Sam Peckinpah (1925-1984) was a Hollywood writer and director who lived a glamorous and traumatic life. He grew up in in the shadow of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, served in World War II, and started his entertainment career as a writer in the first Golden Age of Television. Transitioning from the studio era to the New Hollywood of the 1960s and '70s, Peckinpah often battled with producers and executives who didn't understand his non-conformist vision. A hard drinker and womanizer, Peckinpah had a combative reputation as legendary as his films. His creative output, however, still lingers in our cultural archive. He was the director of 14 feature films, all of which display cinematic innovation and insight into human struggles and moral dilemmas. His films are American stories about American characters. They uncover truths about our identities and failures, and reward the audience upon repeat viewings.
His exquisitely composed shots were edited with crashing speed to create a new cinematic language that remains influential to this day. He was a new Hitchcock for the new generation, crafting suspenseful thrillers that portrayed sex and violence with all its disgusting consequences. All his films feature intriguing characters with deep backstories. All his films feature layered performances on top of audio complexity. He was a man who burned out as hard as the 1960s idealism; both were obsolete by the dawn of the 1980s.
Sam Peckinpah's most recognized film is 1969's "The Wild Bunch." That film's themes of loyalty and redemption are repeated and re-examined in all his movies. His best are more artistically ambitious than almost every feature released today.
He made mature films for grown-up audiences, featuring deep dark themes examining human nature. How many filmmakers can say this today? His characters are real people, not super heroes or space travelers. He aimed high and sometimes missed. He angered many audiences and reviewers. But he kept exploring, pushing, provoking. His movies are not for the faint of heart, yet they are mesmerizing.
Here is a closer look at some of his greatest:
Ride the High Country (1962)
A story of two aging outlaws who don't adapt to the not-so-wild west, "Ride the High Country" is a quintessential Sam Peckinpah movie about the death of the American West. In the late 19th Century, after the Gold Rush, California was a tame frontier. The Railroad, Capitalism, law and order, and people continued to arrive in bunches. For some outliers, this was not welcome. "Ride the High Country" is a tale of two such partners - played by two aging Hollywood stars: Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott.
Having grown up in the High Sierras of Northern California, Sam Peckinpah witnessed the end of the West firsthand. His ancestors lived free in the great wide open. He saw ranches sold, nature tamed, and tough men struggling to change to a more civilized world. All these themes come to light as the plot follows former outlaw Steve Judd (McCrea) seeking redemption by accepting a "day job" from a bank to transport gold. He recruits his friend (the aptly named Gil Westrum, played by Scott) on a journey that tests their friendship and challenges their values of old west versus new.
"All I want is to enter my house justified." So says Judd
near the end of his journey. Westrum, on the other hand, knows how and
when to bend the rules. Unlike Judd, he has no illusions of redemption. In a physical, mental, and ethical battle, the two men face their fate in a last chance effort to find value in a valueless world. The final gunfight is exquisitely framed, shot and edited in a rapid, unconventional approach that Sam Peckinpah would perfect in later films.
After several years writing and directing Westerns for television, Peckinpah transitioned to feature films in the early 1960s. "Ride the High Country" is his second feature, and was recognized for its unique, philosophical perspective in a genre that was slowly growing stale. The gorgeous on-location cinematography by Lucien Ballard showcases both the light and shadows of these characters' moral dilemmas. The film is loaded with outstanding supporting characters brought to life by frequent Peckinpah collaborators including the legendary Warren Oates and L.Q. Jones. All characters have the luxury of speaking authentic Western dialogue that was a hallmark of any Peckinpah production. "Ride the High Country" is a perfect cinematic metaphor to transition from the safe, idealized Westerns of the 1950s into the brave new world of 1960s counterculture.
The Wild Bunch (1969)
"If they move, kill 'em." The opening line to Sam Peckinpah's signature film. It set the tone for this epic, and for the many cinematic innovations it was about to unleash. Released on June 18, 1969, "The Wild Bunch" remains one of the most influential films of all time. It is also one of the most controversial. This tale of morally ambiguous antiheroes engaged in stylized violence was not a success upon initial release. Yet it built a loyal following with critics and filmmakers. It improves with subsequent viewings and has aged very well over the past 50 years. I speak from my own experience that it took me multiple viewings over many years of my own maturity to appreciate the film's complex themes. Now, I don't just admire it - I would name it one of my all-time favorites.
The conventional wisdom of the Western is they are American allegories. But what makes "The Wild Bunch" so unique is that the story transcends the American West and becomes an insightful depiction of human nature. It is a timeless political fable of the consequences of war, and the loyalties and betrayals of men. All told with beautiful compositions and edited in a groundbreaking style. It is truly a work of art. Not surprisingly, "The Wild Bunch" is often called cinema's Moby-Dick.
The movie opens with a symbolic sequence of children gathered around a scorpion on top of an anthill. Audiences immediately realize this is not a typical John Wayne picture. Simultaneously, the gang of aging outlaws arrive in town, commit a robbery, and embark on a bloody shootout that was longer, louder and bloodier than any in cinematic history. Peckinpah's use of slow motion, alternate angles, and rapid cutting builds a brilliant sequence that directors have been imitating ever since.
