Kes (1969)

 

Easy Rider (1969)

 

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

 

The Wild Bunch (1969) **

(This post will include spoilers.)

Revisionist westerns aren’t really my thing.  Yes, they are more realistic and grittier than the classic westerns of John Ford, but, for the most part, they seem to have more style than substance.  If I’m going to watch an ultra-violent western it better darn well have a compelling storyline that makes me care if someone gets shredded by bullets.  For example, Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West (1968) is a savage film, but at least it’s plot driven and makes you care about (or in Henry Fonda’s case, hate) its characters. Yet, in the case of director Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969), I had no investment in either its plot or its characters.  Yes, the gunfights are superbly edited and there is no sugar-coating what being shot actually looks and feels like, but so what?  I felt absolutely nothing when all of the outlaws (the “Wild Bunch”) got slaughtered for being sentimental idiots. And, I don’t care if Peckinpah believed that he was making an allegory about the senseless violence taking place in the Vietnam War at the time he was making the movie. At the end of the day, the only thing that matters to me is that at no point in the story did I find myself caring one way or the other about what happened to any of the characters.  I was not entertained, educated, or enthralled by anything in The Wild Bunch other than the, then new, editing style that Peckinpah and editor Lou Lombardo employed to create an epically barbaric final gunfight.  For me, that’s just not enough.

Penned by Peckinpah and Walon Green, the story is set along the Texas-Mexico border in 1913—the last days of the wild west and its outlaws.  Pike Bishop (William Holden) is the leader of a group of outlaws pursued by bounty hunters hired by the railroad.  After surviving an ambush at a bank in Texas, the “Wild Bunch” flee into Mexico to regroup and plan their next move. The outlaws are at a disadvantage because the bounty hunters are led by Pike’s former partner, Deke Thornton (Robert Ryan), a man familiar with how the group operates. A short flashback shows us that Deke had been captured by the law due to Pike’s whoring and drinking ways. As such, Pike suffers from guilt, while Deke must deal with his own betrayal of the outlaw code: “When you side with a man, you stay with him! And if you can't do that, you're like some animal, you're finished!” Anyway, the outlaws are hired by a corrupt Mexican Federal Army general named Mapache (Emilio Fernandez) who is being advised by emissaries of the German government (quick history lesson: in 1914 the First World War started, but before that the Germans had made preemptive plans to engage the Mexican Army if America entered the war—there’s a whole saga that played out in 1917, please look up the Zimmermann telegram if you want to learn more) to steal Army guns off a train, which they do quite cleverly. However, one of the “Wild Bunch”, Angel (Jaime Sanchez), is a member of one of the villages that Mapache has raped and pillaged and demands he be paid with a case of guns. When Mapache finds out Angel took the guns he takes him prisoner and tortures him. At first the outlaws do nothing, as Pike remarks that “$10,000 cuts an awful lot of family ties”, but eventually they decide that four men should take on an entire army.  You do the math…

The “Wild Bunch” are scumbags.  They kill innocent people and steal things that don’t belong to them.  They like to drink, screw, and joke around.  This is not the type of behavior that elicits sympathy from me when their way of life is threatened by cars and Gatling guns. The ambiguous villain seems to be Deke, but he’s nothing more than a mild annoyance and he most assuredly does not come off as “bad” man.  I suppose Mapache is pretty much a bastard, but no more than the “Wild Bunch” themselves.  As such, I cannot bring myself to root for or against anyone—they’re all low-life bastards who deserve to die.  Plus, there is truly no logically explanation as to why they decide to go on a suicide mission.  They had $10,000! And, for those who are going to say there’s honor among thieves, please remember that Pike shot one of his fellow outlaws because he was injured and couldn’t ride his horse.  Yes, Pike was old and decrepit and the outlaw life was waning, but Dutch (Ernest Borgnine), Lyle (Warren Oates), and Tector (Ben Johnson) still had a lot of years ahead of them, and $10,000 would have been a great way to start a new outlaw-free lifestyle. So, when that infamous last stand takes place I just sit and watch the revolutionary editing and think to myself: that’s sure a lot of blood and bullets.

The one thing that saves The Wild Bunch from my complete disdain is its technical elements.  Cinematographer Lucien Ballard had his hands full capturing Peckinpah’s wide-screen vision of the bloody shootouts, using up to six cameras at varying film rates all at once to capture the action.  Additionally, Ballard used telephoto lenses that brought the foreground and background into the same visual perspective.  All of Ballard’s camerawork, which was comprised of over 300,000 feet of film shot at varying speeds, was then spliced together by Lombardo and Peckinpah to create dazzling action sequences that could at one moment be a rapid-fire rampage and then the next a slow-motion symphony of destruction.  And, when you think about it, what do most people remember about The Wild Bunch—the famous Last Stand…and perhaps it’s theme song.

Overall, The Wild Bunch is a ferociously violent western that benefits from masterful editing and cinematography. However, the story is far from compelling and none of the characters are worth emotionally investing in.

In the Year of the Pig (1969) ***

No matter how hard you might try to avoid inserting bias into a documentary you almost always fail.  However, that does not disqualify your overarching aim. Such is the case with director Emile de Antonio’s Vietnam War documentary, In the Year of the Pig (1969). When it was initially released in 1968 the war had started to become increasingly unpopular in the United States, and the film only added to the growing anti-war sentiment. What I find most compelling about the documentary is the parallel ‘truths’ that de Antonio exposes. As a student of history, I know all too well that policy does not always conform to reality, and that is the overriding thesis of this timely documentary.

