A film that became a legendary bomb, the 1977 Western The White Buffalo has
been re-evaluated by movie fans in recent years and many consider it to
be an underrated classic. Count me out of this assessment. The film is
certainly unique: an ambitious attempt to blend the Western and horror
film genres, but it falls short on most counts.The United Artists
production stars Charles Bronson as Wild Bill Hickcok, who- for reasons
never adequately explained- is haunted by terrifying nightmares
involving him in a life-or-death confrontation with a giant white
buffalo. I didn't know that buffalo come in colors, but I'll cede the
point. (Given the dreadful styles of the 1970s, it's surprising the film
wasn't titled The Plaid Buffalo.) Simultaneously, Chief Crazy
Horse (Will Sampson) is having his own white buffalo problems. Seems the
actual rampaging beast wreaked havoc on his village and killed his
child. In order to restore his pride and stature among the tribe, he
must hunt down and slaughter the animal- or be stuck with the monicker
of "The Worm" henceforth. (This must be the Indian equivalent of
"nerd".)
The two men are on obsessive journeys and are destined to meet up -
but both feel they have the singular right to kill the buffalo. Hickcok
meanders through some cow towns under an alias and hooks up with a
mountain man geezer (Jack Warden, channeling the ghost of Gabby Hayes)
who decides to accompany him on his quest. When Hickcok and Crazy Horse
do meet up, they end up saving each other's life in respective ambushes
and declare themselves blood brothers. Despite this, each man is
determined to be the one who slays the white buffalo.
The film is moody and atmospheric and at times is offbeat enough
that, if it weren't for the Colorado scenery, one might suspect this is
an Italian Western. Nevertheless, the screenplay by producer, screenwriter and director Richard Sale (based
on his novel) is erratic and contains many disparate elements that never
blend together in a satisfactory manner. The film is peppered with
welcome appearances by many Western favorites (Stuart Whitman, Slim
Pickens, John Carradine) but their characters are superfluous and smack
of gimmicky cameos. Clint Walker shows up briefly, well-cast and playing
against type as a villain. There is also the rather odd presence of Kim
Novak in a nothing role as a good-hearted hooker who suffers the
humiliation of being rejected by Hickcok even as he shares her bed.
(This must be the first case of erectile dysfunction caused by a white
buffalo.)
The movie was an attempt by producer Dino De Laurentiis to exploit
the dying Western genre by finding a way to incorporate elements of Jaws. De
Laurentiis seemed to have a fixation on giant, mythic animals taking
vengeance on mankind, as he produced "King Kong", "Orca" and "The White
Buffalo" all within a two-year period. Despite
the prestigious cast and the fact that this was a United Artists
production, the budget was clearly skimpy. The film abounds with shoddy
rear screen projection shots and some amateurish sets, particularly in
the mountain sequences set at night. There's plenty of plastic snow and
the sets are somewhat less realistic than a Christmas window display at
Macy's. Then there is the titular character of which much has been
written in movie lore. Apparently devoid of anything other than a $20
bill for special effects work, the white buffalo is generally shot in
extreme closeup in very brief cuts to mask its ludicrous appearance.
Although the buffalo is seemingly immortal and can crash through
mountains of snow and cave walls, it never looks any more menacing than a
slightly perturbed mountain goat. The analogies to Moby Dick also
become a bit too obvious especially when Crazy Horse rides atop the
beast, flaying at it with a knife. (just like Ahab and the whale- get
it?) All of this is set to an atmospheric if somewhat low-key score by
John Barry that fits the proceedings well.
Perhaps the most unintentionally amusing aspect of the movie is the
initial meetings between Hickcok and Crazy Horse. The two men face each
other and gesture with elaborate Indian sign language- despite the fact
they are simultaneously speaking to each other in perfect English! This
is as practical as using signal flags to communicate with a dinner
companion and seems more suited to an episode of Police Squad.
