foul-mouthed dialogue into their mouths. The characters are rich and varied for the proceedings as they unfold, though they often feel either archetypal or almost self-referential (to Tarantino more so than his cinematic influences) - taking a few small steps out of the norm, but maybe too small.

As well, whether in the snowy exteriors or warm interiors, compositions twixt Tarantino and Richardson capture both the intricate blocking and when necessary, superlative closeups which create indelible etchings of the myriad of compelling faces.

Is it the structure?

Not necessarily. I was pleased enough with the literary conceit of chapters to break the action up.

Is it the story itself? Well, as it tells the tale of two bounty hunters with diametrically opposed approaches to securing their quarry who, along with a variety of miscreants, all find themselves snowed in at an outpost on the trail to the next town, there's nothing especially wrong with it.

Though there's a lot more about it that should be right, but isn't.

Kurt Russell's John Ruth prefers to take 'em alive so his prisoner can go to trial and suffer by hanging, while Samuel L. Jackson's Major Marquis Warren has no time for such style - he shoots 'em dead, collects the bodies and dumps them in the hands of the law to collect his dough - no muss, no fuss.

Ruth's baggage is the bounty named Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a vicious, slovenly killer who feels close to the real-life Calamity Jane (the less-than-charitable Jane with weather-beaten face, stringy unwashed hair, a borderline psychopathic personality, manly features, obsessive characteristics and a history of poverty, dalliances with prostitution and a general illiterate, inbred, cracker barrel demeanour). This is all well and good. Jackson's saucy speechifying and Russell's incessant habit of belting Daisy in the face, are not without merit.

Where the story disappoints somewhat is that it's essentially a mystery with various members taking on roles as "detective" while others gum up the works as they're clearly not who they purport to be. On the plus side, every single character is a total scumbag. This is just fine, since many of them are damn entertaining and kind of likeable. (Bruce Dern is a favourite of mine in the movie and made me long for a Tarantino picture with him as the main character.)

It's the mystery itself which seems by rote. We know mysterious shit's gone down and that sooner or later we're going to get to the bottom of it. Unfortunately these almost procedural qualities are what tend to bog the picture down and the "ride", so to speak, along with various twists and turns feel so de rigueur that our attention span tends to wander amongst the unwieldy length of the piece. We're never especially interested in the mystery and oddly, it feels like a huge weight that hangs over everything. The mystery needs to be dealt with, but that's all it feels like. It's major a drag upon the eventual explosions of over the top violence and Tarantinoesque nuttiness.

The film also has an extremely rich subtext dealing with post-Civil-War America, but it often feels like it gets short-shrift by way of the overly-plotted aspects of the mystery itself which ultimately, is hardly that complex, lopsidedly feeling like the be-all-end-all of everything.

This is by no means a bad film, but the fact remains that it is fraught with longueurs applied to elements far less interesting than the subtext. To be bored during a Tarantino picture seems vaguely heretical, but boring it often is and no matter what engaging trappings are attached to the proceedings, we find ourselves impatiently gazing down at our respective time-pieces, wondering when the whole thing is going to be over with.

I'll take the longueurs here, though, over those in pictures like Star Wars: The Force Awakens which are ultimately about nothing, whereas the flaws attached to Tarantino's vision at least try to be about something.

I'll accept that anytime.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: *** Three Stars

The Hateful Eight plays in 70mm roadshow in select cinemas and digital everywhere else via The Weinstein Company

THE KEEPING ROOM - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Precious, Pretentious "Feminist" Western

The Keeping Room (2014)
Dir. Daniel Barber
Scr. Julia Hart
Starring: Brit Marling, Hailee Steinfeld, Manu Otaru,
Sam Worthington, Kyle Soller, Nicholas Pinnock, Ned Dennehy, Amy Nuttall

As Sherman marched through the South, decimating everything in his path, he placed considerable trust in his scouts to sniff out what lay ahead that could be burned and/or pillaged. Given that the menfolk on the Rebel side were off being slaughtered by the Yankees in a bloodthirsty, unevenly matched war, those left behind in the South were women, children, the old and infirm. One can't exactly place much in the way of heroism in Sherman's deeds, nor according to this movie, in those of his scouts who only had one thing on their minds - and we all know what that was.

Julia Hart's screenplay focuses upon those women left behind and her earnest efforts certainly exemplify the old college try, but for all its female bonding, attention to detail and attempts at putting a revisionist feminist spin on things, the whole affair comes up short - partially due to the too-lean script and Daniel Barber's precious direction.

The picture is finally little more than a Straw Dogs wannabe crossed with Kelly Reichardt's astonishing Meek's Cutoff.

