Henry Hathaway, a man who knew how to shoot scenery, apparently forgot how to make a decent movie with 1971's Shoot Out. This quickie flick, destined for the NBC Saturday Night Movie about 10 minutes after its theatrical run, has Gregory Peck being peckish, about a minute of James Gregory being the baddie that double-crossed Peck, Robert F. Lyons as the psycho gunslinger hired by Gregory, and 7-year-old Dawn Lyn as the cutesy, foul-mouthed little 'un dumped on Peck when he gets released from prison for a robbery gone sideways.
You also get the startle of seeing a hooker's slobber-covered boobs in the saloon's back room.
And this thing got a GP?
Hathaway's talent for lovely landscapes is lost on the viewer trying to translate the grammar-challenged westernese that spills out of everyone's mouth and with the grimacing from the scenery-chewing bad-guy behavior that would make anyone long for the quiet rationality of Richard Widmark's sociopath in Kiss of Death or the social responsibility of Andy Robinson in Dirty Harry.
Just to show you how stolid Peck got toward the end of his big-star career, he gets the chance to have a heart-to-heart with a farm widow (a pretty, curvy actress named Patricia Quinn), and when she opens up to him about how lonely she is, how she drinks herself to sleep every night pining away for a man in bed, Peck doesn't kiss her or make goo-goo eyes at her, he grasps her head, and I thought, "My God, he's gonna check her teeth!"
It's amazing how snarky one can get when watching a bastard stink- pot western.
You also get the startle of seeing a hooker's slobber-covered boobs in the saloon's back room.
And this thing got a GP?
Hathaway's talent for lovely landscapes is lost on the viewer trying to translate the grammar-challenged westernese that spills out of everyone's mouth and with the grimacing from the scenery-chewing bad-guy behavior that would make anyone long for the quiet rationality of Richard Widmark's sociopath in Kiss of Death or the social responsibility of Andy Robinson in Dirty Harry.
Just to show you how stolid Peck got toward the end of his big-star career, he gets the chance to have a heart-to-heart with a farm widow (a pretty, curvy actress named Patricia Quinn), and when she opens up to him about how lonely she is, how she drinks herself to sleep every night pining away for a man in bed, Peck doesn't kiss her or make goo-goo eyes at her, he grasps her head, and I thought, "My God, he's gonna check her teeth!"
It's amazing how snarky one can get when watching a bastard stink- pot western.