Despite all of these criticisms, there is something admirable about the concept of The White Buffalo in
that the film at least tries to be an original take on an age-old
genre. It also represents one of the last movies in which Charles
Bronson at least tried to stretch his acting muscles. With his saggy
eyes and droopy mustache, he's perfectly cast as Hickcok. The failure of
this film seemed to discourage his professional ambitions. With a
couple of exceptions (Telefon, Death Hunt) Bronson went happily
into B movie hell, churning out low-rent but profitable potboilers aimed
at inner city and drive-in audiences. The shame of it is that he also
encouraged once respected directors like J. Lee Thompson and Michael
Winner to go along with him.
The White Buffalo was one of those major failures that initiated the virtual end of the Western film genre, and it was Heaven's Gate three
years later that nailed the coffin shut. The Bronson film has grown in
stature as a curiosity in the ensuing years and apologists claim that
the chintzy set pieces must have been intended in order to convey the
dream-like quality of the plot. Much the same has been said of
Hitchcock's Marnie, which was also heavily criticized for its
abysmal sets, rear screen production work and use of matte paintings.
However, in both cases the hypothesis seems unlikely. They were simply
troubled productions overseen by directors who seem to have lost
interest in their respective projects. Universal ended up losing money
on the Hitchcock drama while United Artists was forced to pick up the
tab for the buffalo bill, if you'll pardon the pun.
The White Buffalo has recently been re-released by Kino
Lorber
Studio Classics. The transfer is superb, which only makes the white
buffalo look even phonier, but that just adds to the fun. An original
trailer is included and this time around, a commentary track has been
added by Paul Talbot, author of the terrific "Bronson's Loose" books.
Talbot admits he's obsessed by Bronson and his films and provides a
master class on the making of The White Buffalo. His track is
highly informative, if lacking in humor, as he discusses the career
credits of virtually every actor who appears in a speaking role.
Talbot's contribution makes the film worth obtaining, even if you had
the earlier version.
The 1980s was a fun time to be a child. The monster
kids of the 1950s and 1960s may have had Forrest J. Ackerman and his Famous
Monsters of Filmland magazine, but we had full-blown horror content in
films ostensibly made for a young audience, from the melting Nazis in Raiders
of the Lost Ark or the terrifying library apparition in Ghostbusters,
to a melting Stripe in Joe Dante’s equally hilarious and scary Gremlins.
In this new book dedicated to horror films aimed at children, Catherine Lester begins
by drawing on early examples such as Frankenstein’s murder of the little
girl by its titular monster, along with other pre-code horrors that primarily
drew a young crowd, through to its modern, reanimated version, Tim Burton’s Frankenweenie.
The book then takes a deeper look at the ‘horrific’ childlike gremlins who both
commit violent acts and then have violence acted upon them (along with the
aforementioned Stripe, who can forget the gremlin in the microwave?). What
happens to the representation of children in the horror film when children are
the audience? Did the children in the audience take sympathy with the gremlins,
who let’s not forget, just happily sit watching Disney films with childlike
wonder when the adult world just leaves them alone? The violence combined with
the Looney Tunes tone of Gremlins caused some issues for the MPAA,
something which the book also goes into. Ultimately it led to the introduction
of the PG-13, apparently suggested by Steven Spielberg, the film’s producer,
who described the new rating as “PG with a little hot sauce on top.”
Lester also draws on another eighties staple,
The Monster Squad, a sort of The Goonies meets The Lost Boys
via Universal’s horror canon. By introducing the concept of the ‘Crazyspace’, a
space in which child characters are able to be the prime agents in dispatching
evil forces in the complete absence of adult supervision, the book explores the
way in which many films present children as autonomous and often superior to even
the most masculinised models of authority; in this case the kids defeat Dracula
and his fellow monsters before the US Army arrive, something which would have
been very different in the 1950s monster and science fiction movies, where it
was usually the army who saved the day.
Bringing the discussion into the 21st
Century, Lester also looks at the animated children’s horrors ParaNorman (one
of this reviewer’s favourites), Coraline and Monster House, along
with Joe Dante’s return to the children’s horror genre with 2009’s live action The
Hole. By covering almost a century of children's horror films, this book
makes for an insightful and entertaining examination of the horrific child and
the cathartic nature of the genre. For this reviewer, as a child horror was an
escape from the terrors of the real world, and as such it is a rewarding
experience to be able to read this major contribution to the study of these
strange and wonderful films. Horror Films for Children is highly
recommended, both the book and the films themselves!