Three women, comprised of two Southern belle sisters (TV stalwart Marling and True Grit's Steinfeld) and their female slave (Manu Otaru) live a hard, lonely life without the menfolk around to handle the heavy lifting. In addition to all the womanly household chores, they're out in the fields trying to yield what they can from the earth - Marling even ventures into the woods with her shotgun to try hunting.

Goldurn it, these ladies is never goin' hungry agin.

Just a ways down the road, a pair of Yankee scouts (Sam Worthington, Kyle Soller) are having one grand old time: pillaging, stealing, drinking, cussing, killing and most of all, raping. Yes, these boys just loves to rape. They spend so much time sniffing out prime flesh and then raping and killing it, one wonders when they have any time to do what General Sherman needs them to do.

Soon enough, these randy rapists will be coming to call upon our trio and we spend a good chunk of the movie watching the womenfolk defending their virtue and home. Along the way, the movie provides some passing nods to race relations and sexuality, but the name of the game is rape and revenge. Curiously, there's not much in the way of rape - there's one attempt upon the feisty Steinfeld, followed by plenty of prowling around and eventually the inevitable extraction of vengeance.

One can't quarrel with any of the solid, try-as-they-might performances and the gorgeous visuals, but this is one dull, precious and pretentious movie. It carries itself with an elegiac lope, but there's no real heft to its pseudo-arty rambling. It wants to have its cake and eat it too by taking a good wallow in girlie-girl concerns and some good old fashioned ultra violence, but just in case we'd mistake it for an exploitation item, everything is paced like that snail Col. Kurtz talks about in Apocalypse Now, slooooooowwwwwwllllllyyyy "crawling along the edge of a straight razor".

By the time the relatively modest running time unspools towards its "surprise" (not really) killing and the fake solidarity of womanhood as the ladies destroy everything before the Yankees can destroy it, we've felt like the movie has gone on forever and we're delivered one final sickening blow, the trilling of a mournful song whilst our trio disappear into the vastness that will become a new America. (Hmmm, I think I'm making it sound better than it is.)

The only real revisionism here is taking a potentially drama-charged setting and scenario, then slowing it down to a molasses ooze to fool some people into thinking they're seeing art. If there was a good screenplay here, director Barber hasn't done it any favours by applying a bargain basement Kelly Reichardt Meek's Cutoff contemplative approach to the proceedings. What was great there, is a big snore here. And, by the way, if you are hankering for a great revisionist western with a solid female character and perspective, you'd be better off with that film than The Keeping Room.

It's the real thing. This one's a fake.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ** Two Stars

The Keeping Room is in limited release via FilmsWeLike. In Toronto it unspools at the TIFF Bell Lightbox.

BARQUERO - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Lee Van Cleef & Warren Oates MAN 2 MAN!!!

Barquero (1970)
Dir. Gordon Douglas
Starring: Lee Van Cleef, Warren Oates, Forrest Tucker, Mariette Hartley

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Who is Gordon Douglas? Good question. Well, he's nobody's idea of an auteur, but the man directed 70+ feature films in a career that began in the Dirty 30s, grinding out comedies for Hal Roach, then as a studio contract director for the likes of RKO, Columbia and Warner Brothers until his retirement in the late 70s.

Did he make any stinkers? Plenty!

He also directed some of the best genre pictures with good, solid, two-fisted panache including San Quentin starring Lawrence Tierney, Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye with James Cagney, the sizzling McCarthy era I Was a Communist for the FBI, the truly great 50s science fiction big bug (Gigantic Ants, no less) classic Them, The Fiend Who Walked The West, the utterly insane western remake of the noir classic Kiss of Death, the supremely entertaining Elvis Presley Vs. the Mob musical Follow That Dream, the nutty Rat Pack comedy Robin and the Seven Hoods and one of the dirtiest, grittiest, nastiest crime pictures of the 60s, The Detective starring Frank Sinatra, the terrific Jim Brown Blaxsploitation picture Slaughter's Big Rip-Off (with Ed McMahon - YES! Ed McMahon as a villainous mob boss) and lest we forget, one of the funniest (and most offensive) Bob Hope comedies Call Me Bwana (wherein Bob goes on an African Safari to retrieve a valuable talisman from a "backwards" tribe in the jungle, but not before playing a round of gold with the great Arnold Palmer).

And then there's Douglas's greatest triumph, the all but forgotten western Barquero, a film which did double duty in the homage department, conjuring the disparate styles of Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch and those of Sergio Leone.

And what a rip-snorting western this is!

