The Wild Bunch

Sam Peckinpah described his film, The Wild Bunch as a story about bad men in changing times. And, in a sense, there really isn't much more to it than that. But it is also a statement about violence and men -- two themes which would follow Peckinpah for his entire career. Many call this his masterpiece and one of the greatest westerns ever made. I wouldn't call it either. I've seen it three times now, and I enjoy it more each time I watch it, but at the same time, I can't help but realize that, to the extent that I continue enjoy it, no new depths or truths are revealed through repeat viewings. Its reputation is primarily based on two scenes -- the opening bank robbery and the end shoot out -- the latter of which is undeniably one of the great scenes in cinema history. Peckinpah assembles a great cast of mostly familiar character actors that audiences already naturally associated with the Western. William Holden, as leader of the bunch, Pike Bishop, is the only one that, besides this film, I never associated with the genre, nevertheless, he gives one of his most memorable performances. Other cast members include Ernest Borgnine, Robert Ryan, Warren Oates, Ben Johnson, and Edmond O'Brien -- four of which were Academy Award winners, and Robert Ryan was once nominated. Only Warren Oates, never even received a nomination in their career. But watching them on screen, the last thing you're thinking is "I'm watching an Academy Award winning actor." You're mostly thinking that they're great character actors, because that's exactly what they were -- egoless actors who played a particular character as well as you're ever likely to see.

In 1969, when the film was released, Roger Ebert wrote that it was probably the most violent film he had ever seen, yet it was this very fact -- the extreme violence -- that, to him, it felt even more like a movie than had the violence been more tame. It ceased to be shocking or graphic, and became an element that made the film self-conscious. Today, 35 years later, I have seen numerous films that a gorier and more violent than this film, but, in a way, the violence in this film may be even more shocking now than when it was released. It is no longer the most violent film ever made, and now, no longer needs to be viewed as self conscious. But I don't find it shocking because of the numerous spurts of blood (it has been said, that more bullets were fired on the set of this film than in the entire Mexican revolution during which the film is set) or the fact that many of the deaths were in slow motions (Howard Hawks was quoted as saying he could kill off a half-dozen men in the time it took Peckinpah to kill one), but the mercilessness of it all. The villainous characters that make up the bunch are just that, villainous. I can't imagine such characters appearing in a film today. The bunch shoot women, instigate shoot outs with children around, and escape from a bank robbery by using a church parade as cover. It's very cold and detached -- very natural. They do not wrack themselves with guilt over the morality of it all and ultimately choose to kill, nor do they have a code of conduct determining who can and can't be killed and when, they merely kill without second thought.

But I can't deny that there is an invisible quality to the film that makes it better than it probably should be. The very nature of its violence seems to be making a statement about it. Men -- good or bad -- in the midst of changing times is a familiar theme to the Western, but it always seems to work. There is a quasi-spiritual aspect to the idea of men who refuse to be tamed by the mechinization of industry and the conquest of progress. It is here were the Western will always relive its glories as one of the few, pure American art forms. I don't think that this is one of the greatest Western's of all time, but it does have a deserved influence and a quality that will continue to attract viewers for decades to come even if they have no idea who Sam Peckinpah was.