Western Vengeance

Maybe it’s the move to a “cowboy town,” but I seem to have gotten on a Western kick without really knowing it, as the last two pop culture items I’ve consumed turned out to be violent modern-day Western stories.


No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy. McCarthy is slowly becoming one of my favorite writers. In the past few months, I read his first book (All the Pretty Horses) and his last (The Road, an amazing novel which I have yet to write about here—I’ll wait until I buy the paperback). Both very enjoyable books for different reasons, so when I saw Old Men at the Strand, I decided it was time to start filling in the gaps of McCarthy’s body of work. Old Men takes place along the Mexican border, as do most of McCarthy’s books. It begins with a drug deal gone bad and the theft of a suitcase full of money, the pursuit of which leads to a spiral of violence on par with The Departed or any Tarantino movie of your choice. But unlike those and most other bloody Hollywood films, in McCarthy’s work, the violence never feels gratuitous—just a fact of life for the paths his characters have chosen. As always, his terse prose lends itself well to the urgency of the situation the characters find themselves in, and he avoids the temptation to take the easy way out, going with the inevitable ending rather than a happy one. I was a little less absorbed by this novel than the first two novels I read, but it was easily good enough that I’ll continue reading the rest of his works.

Down in the Valley. I have to admit, I struggled with this one a little bit. If you’re a Netflix member, you’ll recognize this scenario. A movie arrives and sits by your TV gathering dust for a few weeks because you never feel like you’re in the right mood to watch it. That’s been the case with Valley for me, so finally, I decided this weekend I would either have to watch it or send it back. Yesterday I popped it in and was surprised at what I found. First surprise: It takes place in modern-day California. Given all the cowboy imagery associated with the marketing, I was expecting a period piece. Second surprise: I should listen to my gut. Although there were some strong performances, Down in the Valley is a pretty mediocre movie. No wonder I was in no rush to watch it.

Ed Norton (who I almost always enjoy, and still did somewhat in this film) plays a cowboy who drifts into an unnamed Valley town and begins an affair with Evan Rachel Wood’s teenaged ingenue. Norton begins to insinuate himself into her family, befriending Wood’s younger brother (Rory Culkin) over the objections of their father, a conflicted corrections officer who is struggling to maintain control of his children (David Morse). Despite the modern setting, all the standard Western archetypes are there: The mysterious drifter, the sheriff, the young boy who looks up to the stranger, the girl who falls for him. But Valley gives these archetypes a good twist, and no one is quite what they seem in this film. Tempers flare, events spiral out of control, someone gets shot, and the film culminates in a bloody running gunfight to rival the best Peckinpah western. All that’s missing is an Ennio Morricone score. Norton and David Morse both played their parts well, and Wood showed that Thirteen was no fluke—she’s an acting force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, I felt like the film’s payoff was hollow, and Rory Culkin’s lack of any ability to show emotion hurt some of the key moments. I only wish I hadn’t waited so long to find this out. I could have watched five more enjoyable movies by now.