"B" Rating by Robert W. Hammerle

In reviewing Ed Harris' "Appaloosa," I need to make an admission in the interest of full disclosure. As an art form, I have always loved westerns. I find them romantic and exhilarating, and I continue to bemoan the fact that they have all but disappeared from the big screen.

The fact is that they don't make them like they use to because they don't want to. Despite two recent examples of excellent western films, namely "The Proposition" (2005) and last year's "3:10 to Yuma," Hollywood has shown little interest in this subject matter. That remains a shame.

However, in light of the recent death of the great Paul Newman, it is worth revisiting this genre for a moment. While you can argue the point, tell me that there has been a better film ever made than "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (1969). If you remain unconvinced, then go take a look at possibly the best western ever made, Howard Hawks brilliant "Red River" (1948). Then treat yourself to the series of the sensational films directed by John Ford, "Fort Apache" (1948), "She Wore a Yellow Ribbon" (1949) and maybe the greatest of all, "The Searchers" (1956).

No, I am not saying that "Appaloosa" in any way measures up to those fantastic films. Furthermore, it will never be a great commercial success, as I suspect most moviegoers will find it far too slow paced for their taste.

But Ed Harris's laconic tale revisits classic western themes and repackages them as a brooding, film as spartan as the scenery serving as a backdrop. Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen, who were so wonderful together in David Cronenberg's "A History of Violence" (2005), are Virgil Cole and Everett Hitch, two lawmen for hire who dispense justice, law and order at the point of a gun. Their marshal having been murdered by a band of desperados led by a loquacious Jeremy Irons, Harris and Mortensen are hired by the town of Appaloosa to bring peace to the valley.

The relationship between Harris and Mortensen define the dimensions of this film, and there are some stirring emotional moments. If you think of the great westerns, some of which are referred to above, they were at their heart morality tales centered on male friendship. Like Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas (Marshal Wyatt Earp and 'Doc' Holliday) in John Sturges's "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral" (1957), Cole and Hitch long to find a quiet life that their vocation as hired gunmen denies them.

The same basic plot was found in the justifiably revered "High Noon" (1952) and John Ford's "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" (1962). In the former, Gary Cooper was a lawman who risks his marriage to Grace Kelly in deference to his duty as a threatened lawman, and in the latter John Wayne represented the dying West as he surreptitiously helped Jimmy Stewart's lawyer survive so that an evolving frontier would be a more stable place.

And then there was "Lonesome Dove" (1989), the greatest miniseries ever to appear on television. In its faithful recreation of Larry McMurtry's wonderful book of the same name, Tommy Lee Jones and Robert Duvall played Woodrow F. Call and Augustus 'Gus' McCrae, two old Texas rangers who decide to go on a long cattle drive from Texas to Montana largely for the adventure. Like many western movies, there were splendid battle scenes, but these movies were largely a platonic love story between two emotionally tired friends.

"Appaloosa" is no different. Harris is splendid as the driving moral force of this duo, while Mortensen does all he can to watch his buddy's back. While Harris is clearly tired of their drifting lifestyle, Mortensen is younger and more fatalistic in his outlook.

The greatest weakness in this movie is when the plot centers on other characters. As splendid as Jeremy Irons is as an actor, he is given precious little to do as Randall Bragg, the cosmopolitan leader of a bunch of ragtag killers. Unfortunately, he spent most of the film as a prisoner of our heroes, and this woefully diminished not only his impact, but also the emotional impact of the movie.

Equally unfortunate was the character Allison French, played by Renée Zellweger. On a positive note and meaning no disrespect, her mousy features did give her a natural look as a frontier woman who, while still attractive, has obviously led a hard life.

But it soon became evident that she was a rather pathetic creature who was so desperate that she basically agreed to go with any man who would show her some attention. On the other hand, while Mr. Harris was completely aware of Zellweger's shallowness, he was not a demanding guy. For as he told Mortensen, "She even takes a bath every night before she goes to bed."

In the end, while this movie probably had more style than substance, it succeeded in capturing the atmosphere of a time long lost to history. For me, that time is worth remembering.