Oh Those Cowboy Emotions, Suppressed of Course

Ed Harris’s second directorial turn, "Appaloosa" (and first since 2000’s "Pollock"), opens with a brief voiceover narration by gunman Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen). In a dry, emotionless delivery, he describes his peripatetic existence as a search for a place where "the soul can expand."

 In a Western that unfolds at a leisurely pace over nearly two hours, with few words spoken — many, unfortunately, in gravelly, barely audible voices — and only brief bursts of action, there is plenty of time and little else to concentrate on besides expanding souls. 

 If that sounds like a recipe for a baleful experience, it isn’t, because those souls are tethered to two of the most incredible faces ever to occupy the silver screen, those of Mortensen and Harris himself, who plays Hitch’s boss, lawman-for-hire Virgil Cole.  Take my word for it: following the lines of their faces is like riding through the sagebrush scenery, only better.

 Admittedly, I was underwhelmed at first. 

Following the brief introduction, in the very next scene Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons, looking suitably slithery but doing a very questionable English/Western — Wenglish? — accent) cuts down three lawmen come to arrest him. Enter Cole and Hitch, hired to bring Bragg to justice. 

The dime-a-dozen Western plot, I thought.

 Then comes the widow to town, played by Renee Zellweger, or maybe that’s the other way around.  Zellweger has her charms but completely lacks the ability to disappear into a role. 

Time to throw in the towel?

 Not quite. Harris keeps the camera firmly planted on his characters, their furtive glances and steely stares, and with a sure directorial touch delves into the undercurrents of emotions on the lawless, merciless frontier.  There are tests of deep friendship and loyalty, unspoken codes of behavior and honor, exchanges of trust, and bitter betrayals.  The people in "Appaloosa" are like ships in a storm-tossed sea, desperately looking for a place or another person to anchor to, and trying to navigate the roiling — yet of necessity, mostly suppressed — feelings that result.

 As Cole falls for the young widow, he becomes increasingly unable to govern his emotions and to remain, as he must, a bloodless killer like his foe. Hitch, too, must decide on the limits of his loyalty to his friend, how far his soul can expand.

 There is a gentle humanity in this movie.  Many scenes of dialogue have a spontaneous feel, and the movie paradoxically loosens up as it progresses, even as it moves toward the inevitable showdown.

 The film is far from perfect, and there are a number of awkward scenes, too. Its biggest crime is utterly wasting the beautiful and talented Spanish actress Ariadna Gil, last seen on these shores as the mother in the extraordinary "Pan’s Labyrinth."  Here she plays Hitch’s mostly mute love interest, whose sole job seems to be to moon at him sympathetically.

 "Appaloosa" has much in common with last year’s "3:10 to Yuma," and some may prefer that film’s more sweeping, operatic quality.  As for me, I found Harris’s quiet exploration far more engrossing and unexpected.