I remember while watching Nevada Smith as a boy being befuddled near the movie’s climax when Nevada has a change of heart toward the man who killed his parents. The same man he had vowed revenge on and pursued for all those years. He sought this man the entire movie only to give up now? It made no sense. My cousin explained to me that heroes don’t kill for revenge and Nevada realized this thus becoming a true hero. Oh, I thought. OK. That makes sense. The film set me up for revenge as Nevada’s triumph and instead, he achieved a triumph of a different kind. Wow, what a great movie my 8-year old self thought. That was one of my first experiences with the Western. That archetype of the cowboy hero with the white hat has stayed with me – and stays with me still. Of course the portrayal of such heroes has become more complex. Perhaps, it was the cynical Vietnam-era movies like The Wild Bunch that ushered in the change. There the story centers on a ragtag group of anti-heroes and the viewer’s bloodlust is rewarded, in a sense, by a great violent ending (that also captivated my younger self). Live by the gun; die by the gun, so to speak. Later still, we have William Munny of Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. An anti-hero - his revenge scene is the best scene in a movie rife with great scenes -who can’t change yet he survives.
Mixing many of these archetypes and set on a smaller, character-driven scale – yet pregnant with epic ambition - is Seraphim Falls, a solid revenge movie that begins in the Ruby Mountains of Nevada in 1868 and ends in the cracked-earth desolation of a Nevada desert. Its main strength is the set-up: it begins as a terrific pursuit movie. Gideon (Pierce Brosnan) is shot while preparing a rabbit over a fire. He tumbles down the snowy mountain, falls into a icy river, and keeps on the move not knowing who pursues him or why. Soon we meet Carver (Liam Neeson) and 4 trackers. This opening sequence spans about 20 minutes and is done with minimal dialogue. It is exhilarating to watch. The patience of Carver contrasted with the frenzied escape of Gideon presents two elements that will define the rest of the story: Carver’s commitment to killing this man and Gideon’s ability to survive.
Carver wants Gideon dead for committing a terrible act of war involving Carver’s family in the waning days of the Civil War, an act that haunts both men. The one weakness of the screenplay (by David Von Ancken, who also directed, and Abby Everett Jaques) is that Gideon is given too much wiggle room to not be personally responsible for the crime against Carver’s family. His “it was war” excuse doesn’t satisfy Carver (and it shouldn’t), but it seemed that it tries to hard to exonerate him to the audience. In addition, the story almost loses its footing with some heavy-handed metaphors about using violence as an end versus finding a remedy to one’s problems. It worked for me – I didn’t mind the intrusion of the Indian at the waterhole or the traveling saleswoman peddling snake oil - with the exception of one scene where Gideon allows a bottle of elixir (“to fix what ails you”) to crash to the ground.
The movie is grounded by the performances: Brosnan is at his peak and probably the best I’ve ever seen him. Recovering in a small ranch while on the run, he has a gentle scene with a young boy then turns steely as the boy makes a grab for his satchel. Neeson matches him. His stature serves him well as the pursuit begins – he bullies the other trackers with the right amount of authority and threat. He faces an imperious railroad foreman with disdain and guile. Then his hulking presence, with the shoulders drooping, as he and Brosnan are both beaten and weary from the pursuit shows the cost of his obsession.
Carver’s quest for revenge puts him on the road that Gideon has been traveling all this time. Coming across an abandoned wagon in the desert, Carver remarks that there are choices a man makes to end up in a place like this. The real trick is finding out what a man needs to do to get out of a place like that.
No comments:
Post a Comment