Appaloosa
Ed Harris’s beautifully made and thoroughly entertaining Western deserved to do bigger business, but its quick exit from theaters is no surprise. It’s old-fashioned, and the violence is realistic — quick and ugly and decisive. It’s grittier and more austere than James Mangold’s popular “3:10 to Yuma” remake, with its outre clothes and stylized gunplay. And “Appaloosa” lacks “Yuma’s” psychological hooey, instead developing an honest relationship between roving lawmen Virgil Cole (Harris) and Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen). These actors are simpatico: devoid of vanity, taciturn yet emotionally aware. For the villain, Harris shrewdly casts Jeremy Irons, an Englishman with a showman’s instinct. Irons has an iconic moment at the beginning, when he strolls out of his house, coolly guns down a sheriff and his two deputies and saunters back inside. His languid stride will give you chills.
There’s one weak link in “Appaloosa,” and sadly, it’s a major one: Renee Zellweger’s dreadful performance as Allison French, a conniving widow. She’s the linchpin of the story, but the casting makes Virgil’s attraction to her beyond inexplicable. I feel sorry for Harris; for all I know, she was foisted upon him by New Line Cinema. (I’m convinced Zellweger has dirt on every exec in Hollywood.) How could such an uncompromising director not notice her amateurish bumbling? Everyone else is acting; Zellweger is playing dress-up. She’s overbroad and tone-deaf. Virgil explains the source of his interest in Allison — in his line of work, the only unmarried women he comes across are prostitutes. Yet as Everett’s hooker girlfriend, Katie, Ariadna Gil is a pro in every sense — smart and sexy and in tune emotionally with those around her. Thanks to Zellweger, Everett’s willingness to sacrifice his relationship with Katie for the sake of Virgil’s future with Allison is an even more profound act of friendship than it’s meant to be.
Nonetheless, “Appaloosa” comes together gracefully — Harris really must be a good director. Adapted by Harris and Robert Knott from a novel by the old warhorse Robert Parker, it’s a well-told tale, and Harris’ widescreen images tap into the primal appeal of the Western genre. You feel the craggy beauty and hair-trigger fragility of frontier life.