Plot. The plot of the movie bears a strong resemblance to Shane, as a lone gunman (Sam Elliott) befriends a small family of settlers threatened by a gang of nasty men. The family is traveling across Wyoming in a lone covered wagon. Elliott, playing half-breed Con Vallian, joins them as a self-appointed protector.
Running through this story of decent folks pursued by bad men, is a simmering love triangle. The husband (Tom Conti) becomes aware that Elliott is quietly putting the moves on his wife (Kate Capshaw). Meanwhile, Capshaw is more than a little interested in returning his interest.
Conti turns out to be a Civil War veteran, whose experience on the battlefield has made a pacifist of him. He’s vowed never to take the life of another man. But it’s a lawless land in the West, and under Elliott’s influence, his wife parts company with him on this issue and takes up rifle practice. “We have no choice,” she says. “I have no choice.”
|Kate Capshaw, 1984 (CC) Towpilot|
Women. Out here, we are made to understand, a woman is never safe from a fate worse than death and needs the protection that only guns can provide. While Conti is already “tough as a nail” according to his young son, he is forced to accept this point of view as well. Not only does at least one openly craven member of the villainous gang have rape in mind. There is a fox in the henhouse in the form of Elliott.
Tables turn when Elliott’s character is ambushed and takes a slug. Conti confidently removes it with a bowie knife, and cauterizes the wound with a hot poker. Conti and Capshaw then become his protectors, and Elliott survives, but only just.
Playing nurse to him, Capshaw listens as Elliott explains how he has “a lot of feelings” for her but finally has chosen to consider the feelings of others. He won’t try to take her from her husband and son. “You are a real gentleman,” she says and kisses him on the cheek. Thus the film instructs us is the way sexual urges are civilized, and the world is made safer for women—and their husbands.
Meanwhile, through a process of attrition, the eight men in the gang are whittled down to three. When these show up at the family’s cabin, each is shot dead by Capshaw, Conti, and Elliott in turn. When it’s over, husband and wife stand side by side, weapons in hand, as Elliott says, “Damn, you folks are quick.”
Fully recovered, Elliott’s Con Vallian makes his exit. He and Conti part amicably—after Conti punches him—and Conti says, “There’s a kindness in you, Vallian. That’s what I’ll miss.” It’s another way of calling him a gentleman.
Like Shane’s departure from another homestead in Wyoming, Con Vallian remains an enigma. His last words are with Kate Capshaw, and the longing in her eyes is undisguised. “Wild things gotta be free,” he tells her and rides off, the lone drifter again.
Elliot, more than most cowboy actors, captures that particular type of male Owen Wister first found in his Virginian. With a three-day growth of beard and his trademark mustache, he’s a gentleman in the rough.
Self-reliant, independent, unafraid, he uses the physical strength that comes with his gender to protect good, decent folks—and win the hearts of women. Yet truer to type than the Virginian, who marries and settles down, Elliott’s Con Vallian rides off alone, our last image of him a small figure disappearing on the horizon.
Myth. The drawback is for folks who take a film like this as a true portrayal of American history. Though there’s been an effort to dress the cast in period costumes, it’s still nine-tenths romance.
For starters, in a study of homesteaders to be found in frontier photography, you’d be hard pressed to find faces with Kate Capshaw’s movie-star looks. With her unblemished skin and flowing blonde hair, she might have been found at a gathering among the social elite in Newport, but not out here in the wild.
Instead of Conti’s well-groomed and clean-shaven appearance, you would find men with long unkempt beards, greasy hair, and shapeless, soiled clothes. As for Elliott’s “gentleman” living rough in the wild, he would probably have smelled strong enough to squelch most any curious woman’s interest in intimacy.
For the very reason that the frontier offered any number of perils, settlers would seldom have traveled alone as the family in this film does. Meanwhile, they would probably not have encountered only gangs of evil men and wild Indians, who seem to be the sole inhabitants of Wyoming.
The setting of the film is also mythical. It was shot in Arizona, near Flagstaff and Sedona, which makes for lovely scenery, and snowfall during the shooting of some scenes transforms the landscape beautifully. But Arizona does not look like the stark, open, wind-swept prairie of Wyoming.
When they finally arrive at their cabin and Capshaw says to Conti, “I think we can make a good life out here,” you have to wonder if she’s in her right mind. They are like a modern-day couple lifted out of suburban comfort and deposited in the middle of nowhere. What could she be thinking?
The effect of a western like this is to reinforce notions in its audience that they are living in a lawless world themselves, where firearms are needed daily for self protection. Unlike the book and film Shane, where there is a community of settlers standing together against a greedy rancher, the couple in this film is alone, always vulnerable to robbery, rape, and murder.
The film may be 100% faithful to L’Amour’s novel. However, it should be noted that the script writer, James Lee Barrett, also has the writing credit for The Green Berets (1968), John Wayne’s Vietnam-era war film. There’s a battlefield tone to the survivalist sentiments that Elliott expresses.
“Have you actually ever done a day’s work in your life?” Conti asks, as Elliott stands watching him chop down a tree. “I’ve worked hard every day of my life, Mister,” Elliott says. “Stayin’ alive.” Another time, he says, “Out here we just kill what we need to live,” referring to a deer he’s shot, but not excluding humans.
Wrapping up. When all’s said, the film is still a darn good western. The performances and direction are all excellent. The photography nicely captures the western settings, and there’s effective use of close-up shots to bring you in close to the characters. The music is also well restrained and evocative. For Sam Elliott fans, it is a must-see.
The Quick and the Dead is not to be confused with a similarly-named Sharon Stone film of dubious merit released in 1995. If you order it up from netflix or amazon, make sure you’ve got the right one. Note that the 2010 release on DVD is in splendid widescreen, with an informative commentary by director Robert Day.
Overlooked Movies is a much-appreciated enterprise of Todd Mason over at Sweet Freedom.
Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Coming up: Adrian Louis, Skins