No
period of American history is as vilified in popular culture as the days of the
Western Frontier, but not for reasons usually stated. The mythology of the Old
West established the Frontier as a safety valve and a guarantee of personal
liberty. If the local authorities and society ever became too stifling, a man
had the option of moving further off into that great open expanse of possibilities.
Of course, that is a dangerous notion for those who take it upon themselves to
tell others what to do. That is why nearly every contemporary Western produced
by studios or major minis is a revisionist Western (an usually quite lectury about
it). The Coen Brothers got away with a traditional Western when they remade
(quite rousingly) True Grit, but they
play it safer this time around. Still, there are a few traditional elements in
their mostly cynical The Ballad of Buster
Scruggs (trailer
here),
which launches today on Netflix.
Scruggs,
a.k.a. “The San Saba Songbird,” is not our narrator. He is our title story, sort
of like “The Outcasts of Poker Flats.” He also sets the tone. He croons and
dresses all in white, but he is a decidedly black-hearted villain, the irony of
which he delights in pointing out. Scruggs has been a hit with the sort of critics
who hate Westerns, but real viewers will probably find his shtick grows
tiresome. The same is even truer of the second story, featuring James Franco as
a bank robber plagued by luck so bad, it is sort of like Final Destination as written by O. Henry. It is easily the weakest installment
of the anthology film, as you probably already guessed, because of Franco.
Death
is a constant the Coens’ stories, but so is exploitation, which is particularly
pronounced in the third tale. Liam Neeson appears as a Mephistophelean Impresario
who cold-bloodedly tours backwater towns with circus geek-like orator of 19th
Century literary favorites. The grotesque elements are distinctive, but the
real point of the story is to rub our noses in how nasty and brutish the Old West
was.
That
is a rough start, but the film then turns a corner offering up three ripping
good yarns. We next meet Tom Waites playing an old prospector who might be
getting a little dotty, but he is persistent. He will also be forced to confront
issues of mortality and exploitation before the tale is done.
By
far, the best constituent narrative is “The Gal Who Got Rattled,” which really
could pass for a lost Bret Harte story. Alice Longabaugh is a young woman of
nervous disposition, due to the unhealthy influence of her jerkweed brother
Gilbert. When he dies not long after setting off on a wagon train to Oregon,
she is left at the mercy of their hired wagon driver. However, the caravan’s guides
take a liking to her, especially smitten Billy Knapp.
Frankly,
we’re impressed the Brothers Coen had the guts to tell this tale, because it incorporates
some decidedly old school traditional elements. It is also the most emotionally
engaging and honestly tragic. Zoe Kazan is absolutely terrific, in a
heartbreaking way, as mousy but resolute Alice Longabaugh. As Knapp, Bill Heck
hits the perfect “aw shucks” note, while developing some winningly earnest
chemistry with her. Yet, as Knapp’s crusty partner Mr. Arthur, Grainger Hines really
makes the story work, with the sort of performance that sneaks up on you and
then lowers the boom.
The
concluding segment is also a bit jokey, but the macabrely gothic riff on John
Ford’s Stagecoach works so much
better than the first three tall tales, precisely because of its weird
ambiguity. Plus, Brendan Gleeson plays a crooning Irish bounty-hunter, so what’s
not to like.
