warlock bandolero

Westerns recycle better than any other genre, repurposing old plots, sets, scenery, even actors in such a way that each new production seems, if not quite "fresh," then at least a few weeks away from its "use by" date. 1959's Warlock isn't adding anything particularly new with its story of a community desperately in search of a lawman to handle a herd of out of control cowboys (in fact, Blazing Saddles would lift the entire scenario wholesale 15 years later). But the characters presented here are far from stereotypical; and director Edward Dmytryk's film is anything but a spoof.

The town of Warlock has gone through more than its fair share of deputies, all either killed or run out of town by Abe McQuown (Tom Drake) and his gang of rowdy cattle-rustlers, which includes one soft-spoken conscientious objector, Johnny Gannon (Richard Widmark), who thinks things have gone too far. In a last ditch effort, civic leaders hire on Clay Blaisedell (Henry Fonda), a Sheriff-for-hire who, with his partner Tom Morgan (Anthony Quinn), have made a comfortable living removing the riff-raff from towns all over the southwest.

But as a gunfighter working outside the law, Blaisedell is only a stopgap measure, supplying a temporary reprieve at an exorbitant cost. So Gannon agrees to wear an official badge and go up against his former gang as well as Blaisedell, who has vowed to kill any ruffians who ride back into town. Outmanned and outgunned, Gannon's noble effort may very well earn him the respect of the community...but cost him a bullet in the back.

Warlock looks and sounds just like every other western, but it feels dramatically different. The script, based on a novel by Oakley Hall, populates the town with characters who aren't so easily defined; who harbor secret desires, old grudges and bad habits; liars, cowards, heroes and killers, often all in the same package. How these people justify their actions makes up the meat-and-potatoes of Warlock's plot, despite an abundance of lynch mobs, barroom brawls and showdowns at high noon.

In the center of it all stands Henry Fonda, whose turn in the classic My Darling Clementine took on similar themes of savagery versus civilization. He occupies a gray area here, a man unsure of his philosophical footing, passing the baton to Widmark's character...albeit begrudgingly. Both actors are probably too old for their respective roles, but seem to relish the opportunity dig deep dramatically in a genre that rarely makes such a demand.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray is a must-buy for any western fan. The hi-def transfer is clean as a whistle, although the colors seems to pop a little less than the company's recent Fox releases. Extras include an isolated music track, Fox Movietone newsreel, trailer and liner notes.

Both James Stewart and Dean Martin were well past their expiration dates as leading men and love interests by the time Bandolero! (1968) came around. Which probably explains the addition of Raquel Welch, propping up an uncomfortable love triangle as a beautiful hostage dragged through Mexico by the pair of bank-robbing brothers while being pursued by yet another suitor, the flamboyantly monikered Sheriff July Johnson (George Kennedy). Despite a promising first act, this Hope-Crosby western crossover shows it age rather quickly, shifting from light comedy to bloody action picture in a desperate attempt to give the audience something - anything! - they want to see.

After breaking his brother Dee Bishop (Martin) out of jail by cleverly impersonating a hangman, Mace Bishop (Stewart) distracts the posse long enough to reunite the family on the trail to Mexico. Trouble is, they're in bandit country, where the only good gringo is a dead gringo. Luckily, their accidental hostage, Maria Stoner (Welch), knows the territory and leads them to safety, falling in love with Dee along the way. Unfortunately, the law and a gang of angry Mexicans catch up to them just a true love was beginning to blossom.

The first 30-minutes of Bandolero! is a charmer, focusing primarily on Mace's charade as a colorful hangman who takes great pride in his work. Stewart is in his element here and the script does a terrific job setting the stage for the gallows performance to come. Even the passage to Mexico, fraught with murderous bandits and some stunning scenery, has its moments. But director Andrew V. McLaglen never settles on a tone, relying on the colorful bickering between its two stars to carry the day. Suffice to say, Butch & Sundance would do it all much better just one year later.

There are myriad reasons why Bandolero! just feels wrong, starting with the May-December romance between Martin and Welch. The performers have zero chemistry and several decades between them; even Welch's forced Hispanic accent is far more convincing. Poor George Kennedy's subplot as a lovelorn Sheriff is wedged in like a square peg in a round hole. And the finale, which involves dozens of banditos riding around in circles like a theme park show - then running scared when their jefe is shot down - is just plain insulting. There's some enjoyment to be had out of watching a pro like Jimmy Stewart hop into the saddle one more time. But that's about all Bandolero! has to offer.

You'd be hard-pressed to find anything to complain about on Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray though. It looked simply superb and features an isolated music track, audio commentary, trailer and liner notes.