BACK in 1969, I was less impressed than some, more impressed than others, by Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch. It seemed then—as now, upon its re-release in an uncut version—a Western that pushed violence to new extremes, that used its well-chosen landscapes superlatively, that had more local color than most, especially in its Mexican scenes. But it was also mired in confusion about both its plot and its characters. This confusion, now that we have become used to blood spurting from people who have been shot, or to the sense of melancholy overtaking these aging outlaws in 1913, seems even more palpable and obfuscatory.
Consider all that is being juggled here. There is a rapacious railroad boss whose office is robbed by the outlaw bunch under Pike Bishop’s command; the shoot-out after the robbery—a trap set by Harrigan, the railroad tycoon— involves the killing in crossfire of any number of innocent bystanders. Harrigan’s posse is led by Deke Thornton, who must bring back Pike dead or alive within a month, or be returned to jail. A former friend and gang member of the eponymous Wild Bunch, he feels bad about hunting down Pike, with whom a part of him still wants to ride —another cliché by now. Also chasing Pike’s bunch is a contingent of U.S. Army greenhorns, who were guarding an arms-and-ammunition train Pike has robbed.




Comments