Tombstone (1993)

Directed by: George P. Cosmatos 
Written: Kevin Jarre
Starring: Kurt Russell, Val Kilmer
Rated: R

Is it bad that I would recommend this film on the stipulation that the editor cut out all scenes involving women or its star, Kurt Russell, whenever a scene involves him speaking? If that isn't bad then yes, see this film. As it stands, however, no small amount of patience is needed to endure Russell faking a bad boy, gunslinger persona with the most godawful mustache a costumer could inflict, or the numbing melodrama vomited forth from a slew of highly incompetent actresses. Thank God for Val Kilmer is all I have to say.

The days of the Spaghetti Western are long since dead, and they don't need any more dirt heaped onto their graves. Camp and cliche are all well and good, but not in a genre which I hold dearly and that doesn't get nearly as much love as deserved. A simple yet effective true story of a retired lawman and his brothers ridding the town of Tombstone from a renegade band of miscreants, headed by two big names could have punched a heartbeat back into the Western (the early 90's was good to them, think "Dances with Wolves" and "Unforgiven"). The lack of gravity and clear vision finally trumped the solid story.

We begin with Wyatt Earp (Russell) and the brothers Earp (Sam Elliott and Bill Paxton), who move to Tombstone with plans of making big bucks in the shiny world of business. Wyatt bullies himself into the attention of the mayor and the local sheriff, and soon a red scarfed gang known as the Cowboys have their eye fixed on him and his family.

Wyatt is going straight, he tells us over and over. But that mustache and that duster say otherwise. They say this is a man who has applied a badge to his chest and uses it to justify his violent actions. In my mind their is something rather pathological about soldiers or security guards or policemen; it certainly takes a specific type of man who willingly puts himself into harm's way, and Wyatt seems to relish in it. A hero? Hardly. More an outlaw with immunity.

But of course Wyatt can't be presented that way. This is the rootenist, tootenist, shootenist town in Arizona, and of all of the men in Tombstone who flaunt about their phallic substitutes at least one of them needs to have us morally sympathize at some level. Not to worry, though. Director George P. Cosmatos (haven't heard of him? Yeah, me neither...) makes sure to sledgehammer our sympathies into us with one excruciating love story with actress Dana Delany. The only thing worse than her acting in her film is her overbite.

She is just one of far too many women here who feel it is in the film's best interest to make sure that every scene is their scene. Frankly, I'm surprised most of them even allowed other people into their shots. Paula Malcomson as Wyatt's sister Allie chewed up the scene in the worst sort of way. Her 101 acting skills had no place being in the same film as Charlton Heston. Please gals, leave it to the gents.

What a revelation Val Kilmer was. I never really took him seriously as anything more than a handsome face, but behind the character Doc Holliday, an alcoholic sharpshooter dying from tuberculosis, he is a juggernaut. Of  course, a great deal of credit must be given to screenwriter Kevin Jarre for penning a genuinely interesting and creative character. A sort of genteel, Southern gentleman, Holliday struts about a calm suaveness wielding a crackling wit.

This is a man's film in general, make no mistake. Fast, precise bullets, drinking, smoking, gambling all fit that great American rubber stamp of the self-made, man's man. In that regard it is a lot of fun. I tried not to take things too seriously, because in the end is there really all that much to analyze about the O.K. Corral shootout? Multitudinous historical inaccuracies aside--and miserable acting from a far too large section of actors put grudgingly aside--"Tombstone" nearly manages a recommendation.

2/4