The always brilliant Warren Oates chews the scenery magnificently as a psychotic bandit who leads the wholesale slaughter of a western town to steal as many guns, ammo and bank money as humanly possible. His plan is to hijack a barge and destroy it after crossing a mighty river in order to thwart the posse hot on his ass.

Unfortunately, he doesn't reckon on having to square off against the tough-as-nails ferry owner, the mysterious, laconic gunfighter played by none other than Lee Van Cleef ("the Bad" of The Good, The Bad and The Ugly). Van Cleef partners with the kill-happy mountain man played by Forrest Tucker (in a hugely entertaining burly bear of a performance) and the two of then single-hsndedly wipe out Oates's entire mini-army of thugs.

The action and gunplay is first-rate and the movie even manages to settle into some casual character development on both sides of the fence due to a decent screenplay by George Schenck and William Marks.

The stunningly gorgeous Mariette Hartley made her motion picture debut in Sam Peckinpah's Ride The High Country in which, as a child-bride-to-be is married to a grizzled cowpoke inbred who plans to share her on their wedding night with his even more repulsive inbred brothers and pappy. Here, some seven years later, she's forced to spend a night of unbridled passion with the manly Van Cleef after she begs him to save her husband's life. "I'll do anything," she weeps. And anything is what she does.

Tucker delivers the performance of his career as a recluse who can only really hack the company of one man, Lee Van Cleef naturally. He always seems to show up when Van Cleef needs him most. Thank God, too (for Van Cleef and us) since he's an expert at quiet, vicious kills. A special bonus is that he's a supremely friendly fellow and bestows considerable kindness upon his victims before torturing and/or dispatching them.

And Warren Oates! What can be said about one of America's greatest actors that hasn't already been said? Oates is completely, utterly and deliciously over-the-top as the psychotic villain who refuses to acquiesce to the mighty river blocking his way to freedom. At one point, his character, increasingly under the influence of mood-altering weed, crazily looks at the deep, roiling currents, pulls his six-shooters and begins madly emptying the chambers into the river. Bravo, Warren! He might be completely overblown here, but there isn't a moment we don't believe him.

A western classic? Yes and no. Its homages seem studio-influenced, but the fact remains that director Gordon Douglas pulls them off with considerable skill and the movie is never less than engaging. It may not be a bonafide classic, but Good God Damn, it comes mighty close and it's certainly one supremely decent ass-kicker of a western.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***

Barquero is available on a Kino-Lorber BluRay.

FRONTERA - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Contemporary Border Hopping Western in limited Theatrical via VSC

Frontera (2014)
Dir. Michael Berry
Starring: Ed Harris, Michael Peña, Eva Longoria, Aden Young, Amy Madigan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Frontera has the misfortune of being a watchable drama about the dangers facing "illegal" Mexican migrant workers crossing over the border into America. I say "misfortune" because the huge number of similar films has yielded several with which the bar has been set extremely high, one that Michael Berry's superbly acted and gorgeously photographed film is simply unable to reach due to its middling script (co-written by Berry with Louis Moulinet). If a picture can't come even remotely close to Robert M. Young's groundbreaking neo-realistic-styled Alambrista, Tony Richardson's stunning, existentialist-male-angst thriller The Border and the more recent docudrama Who is Dayani Cristal?, it's pretty much going to be the cat in the bag, with said bag in the river.

This is what befalls Frontera, a modest drama which offers us a multi-character narrative full of by-the-numbers story beats, that are not without some merit, but cumulatively add up to something feeling a lot more made-for-cable than a theatrical feature. Peña plays a Mexican who gets railroaded into a murder rap after he crosses the border into redneck Arizona territory on land, too coincidentally belonging to retired ex-lawman Harris. Peña's pregnant wife, Longoria, knowing her husband is a good and decent family man follows his path, but gets kidnapped by unscrupulous Mexican smugglers who are little more than ransom-seekers.

Adding a standard TV procedural sub-plot to the already-crowded proceedings, Harris smells a rat and begins investigating the murder all on his lonesome, butting heads with new sheriff Aden Young who is, in fact, trying to cover up the identity of the real killers. Alas, all these connected threads proceed predictably, since from the beginning, there's no real mystery as to who's who and who's done what. It all feels like a matter of running time before everything's sewn up in favour of the disenfranchised over the corrupt.

What's finally served up here is something that Ed Harris and/or Michael Peña admirers might enjoy if they're in a laid-back channel-flipping or V.O.D. mood. Those simply drawn to the subject matter, might be less enthralled. The political and social implications of America's ludicrously two-faced and corrupt border policies are all touched-upon, but frustratingly take a back seat to familiar melodramatic turns.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **½ Two-and-a-half Stars

Frontera is in limited theatrical release via VSC and currently screens at the Magic Lantern Carlton Cinemas in Toronto. It's availability on home entertainment platforms is inevitable.