The difference, however, is Peckinpah's deep dive into the characters. The Bunch are introduced and the viewer learns of their attempts at a moral code. The gang is led by Pike Bishop, played by William Holden in one of his last great performances. His world-weariness echoed the performer's real life struggles, whose Hollywood golden-boy days had abruptly passed. The Bunch's second in command is Dutch played by the inimitable Ernest Borgnine. Both actors were previous Oscar-winners, yet their work here is possibly their career pinnacle. Rounding out the Bunch are the film's tragic, sacrificial lamb character Angel, played by Jaime Sánchez, and the depraved and demented Gorch Brothers played by Ben Johnson and frequent Peckinpah collaborator Warren Oates. These characters are all faced with multiple decisions that question their values. Do they stay together and finish one last score? Do they help a friend who knowingly chose his own foolish fate? Do they take a stand for justice despite overwhelming odds?
The film covers many themes including the idea that "we all dream of being a child again. Even the worst of us." The recurring motif of children witnessing violence illustrates our collective history of murder, robbery and revenge. Similar to other Peckinpah films with religious overtones, this has the subtextual theme of "For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?" Pike Bishop wonders this; yet is it too late to change? This film explores the frailties of friendship. Not only is Pike's relationship with the bunch tested, but we learn of his past history to the bounty hunter Deke Thornton, played with equal weariness by the never-better Robert Ryan.
These are 19th Century Men at the dawn of the era of airplanes, automobiles, and machine guns. Rough, violent, scarred men who cannot be tamed by the 20th Century - yet struggling and failing to do the right thing. It's a parallel to Peckinpah's own life as well as his style of Hollywood filmmaking. The adult action movie with provocative themes, filmed on location with practical effects (actual bridges exploding!) would soon become as obsolete as the characters.
Very few films come close to this richness of psychological insight and creative filmmaking technique. The movie has influenced everything from the literature of Cormac McCarthy to the music of Jack White to the television series "Breaking Bad" to the films of Michael Mann, Edgar Wright, and Quentin Tarantino. In 1999 "The Wild Bunch's" place in history was secured when it was selected to the Library of Congress National Film Archive.
The film ends with the quote "It ain't like it used to be, but it'll do." An optimistic elegy that reflects Peckinpah's view on America and Hollywood at the end of the 1960s.
The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)
Released less than a year after "The Wild Bunch," this is Peckinpah's most complete work. It is a biblical allegory about a man finding his American Dream in the middle of the desert, just before progress brings an end to it all. It is very reminiscent of Paul Thomas Anderson's "There Will Be Blood," which no doubt took influence from this story about one man's discovery of water in the desert.
"I'm halfway to Hell and I'm looking for help," says Cable Hogue in an exceptional performance by Jason Robards. It is his story of redemption that carries the picture, with Robards's characterization fully-realized and tragically poignant. The story covers many of the essential Peckinpah themes: nature vs. commerce, the death of the west, religion, progress, and one man's search for salvation.
Left for dead in the desert, Cable Hogue stumbles onto an oasis and builds a lucrative stop on the wagon trail heading West. When Cable meets the captivating Hildy (Stella Stevens) he must choose between his lonely, profitable life in the desert, or moving to the city with the woman he loves. A decision not as easy as it appears. Obsessed with vengeance and proving himself, Cable's journey as the American Adam is both unexpected and unavoidable. "Well I'm worth something, Ain't I?" Cable asks mid-way through the film, reflecting Peckinpah's belief in the indomitable human spirit.
This film is once again gorgeously photographed on-location by Lucien Ballard, and once again breaks convention with traditional westerns. This tone is comedic, romantic, and even musical - with the characters singing a love song in the midst of the story. Stella Stevens's Hildy is a vulnerable, moving portrait of feminine power. Cable's world cannot function without her; yet she alone is best equipped to handle the oncoming force of the Twentieth Century.
Ultimately, "The Ballad of Cable Hogue" is a tale about the individual and the dissolution of the American Dream. It all comes to a poetic climax in the film's final scene, showing the convergence of progress, religion, nature and death in a very Peckinpah-esque comment on our culture and history. The final shot may be the only movie I've seen featuring a stagecoach and automobile in the same frame - the perfect symbol for a Peckinpah picture.
This has always been an underrated film, and it's availability now on DVD, Blu-ray and streaming makes it essential viewing.
Straw Dogs (1971)
"Straw Dogs" is Sam Peckinpah's most misunderstood movie. A tense, psychological picture about the consequences of violence, it is also the story of a failed marriage. Although the film is set in rural England, this disturbing, controversial film is a universal tale of human nature. Starring Dustin Hoffman in a brave, dark role, and the amazing Susan George as his traumatized wife, "Straw Dogs" continues to startle and provoke contemporary audiences and critics.
Hoffman plays David, an American intellectual who moves to a rural English farmhouse in his wife's home village. He's looking for peace and quiet to write a book on mathematics, but he also hints at escaping the social turmoil of late '60s America. His wife Amy has an equally mysterious backstory with the town, including a former love affair with the working-class Charlie Venner. The locals resent David's elitist arrogance, while simultaneously lusting after Amy.