I use this film in my American History Since 1945 class to help students understand how we became involved in the Vietnam morass. By showing why the Vietnamese hated colonialism (thanks primarily to French greed and incompetence) de Antonio builds a platform from which to spring into the American ‘advising’ period, and from there, the Gulf of Tonkin mistruths used to expand American involvement in the country.  All the while, there is that insidious insinuation that the communist menace must be stopped in Vietnam or Eisenhower’s fears of the Domino Theory would come to fruition. For most students, this film cements what they’ve read in their textbooks about how democracy can’t be forced upon countries—especially through coercion, propaganda, fear, and, sadly, undemocratic means. 

Shot in black and white, the film uses snippets of news footage to visually identify the historical context.  While this is a useful tool, it would be worthless if de Antonio didn’t also use sound bytes from various political speeches—most notably from a whole assembly of men who would occupy the presidential wing of the White House. He plays their talking points against face-to-face interviews conducted with journalists, peace activists, and members of the intelligentsia. de Antonio cleverly edits back and forth between the irrational (and short-sided) policy-speak of the politicians and that of the rational analysis of those whose are not bound by a sworn hatred of objectivity. 

Of these interviews, my favorite is with Paul Mus—he was the perfect candidate to discuss Vietnam.  A French scholar who specialized in Far Eastern studies, he grew up in northern Vietnam and was an adviser to General Philippe Leclerc during the reconquest period. de Antonio found him at Yale University, where he was specializing in Buddhist studies.  Here was a man who knew the country—its history, culture, and people.  He’d also had personal discussions with Ho Chi Minh when he served as an adviser to Leclerc. You need only listen to him discuss the Vietnam question and its people and in a very concise nutshell he explains that no matter how long America remained in country that nothing would change—the Vietnamese had dealt with would-be conquerors for over a millennia, so they knew that patience was a virtue.

Overall, In the Year of the Pig is an insightful documentary about the Vietnam question. At times, it is a bit heavy-handed (especially when de Antonio uses American patriotic music ironically or shows American soldiers dead and injured on the battlefield).  Still, taken as a whole, I find it to be one of the most well-done and educational documentaries ever made about the Vietnam conflict. 

A Touch of Zen (Hsia Nu) 1969 **

The term wuxia is defined by the famous Chinese historian Sima Qian as: “honest in words, effective in action, faithful in keeping promises, fearless in offering one’s own life to free the righteous from bondage.” The wuxia warrior embodies all of these characteristics. It is the code by which they live.  Today, most film critics regard director King Hu as the pioneering figure in the wuxia film genre. While the genre itself predates King Hu’s first film by more than forty years, it was his visionary use of cinematography, choreography, and color that transformed the martial arts film industry. 

Of the seventeen films he directed, the best and most critically acclaimed is A Touch of Zen (Hsia Nu). Originally, the epic 200 minute film was broken into two parts. The first part was filmed in 1969 and released the following year, but eventually both parts of the film were seamlessly put together and released to the world in 1971. For his efforts, King Hu was awarded the Special Technical Award for Superior Technique at the 1975 Cannes Film Festival and the film itself was nominated for the Golden Palm—these honors also made A Touch of Zen the first Chinese film ever recognized by the Festival. 

Set during the early Ming Dynasty, the story’s heroine is Yang Hui Ching (Feng Hsu), the daughter of an official to the Emperor. When her father is murdered for trying to warn the Emperor about a corrupt eunuch named Wei, she must go on the run with General Shi (Pal Ying), a loyal aide of her father. They end up in an abandoned estate in a small town outside Peking.  They meet clumsy scholar Ku Sheng-chai (Shih Chun) and a romantic relationship eventually develops between the scholar and Yang. When her past comes calling, Yang and company must face off with East Chamber guards in the famous bamboo forest battle, the haunted estate sequence and the final showdown between Abbot Hui Yuan (Roy Chiao at his best) and Eunuch Wei’s chief commander Hsu Hsien-Chen(Han Ying-Chieh).

The cinematography of A Touch of Zen is primarily focused on capturing the serenity of nature and comes off as almost metaphysical in character. King Hu had a habit of setting his battle scenes in peaceful, picturesque locations.  The bamboo forest scene (which Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon borrowed heavily from) is ethereally shot, with mist lofting lazily by and an almost deafening stillness weighing down the swift battle scene.  There’s nothing like watching the fighters bouncing/gliding amongst the towering trees while they fight to the death. Hu also employs mist and eerie imagery when capturing the scenes at the haunted estate.

It is obvious that when Hu choreographed his fight sequences he had in mind what he’d seen at the Peking Opera. Everything is precisely orchestrated and flows seamlessly.  Again, the bamboo forest sequence shows Hu’s artistic vision, with the ensuing chase of the eunuch’s two guards through the forest.  Captured with both long and close shots, as well as with quick cuts, Hu sets a mesmerizing pace.  And, when Yang does her human ladder-climbing move off Ku it is sight to behold.  In addition, the final battle between Abbot Hui and Hsu is almost transcendental to watch—especially with the underlying Buddhist message that true enlightenment transcends even death.

A Touch of Zen is a film that has to be seen to be appreciated. If you are a fan of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or The House of Flying Daggers, then you should enjoy this film. Ang Lee has said that his main inspiration for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was this King Hu classic. However, be warned, it is long.  You might want to take a break after the bamboo forest sequence and then come back to it.  The first part of the film is much more character driven, while the second half of the film goes along at a much quicker pace and contains most of the fight scenes.  So if you want to call yourself a kung-fu or wuxia fan and still look at yourself in the mirror, then you must watch this film.