A lawman (Hudson) and an outlaw (Douglas) join a trail drive where they meet rivalry, romance and danger.
Looks like Douglas' production company Brynaprod was aiming for an epic western on the order of Red River (1948). In terms of cinematic sweep and star-studded cast, they got it. The trail herd and surrounding vistas suggest a grand scale western. The problem is the rest of the film fails to equal that impressive dimension.
Now director Aldrich can do epic westerns better than most, as his estimable Vera Cruz (1954) shows. Here, however, he's saddled with four marquee performers, each of whom requires screen time equal to his or her status. That means the pacing gets disrupted by lengthy cameo scenes, especially the drawn-out romantic scenes. Thus the film tends to lumber rather than unfold.
Then too, scripter Trumbo can do screenplays with the best. Here, however, he's faced with the same problem and what we get is a meandering story, more contrived than most. The four main adults perform well enough; however, an 18-year old Lynley, even if she does bring in a younger audience, appears distinctly out of place on a trail drive, especially since she looks and acts like a malt shop refugee.
It also looks like the main force behind the on-screen results is Douglas himself. Hudson may get top billing, but the dramatics belong to O'Malley (Douglas). All in all, the movie boils down to a showcase for Douglas' many moods, including that overblown repose-in-death scene, lacking only a violin accompaniment.
Also looks to me like most any Hollywood actor could have handled Hudson's rather one- dimensional role as the straight shooting Stribling. It's a rather odd career choice for Hudson then at the peak of his box-office. (And what's with wasting such first-rate baddies as Brand and Elam, who may build up the supporting cast, but get little dialog or screen time. Ditto for the abandoned Regis Toomey, except I'm not sure who he's supposed to be.)
Moreover, I'm still puzzled over how the script's one interesting idea, the incest angle, is supposed to play out. Specifically, why is there a romantic haystack scene (Douglas & Lynley) following O'Malley's discovery about Missy.
Now, one way of looking at that scene is to view O' Malley as in a predicament. On one hand, he's been "intimate" with Missy, while on the other, he's likely her father. His predicament is that he can't tell her the facts since it might well ruin her life. At the same time, he doesn't want to hurt her feelings by suddenly ending the romance. So he tries to ease out of the relationship in the haystack scene. That may help her situation, but he's left with the grim knowledge for which there's only one solution, which he takes, thus providing motivation for throwing the shootout.
I don't know if this is what Trumbo had in mind. After all, I may have missed something. But it is one interpretation for an otherwise puzzling scene.
The movie does have one unusual and really riveting scene. The courtly John Breckenridge (Cotton) is challenged by saloon room thugs to drop his pants in order to show a war wound and avoid a shootout. It's humiliating for the southern gentleman, to say the least, and is unlike any other saloon dust-up that I've seen. Too bad that Cotten, a fine actor and character here, drops out so soon.
Nonetheless, considering all the talent involved, the film adds up to a disappointing two hours of lumbering horse opera. Frankly, I'm not surprised this was Brynaprod's final production.
(In passing—I can't help noticing that the Colorado-born Trumbo works two obscure Colorado towns into his script— Breckenridge and Julesburg. Such, I guess, are perquisites of screen writing.)
Looks like Douglas' production company Brynaprod was aiming for an epic western on the order of Red River (1948). In terms of cinematic sweep and star-studded cast, they got it. The trail herd and surrounding vistas suggest a grand scale western. The problem is the rest of the film fails to equal that impressive dimension.
Now director Aldrich can do epic westerns better than most, as his estimable Vera Cruz (1954) shows. Here, however, he's saddled with four marquee performers, each of whom requires screen time equal to his or her status. That means the pacing gets disrupted by lengthy cameo scenes, especially the drawn-out romantic scenes. Thus the film tends to lumber rather than unfold.
Then too, scripter Trumbo can do screenplays with the best. Here, however, he's faced with the same problem and what we get is a meandering story, more contrived than most. The four main adults perform well enough; however, an 18-year old Lynley, even if she does bring in a younger audience, appears distinctly out of place on a trail drive, especially since she looks and acts like a malt shop refugee.
It also looks like the main force behind the on-screen results is Douglas himself. Hudson may get top billing, but the dramatics belong to O'Malley (Douglas). All in all, the movie boils down to a showcase for Douglas' many moods, including that overblown repose-in-death scene, lacking only a violin accompaniment.
Also looks to me like most any Hollywood actor could have handled Hudson's rather one- dimensional role as the straight shooting Stribling. It's a rather odd career choice for Hudson then at the peak of his box-office. (And what's with wasting such first-rate baddies as Brand and Elam, who may build up the supporting cast, but get little dialog or screen time. Ditto for the abandoned Regis Toomey, except I'm not sure who he's supposed to be.)
Moreover, I'm still puzzled over how the script's one interesting idea, the incest angle, is supposed to play out. Specifically, why is there a romantic haystack scene (Douglas & Lynley) following O'Malley's discovery about Missy.
Now, one way of looking at that scene is to view O' Malley as in a predicament. On one hand, he's been "intimate" with Missy, while on the other, he's likely her father. His predicament is that he can't tell her the facts since it might well ruin her life. At the same time, he doesn't want to hurt her feelings by suddenly ending the romance. So he tries to ease out of the relationship in the haystack scene. That may help her situation, but he's left with the grim knowledge for which there's only one solution, which he takes, thus providing motivation for throwing the shootout.
I don't know if this is what Trumbo had in mind. After all, I may have missed something. But it is one interpretation for an otherwise puzzling scene.
The movie does have one unusual and really riveting scene. The courtly John Breckenridge (Cotton) is challenged by saloon room thugs to drop his pants in order to show a war wound and avoid a shootout. It's humiliating for the southern gentleman, to say the least, and is unlike any other saloon dust-up that I've seen. Too bad that Cotten, a fine actor and character here, drops out so soon.
Nonetheless, considering all the talent involved, the film adds up to a disappointing two hours of lumbering horse opera. Frankly, I'm not surprised this was Brynaprod's final production.
(In passing—I can't help noticing that the Colorado-born Trumbo works two obscure Colorado towns into his script— Breckenridge and Julesburg. Such, I guess, are perquisites of screen writing.)