Thursday, August 14, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Film: Old timing

Open Range is a slow, quiet Western by and for the old coot crowd

By Anthony Allison

The last film Kevin Costner directed about a hard-bitten hero righting wrongs in the Wild West wasn't that overhyped tripe about prancing with lupine beasts. It was a beastly bomb about a post-Apocalyptic cowboy type who steals a dead mailman's uniform.

Robert Duvall's most recent role wasn't his scene steal in A Civil Action, but a self-indulgent piece of whimsy about a terpsichorean-crazed killer. And Annette Bening's last film wasn't American Beauty, but a "comedy" that had everybody but rabid Garry Shandling fans wondering what planet these Hollywood folks come from.

Yet this illustrious trio--whose average age is an AARP-worthy 55--are seasoned veterans capable of much better work than The Postman, Assassination Tango and What Planet Are You From? And they prove it with Open Range--a surprisingly calm, quiet drama that'll bore impatient youngsters but should satisfy older, more discriminating movie varmints.

Adapted by first-time screenwriter Craig Storper from Lauran Paine's pulp novel The Open Range Men, Costner's latest directorial effort has a predictably pulpy plot: Ex-gunslinger Costner and grizzled cowpoke Duvall fight ruthless rancher Michael Gambon (Gosford Park) after his men attack our heroes' cattle-driving pardners (Abraham Benrubi from "E.R." and Y Tu Mamá También's Diego Luna).

It takes true talent to perform the Western clichés--sliding a shot glass along a bar top, growling "It sticks in my craw,"--without slipping into risible, Blazing Saddles caricature. Duvall pulls it off magnificently. "What'd you think of my speech in there?" he asks Costner after a tense encounter with corrupt marshal James Russo (The Postman). "Liked it," is all his awestruck director can mumble.

Bening nearly manages the trickier task of making her character a credibly fearless frontier dame--though even she can't do much with the ludicrous moment when she interrupts the climactic gunfight to slap the bad guy's face. Judging by this unconvincing, messy and borderline farcical showdown (High Noon it ain't), big action setpieces are not Costner's forte. He's also inordinately fond of crowd-pleasing shots of cute dogs and lush prairies full of wildflowers. Still, when he and Duvall get together, you can forgive Costner for wearing his heart so prominently on his sleeve, reveling in the majestic scenery (of the Canadian Rockies, near Calgary, Alberta) and the noble French horns of Michael Kamen's score.

Ever since Heaven's Gate bankrupted United Artists--and with Silverado, Dances with Wolves, Unforgiven and Tombstone as exceptions proving the rule--Hollywood studios have wisely shied away from Westerns. So kudos to Costner for sticking to his guns and, moreover, for having the maturity, self-confidence and respect to let his charismatic costar totally upstage him. Duvall's mere presence makes this one more than merely mundane.