lawman

Classic western icons like John Wayne and Randolph Scott seem chiseled out of the very rock of Monument Valley itself, like immovable objects of American's manifest destiny. They were men of few words and absolutely zero self-doubt. But time chipped away much of the genre's cinematic statuary to the point where 1971's Lawman, starring the equally hard-as-granite Burt Lancaster, revolves around a hero who lives by a code so rigid and inflexible that the justice he finally delivers feels more like cruel and unusual punishment.

Director Michael Winner's film, working from a script by Gerald Wilson that gains more weight as it moves along, was almost certainly a reaction to the Spaghetti westerns that were cutting into Hollywood's bottom line. But the additional sex and violence (apparently a bit more of both exist in the international version) can't be dismissed as meaningless or exploitive. In fact, the stereotypical main street showdown, when it finally arrives, is so powerfully nihilistic it leaves the audience as empty as Lancaster's doomed lawman.

Arriving in the town of Sabbath with a corpse slung over the back of his horse, Jared Maddox (Lancaster) is on a mission to claim seven more men - dead or alive - to stand trial for a murder committed during a drunken riot in his own small town of Bannock. The suspects in question all work for Vincent Bronson (Lee J. Cobb), a land baron who has the entire town, including Sheriff Cotton Ryan (Robert Ryan), in his debt.

Bronson, however, is a benevolent dictator, even offering to parlay with Maddox over the terms of surrender. But another killing drives a wedge between the two men before a truce can be struck; a truce Maddox may never have wanted in the first place. Single-minded in his defense of the letter of the law, this self-described "killer of men" credits his very existence to making no exceptions. And it becomes clear, despite a last-ditch attempt by an old flame (Sheree North) to prove otherwise, that Maddox isn't about to change his stripes.

Without resorting to the sort of over praise that only sets up unrealistic expectations, Lawman is one hell of a movie! What begins as a series of tired clichés and familiar faces (heck, half the thespian population of Sabbath are veterans of a dozen other westerns) turns into something surprisingly original. Lancaster fills his boots with a character of remarkable depth, yet one that is the heel rather than the hero. In fact, it's Ryan and Lee J. Cobb, whose roles would likely be one-sided representations of corruption in another film, that carry the tragic burden of peacemakers.

The script gives Maddox one desperate chance at redemption, a fleeting glimpse at what his golden years could have been, then sends him plunging into a western purgatory of endless quick draws and hanging ropes. Robert Duvall, Richard Jordan and Sheree North make as much of an impression in their small roles as the above the title talent, proving once again that Lancaster was always looking out for the big picture. Only in this case, he rides off into an inferno rather than a sunset.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition looks every bit as good as you'd expect, with an isolated music track, trailer and liner notes as extras.