Both tensions escalate when David is invited on a hunting expedition while Amy is left home alone. What follows is a brutal, shocking rape sequence that is every bit as controversial today as it was in 1971.
Peckinpah was often criticized as misogynist or even reactionary. He was actually a liberal Democratic supporter who despised Richard Nixon. Although his films are exclusively male-centric, it is the female characters that prove to be the shining lights, the role models, and even the adults. In "Straw Dogs" Amy is the protagonist, and all the men -- including Hoffman's David -- are the villains. Peckinpah said so himself in multiple letters in response to the film's negative criticism.
We the audience feel Amy's suffering. The rape scene is filmed through Amy point-of-view; one of the few times that technique is employed in any Peckinpah film. The scene's blocking and compositions emphasize Amy's agony, showing her loss and devastation. The editing style, with flashes to her husband, link David as a co-accomplice in the attack. His neglect and emotional abuse are just as responsible as her actual assailant.
The movie belongs to Amy, as she quietly absorbs the trauma. For the remainder of the film, she is the character who dramatically changes. At first she is powerless, reflecting the role of many women at that time in history. Yet by the end, she grows into a character who is strong, fearless, defiant, and ultimately vengeful.
The movie's climax involves one of the most tense, stressful sequences in film history. After a series of events following the rape (which Amy never reveals to David), the townsfolk surround the farmhouse and begin an aggressive, violent siege. Many viewers focus on Hoffman's transformation from intellectual pacifist to homestead defender -- but is he?
David fights but he's fighting for his own selfish survival. It was always there from the beginning, and he is not responding to Amy's assault. He shows little concern for her safety; he even subjects her to greater risk by provoking the attackers. By the end, David never even shoots a gun. It is Amy who fires the final shot to end the siege.
"Straw Dogs" is a complex, unsettling film. It needs to be seen by a mature audience, more than once to be fully understood. Some will see it as a masterpiece, others will find it revolting, but it is truly a work of art.
The movie is filmed
and edited with taut precision. Peckinpah was working at the top of his
game, and every composition has multiple layers. The film is loaded
with symbolic images, and the authentic dialogue adds depth to each characterization.
It is available on a deluxe Criterion Collection Blu-ray or DVD loaded with bonus features, and an insightful audio commentary that discusses the themes and controversies. "Straw Dogs" is Sam Peckinpah's only movie thus far given that royal honor from Criterion. It is an important, significant film worth seeing and debating.
Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)
With one of the best titles in cinema history, "Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia" is Sam Peckinpah's last great masterpiece. It is an examination of a wasted life, featuring the themes of grief, rage and revenge. This brutal vision of self-destruction eerily foreshadowed the director's own personal and creative demise. He went on to direct only four more feature films, and none were as daring or personal as this one.
The film stars Warren Oates, in an excellent, yet all-too-rare leading-man role. He plays Benny, a man whose quest for fortune leads him on a downward spiral to his own destruction. In many ways the protagonist is a surrogate for Peckinpah himself. Similar to Pike Bishop in "The Wild Bunch" - he even looks like the director. Once again the biblical quote casts a shadow over this story: "For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?"
The setting is a rare present-day world for a Peckinpah film, yet the ageless past looms in every corner. It's essentially a Western, played out in the disillusioned Watergate era of 1970s Mexico. Benny is an expatriate that finally found love but wants more. When he hears of a chance to score big, he sets off on a journey where he must confront shady businessmen, honorable families, and corrupt Latin American politicians. He needs proof of "Al's" death so he must steal the head of the late Alfredo Garcia.
When tragedy strikes, Benny's mission becomes more than money -- he wants revenge. This is not the typical action-hero revenge flick of the 1980s, where Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger embark on an honorable, glorious revenge mission. It is Peckinpah's world, where revenge comes with a price; vengeance is dangerous and obsessive. The mission doesn't end with revenge; vengeance requires redemption.
This is dark, philosophical material - ideas seldom conveyed in a Hollywood picture. It's a tough film; at times not easy to watch. Not because of the violence or gore, but because we see Benny sliding down into a phantasmagoric nightmare. His rush to redemption becomes a hallucinatory journey into a wasted life. It's not pretty, but Warren Oates's characterization is incredibly compelling. His Bogart-esque vulnerability is a brilliant piece of screen acting. If you've ever admired his fantastic supporting turns, and longed for a meatier role, this is the film to watch.
As usual, several of the climactic scenes are expertly staged, shot and edited. Peckinpah's painterly compositions explode with kinetic editing that keeps the action shocking. As Benny's crisp white suit gets blacker and filthier, the movie slides from romance to tragedy. Will Benny finally do what's right and get away clean? Can anyone? It's fascinating to see these ideas from post-1960s idealism and 1970s distrust presented in a major Hollywood release. This film is not escapism. It's a provocative challenge for the adventurous viewer.
It's easy to see the parallels in Peckinpah's own life. His uncompromising battles with producers and executives cost him professionally; his battles with alcohol cost him personally. "Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia" is a film about self-destruction. Where the road to good intentions leads straight through hell.
