Kris Kristofferson, James Coburn, Bob Dylan d/ Sam Peckinpah
From 1973. This was one of the last big-budget films depicting Hollywood's curious version of the world of the American West. Quasi-mythic men struck heroic poses, faced death without fear or regret, drank ever-present whiskey for breakfast, had sex with eager harems whose job was to titillate the audience and mourn the inevitable fallen.
Highly stylized, beautifully photographed, very violent. This was as well done as many but from my perspective it strained much too hard to achieve an artificial sensibility. SP lacked the truly operatic sensibility that made Sergio Leone's films so memorable.
Dylan can't act at all. He provided the music...which included the wonderful "knockin on heaven's door." However all the other songs used were him screeching pretty good lyrics that were written out of his vocal range.
Some consider this a classic...not a foolish opinion...but to me it mostly seemed like the end of the line.
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