Chuy Medina (Saxon) and his thugs steal the Appaloosa belonging to Brando. Brando chases them across the border into Mexico and after many tribulations brings back both the horse and Anjanette Comer.
Somebody in movies like this is always racing across the border to escape justice or wreak revenge or retrieve a stolen horse or something. Mexico is "the other". It's usually "bad" in the way that California is a pipe dream of paradise. Both honor and treachery rule in Mexico. It's a Hobbesian universe. "No arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death: and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short." Brando's compadre advises him, "Trust no one in Mexico, Matteo." Brando can trust Anjanette Comer, though. She's truthful and entirely candid. Not that she looks anything like a Mexican woman though. She's groomed like a Hollywood actress playing a Mexican woman.
That's the responsibility of Bud Westmore, who was in charge of make ups. He must have been asleep at the wheel. A hard-working rancher's wife is given a close up of her fingers fondling a crucifix, and her fingers are immaculate and her nails perfectly trimmed and polished. She could perform surgery without gloves.
Westmore has also thoughtfully seen to it that the principal actors, the ones not wearing raggedy beards, have cheeks and chins as smoothly shaven as Anjanette Comer's, even if they've been recovering from scorpion venom. That would be Brando. He's been stung by a scorpion from Durango after losing an arm-wrestling contest with Saxon. (John Wayne could never have played this role because John Wayne couldn't possibly lose an arm-wrestling contest.) Actually, Durango is noted for its scorpions. They're not even called escorpio, at least not according to my Durango informant. They have a special name, alacran, and the people of Durango are generally known as Alacran de Durango.
This was directed by Sidney J. Furie, who must be phobic for traditional movie shots. There are no more long shots than are absolutely essential to an understanding of the plot. Medium shots are invariably broken by objects in the foreground -- pillars, posts, pitchers, and in one scene all five of Marlon Brando's fingers block most of the camera's view. The close up are really CLOSE ups. A typical reverse angle shot, involving, say, two people conversing at a table will alternate chokers in which we see a person's features from his eyebrows to his lower lip. More than once, we see only a single eyeball. But there are plenty of teeth that are not just white but blindingly so, like arc lights, cleaned, polished, buffed, and in those dark, scarred faces they glow with an inner luminescence.
Other director's tics: When people drink or eat, whatever they are drinking or eating tends to dribbled down their chins onto their clothing or gets clotted in their facial hair. A very artistic shot of Anjanette Comer's incandescent incisors squishing on a wedge of lime after a shot of tequila. And when someone walks, we don't see them walk. We see their jangling spurred boots moving step by step through the dust or snow.
I don't know how much it cost to hire Marlon Brando for this Mexican adventure but he didn't put an equivalent amount of effort into the role. There was a time (and there would be a time again later) when he invested his roles with intelligence and energy, but by 1966 he seemed to be sleepwalking, tired, bored, resigned -- just another actor. Comer is miscast. She seems city bred. John Saxon does surprisingly well by the role of the local strong man. And Alex Montoya is given a novel touch of humanity -- shot full of holes by Brando, he looks agonized and cries, "Senor!", before collapsing.
Nice location photography and a potentially interesting story, mostly ruined by superheated direction and a flat performance by the star.
Somebody in movies like this is always racing across the border to escape justice or wreak revenge or retrieve a stolen horse or something. Mexico is "the other". It's usually "bad" in the way that California is a pipe dream of paradise. Both honor and treachery rule in Mexico. It's a Hobbesian universe. "No arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death: and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short." Brando's compadre advises him, "Trust no one in Mexico, Matteo." Brando can trust Anjanette Comer, though. She's truthful and entirely candid. Not that she looks anything like a Mexican woman though. She's groomed like a Hollywood actress playing a Mexican woman.
That's the responsibility of Bud Westmore, who was in charge of make ups. He must have been asleep at the wheel. A hard-working rancher's wife is given a close up of her fingers fondling a crucifix, and her fingers are immaculate and her nails perfectly trimmed and polished. She could perform surgery without gloves.
Westmore has also thoughtfully seen to it that the principal actors, the ones not wearing raggedy beards, have cheeks and chins as smoothly shaven as Anjanette Comer's, even if they've been recovering from scorpion venom. That would be Brando. He's been stung by a scorpion from Durango after losing an arm-wrestling contest with Saxon. (John Wayne could never have played this role because John Wayne couldn't possibly lose an arm-wrestling contest.) Actually, Durango is noted for its scorpions. They're not even called escorpio, at least not according to my Durango informant. They have a special name, alacran, and the people of Durango are generally known as Alacran de Durango.
This was directed by Sidney J. Furie, who must be phobic for traditional movie shots. There are no more long shots than are absolutely essential to an understanding of the plot. Medium shots are invariably broken by objects in the foreground -- pillars, posts, pitchers, and in one scene all five of Marlon Brando's fingers block most of the camera's view. The close up are really CLOSE ups. A typical reverse angle shot, involving, say, two people conversing at a table will alternate chokers in which we see a person's features from his eyebrows to his lower lip. More than once, we see only a single eyeball. But there are plenty of teeth that are not just white but blindingly so, like arc lights, cleaned, polished, buffed, and in those dark, scarred faces they glow with an inner luminescence.
Other director's tics: When people drink or eat, whatever they are drinking or eating tends to dribbled down their chins onto their clothing or gets clotted in their facial hair. A very artistic shot of Anjanette Comer's incandescent incisors squishing on a wedge of lime after a shot of tequila. And when someone walks, we don't see them walk. We see their jangling spurred boots moving step by step through the dust or snow.
I don't know how much it cost to hire Marlon Brando for this Mexican adventure but he didn't put an equivalent amount of effort into the role. There was a time (and there would be a time again later) when he invested his roles with intelligence and energy, but by 1966 he seemed to be sleepwalking, tired, bored, resigned -- just another actor. Comer is miscast. She seems city bred. John Saxon does surprisingly well by the role of the local strong man. And Alex Montoya is given a novel touch of humanity -- shot full of holes by Brando, he looks agonized and cries, "Senor!", before collapsing.
Nice location photography and a potentially interesting story, mostly ruined by superheated direction and a flat performance by the star.