My reviews of Alambrista can be found HERE and Who is Dayani Cristal? is HERE.

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BOSS NIGGER aka "Boss", "The Boss", "The Black Bounty Killer" - Review By Greg Klymkiw @FantasiaFest2014

Play the theme song from BOSS NIGGER sung by Terrible Tom while you read the review:

"Look Mayor, you've been hunting black folks for so long,
we just wanted to see what it'd be like to hunt white folks."

Boss Nigger (1974) ****
aka Boss, The Boss, The Black Bounty Killer
dir. Jack Arnold
Starring: Fred Williamson, D'Urville Martin, R.G. Armstrong, William Smith, Carmen Hayworth, Barbara Leigh

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Boss (Fred Williamson), a tough, tall and lean African-American cowboy, counts his reward money, pockets it obligingly, then flashes a big smile at the racist lawman who grudgingly had to pay it out. "I wants to thank ya, Sheriff," says our title character. "Sorry, we ain't got time to stay for supper, but we got us more whities to catch."

And so begins Boss Nigger, one of the best westerns of the 70s. Boss and his trusty, wiseacre sidekick Amos (D'Urville Martin) ride off into the picturesque natural beauty of New Mexico in search of their next easy kill - always wanted, dead or alive and yes, always of the White Trash Caucasian Persuasion.

Now if you saw Quentin Tarantino's Django Unchained and thought the idea of an African-American bounty hunter was original, just remind yourself that QT's entire output has been steeped in ripping off, or rather, referencing the works of older films he revered as being cooler than cool.

And don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the Jamie Foxx/Christoph Waltz western bloodbath, but Boss Nigger is the real thing.

JED: Go ahead and kill me, Nigger!
BOSS: That's "Mr. Nigger" to you!
JED: Then go to Hell, Mr. Nigger!
BOSS: To Hell is where you're going!

Made almost forty years ago, it's way ahead of its time and proves to be more cutting edge revisionist than Tarantino's. Written and produced by the former football champ turned superstar and directed by the legendary Jack Arnold (The Incredible Shrinking Man, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, The Mouse That Roared), this terrific duster blends old fashioned western tropes with the very best elements of Blaxsploitation. Don't forget that Django needed to be rescued and taught the trade by a White Man, but Boss Nigger and Amos are former slaves who broke free all on their own and carved a path of destruction to emancipate their fellow brothers in the legendary Nigger Charley series (not to mention that Django is single-minded in the pursuit of securing his wife's freedom at the expanse of anyone, whereas Williamson's character is all about making America a better place for all oppressed people of colour).

How can anyone not like a film wherein
Fred Williamson goes at it with William Smith? 

And so it is that Boss and Amos are on their way to a wild, wooly tank town bereft of a sheriff in order to track down Jed Clayton (William Smith), the meanest, orneriest criminal psychopath this side of Hell and his gang of bloodthirsty, shoot 'em up, rotgut-guzzling and female-violating redneck racists. The pair rescue the beautiful Clara Mae (Carmen Hayworth) from gang rape at the hands of some Clayton cowpokes, deposit her in the care of some kind Mexican-Americans on the outskirts of town, then proceed to nominate themselves as Sheriff and Deputy of a town so corrupt that its Mayor (R.G. Armstrong) is secretly in cahoots with Clayton.

Boss and Amos waste no time in posting the new laws of the town which all include hefty fines for spitting, cussing, shooting and worst of all, using the word "nigger". Many townspeople are shocked by this and would just as soon put up with the Status Quo, but some, like the sexy schoolteacher Miss Pruitt (Barbara Leigh) are relieved that law has come to their town. She even develops a mad crush on the muscular, leather-adorned Boss Nigger.

In addition to their shenanigans in town, the Boss and Amos wreak havoc upon the huge gang of cutthroats and Boss Nigger reigns solidly as a violent, action-packed western of the highest order.

Jack Arnold's helmsmanship is first-rate, the fisticuffs, shootouts and explosions are taut and engaging and Fred Williamson's writing equally so.

The dialogue is especially ripe and you'll feel like delivering a standing ovation when the prim, proper schoolmarm Miss Pruitt begs Boss to take her along when he leaves town after tidying up his business. Williamson, always the King of Cool, writes himself one of the best lines in movie history. Bidding the sexy schoolteacher farewell, he says:

"Lady, a Black Man's got enough trouble in this world without a White woman following him around."

Enough trouble, indeed!

Boss Nigger (with the title Boss) is playing at the 2014 FantAsia International Film Festival in Montreal.