I'm not sure what else I was expecting when watching a western released in 1969 other than a bunch of old, white men trying their best. Trying their best to keep up with the changing landscape, trying their best to stay out of prison, and trying their best to make even a decently entertaining story. Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch is an incredibly dull western filled with performances that I could not even tell apart and a narrative so overused that I feel could have been given even a tad bit of effort. I understand the cultural context of the time and the fact that this is a higher-budget film than most others from that year, but that doesn't change that this film is the epitome of the reason why I can't tolerate this genre. And even better evidence as to why the target audience of this movie was straight, white men. And this is coming from a straight, white man (which we don't need any more of in Hollywood or else they'll keep pumping out movies like this).
Pike Bishop (William Holden) and Dutch Engstrom (Ernest Borgnine) are two criminals who lead a ragtag group of outlaws that call themselves The Wild Bunch. When this group of traditionalist cowboys decide to make one last big score, they must travel down to Mexico to pull it off. What they're faced with, however, is not just the Mexican town's evil general Mapache (Emilio Fernández), but having to face their own mortality while attempting to stay relevant. This undoubtedly seems like a fresh and interesting take on a story of this genre and it would have been if it weren't for the director's over-reliance on graphic violence. The main issue that makes this film so unbelievably dull is the fact that a good hour and a half was solely dedicated to gunfights and tumultuous action sequences. Perhaps people in this time period really were fed up with watching arthouse cinema and wanted nonstop blood and gore, but this movie sure suffered from that. If so many of these unnecessary scenes were taken out, the movie would have honestly been the length of a television pilot. Or better yet, these repetitive gunfights could have been replaced with genuine dialogue or exposition! I could not follow this story in the slightest because of the lack of basic storytelling and this was this movie's greatest issue. Despite one interestingly-choreographed action sequence on a moving train, I simply got lost in the endless sea of flying bullets and oozing blood.
Luckily, the director of this film even recognized his faults during an interview which I have recently seen. While Sam Peckinpah's cathartic use of violence was criticized by many, he even admits that he was wrong to include such graphic scenes. It's nice to see a director realize his own issues and own up to the faults that come with it, but that still does not change the narrative at all. The performances in this film were decent but I could not actually tell you who is who. This enormous cast of characters all fit into the same old, white man category and after the film's grueling 2 hour and 25-minute runtime, I could not tell them apart for the life of me. Thankfully, it really doesn't matter because they all ended up dead in the resolution regardless of the fact that the writing never bothered to make me care about them in the first place. They entered the narrative as motivationless criminals and died that way as well. One of the most apparent issues that I have with this genre is the fact that the writing always seems forced. Walon Green and Peckinpah's script is very weak and is painfully visible in many of the film's attempted narrative development scenes. There were multiple instances in which a character had to (out of nowhere) start his own conversation in order to spew out any kind of information to further the story. The dialogue and writing between this whole cast of characters were so weak as their personalities seemed to blend into one. Lou Lombardo's editing is actually the one redeeming aspect of this film. Even though it was only stylized the way it was to serve the function of the mundane action, it was mildly exciting and reminiscent of the way every action movie nowadays is cut.
The Wild Bunch only adds fuel to my fiery argument that 1969 was the weirdest and most bewildering year for the study of film history. I completely understand the reasons why this film has become such a "classic"; I mean, who doesn't love racial typecasting and mindless gunfights? I just can not understand why people hail this film so much when it clearly hasn't aged well at all.
My Rating: ★★
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