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A History Of Gun Violence | Viggo Mortensen arms himself with a big rifle and awesome facial hair in Appaloosa.

APPALOOSA
Directed by Ed Harris. Starring Ed Harris, Viggo Mortensen, Jeremy Irons, Renée Zellweger. Opens Fri, Oct 3.
****

Yep, I reckon Ed Harris has one mighty fine western movie on his hands, purtier’n a cactus rose at sunset and, of course, complete with all the requisite gunslinger speak.

Okay, so the “cactus rose” comparison is an exaggeration — it is a dirty, dusty western after all — but as far as westerns go it’s a beaut. After watching Appaloosa, it becomes apparent that Harris (who co-wrote, stars in, and directs the film) clearly misses the classic western; the ones where there are good guys, bad guys, and nothing in between except women causing trouble. He is guilty of taking the genre slightly over the top, but like musicals or action moves, the western is a genre that expects viewers to jump in with both feet. In this case, you’ll have to accept a lot of slow drawls and a few jangling spurs if you’re going to have fun visiting the town of Appaloosa.

But hold on to your six-shooter, ’cause Appaloosa is a place overrun by the lawless rancher Randall Braggs (Jeremy Irons) and his men. The cowardly, portly, dithering city councillor-types are at a loss, so they call in help in the form of the quick-drawing peacekeeping team of Virgil Cole (Ed Harris) and Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen). Cole is the lead man, who has a tendency to stumble over the tougher words in this tough talk, saying “jur-diction” instead of “jurisdiction.” Luckily, Hitch has got his back (and a larger vocabulary), so he can step in when Cole’s shooting blanks. After Braggs kills the last Marshall, and Virgil’s respected acquaintance, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

There is lots of macho circling between Braggs and Cole, and cold, detached looks — you cannot accuse Appaloosa of moving too fast or trying to pack too much plot in. That said, all that slow buildup and all that cowboy posturing is where most of the film’s tension comes from. All three fellas revel in carrying around rifles and acting cooler than an outhouse seat in January. When Irons’ sharp-dressing Braggs slips from Cole’s grasp (on one of many occasions), he gets to ride off with a “Told you you’d never hang me,” to which Harris calmly replies, “Never ain’t here yet.” I believe it’s entirely possible Harris made his movie simply so that he and a few other grown men could have an excuse to ride around on horses and drop lines like that one.

Harris doesn’t forget to hint at a moral, either. One could excavate an underlying statement from Appaloosa about the sometimes-incongruous relationship between morality and the law. So whether you’re there for the showdown or the social commentary, Appaloosa has a place for you in its one-saloon town. Just don’t cross Virgil Cole; he’s the fastest draw round them parts.