This is not the hippie Billy the Kid. I insist this is a proto-punk-rock country western outlaw (duh) Billy the Kid. This is my favorite of Peckinpah's BIG films. Always has been. I am not so sophisticated that I cannot be won over by a film that mostly exists to help me differentiate different strata of cool. In what sense is Kris Kristofferson a "kid"? (He doesn't look like one.) Look deeper. Take notes.
A sweet movie: the little baby pigs in the background, the kitten, the counting death, Kris Kristofferson in general, Bob Dylan too, when he puts on those glasses in particular, the half-serious half-silly use of the US flag and kids playing in the background. The 'la las' in the soundtrack remind me of the score in Gilmore Girls. The blood looks like lip tar.
Raging from borderline avant-garde to unwatchable, feeling is this was like a compilation of directors never accomplished ideas, put together once he found the time (or soberness). Standing apart, some of it looks out of place, like an ode to nothing. But put together, glued by Dylan's tunes, it is a uniquely strange work.
The grand mazta of framing and editing shootouts. Makes me reevaluate other westerns I've seen before it. It doesn’t blow up the boundaries of the genre like The Wild Bunch. Westerns were never going to be the same after that film, and every one made to this day lives in its’ shadow. However, I found the set pieces, characters and dialogue of Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid to be more memorable. 96/100
This film is what it would look like if Antonioni made a Western. People criticize Peckinpah for his violence but they very rarely talk about the poetry in his films which is very much on display in this great film. Nobody dealt with complex male relationships the way Peckinpah did.
There is a melancholy mood, half-dark lightning and sort of sadness all through the movie. And violence. And Whiskey. I love this kind of mixture. I also believe that Bob Dylan's music perfectly fits into this setting. Although, I am not a fan of his music overall. James Coburn is great. I can feel the pain he got. Before, while and after his killing of the Kid.
"Desire" list: Kris Kristofferson, the singer-actor in the splendor of himself, a righteous face with an underlying lyric. Contrary to the precept too often quoted by John Ford in "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance," Peckinpah does not create or copy a legend but sings a folk ballad, in which the characters are not examples of anything but of their smallness before history and their grandeur in the detail of a rhyme.
Some truly beautiful moments of sadness with one of the best ending to any western. This is probably Peckinpah's most beautiful film. Sadly, unlike most westerns, its use of music left much to be desired as Dylan's song never felt right to me and often broke the tone of the scenes. In fact, the only time music is well used is in the ending, since there's no lyrics to it. In short, Dylan should have let the music talk
Criticized it for its longueurs & detours, Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid is a great western. A sad & pathetic character study of a sellout who kills his best friend to conform to authority, Peckinpah's film isn't the most uplifting experience. But for those who want a honest exploration about the Old American West & the disenchantment of a nation, here is a poetic dirge that ruminates the death knell of a time gone by.
The usual superlatives hold true; this is Peckinpah's final statement on the end of the "west", on violence, on masculinity, on the passing of tradition. When Garrett shoots out his own reflection following the death of the Kid, it communicates so much about this loss of identity, the self-hated & the disillusionment felt by those who saw their country slowly slip away from them as one generation gave in to the next.
Magnifico western crepuscolare di Peckinpah,vero maestro del genere.I personaggi sono meravigliosi,soprattutto l'angosciato e struggente sceriffo,con un degno avversario e una colonna sonora firmata da un certo Bob Dylan.Il sottotesto è stupendo,quasi alla Leone:il Mito della Frontiera che si chiude per lasciar spazio ad un Capitalismo che sembra progresso ma che in realtà è mille volte più cinico e più subdolo.
3 1/2 out of 5 stars. With the exception of an annoyingly odd and random Bob Dylan, the acting and cast were superb. The Slim Pickens scenes were heartbreaking. The direction and landscape cinematography were breathtaking and despite his complete and total inability to act, Dylan's soundtrack was superb.
A mysterious, scorching dream. Most westerns fuel themselves on fire and brimstone. This on the other hand concerns itself with the charecter and atmosphere: stirring up a sad, desolate mood which reflects that of the Garrett and his disposition in the fleeting wild west. "This country's getting older and I aim to grow old with it". 5/5
While it's made with a lot of emotion, sometimes it doesn't translate well to the screen. There are moments where the action is confusing, simply because of how underplayed it is. Aside from that, some scenes felt oddly paced, and I think that is a great flaw. Like the moment where the man dies, and seconds later they're chasing turkeys. And then more people die. It's a bit grating. But Katy Jurado! She stands out.
A string of death scenes are put on together like beautiful pearls on a bracelet. The same bracelet gets tighter and tighter until we understand that the minor deaths of the charachters are all part of a much bigger death: the one of an era and a myth. I need to rewatch this one.
On first viewing, this is not a film I especially want to watch a second time. But I may have to, because I'm not comfortable with my current impression, which is one of sprawling, dawdling tedium. Dylan makes for a pleasant cipher on the screen, and his soundtrack is occasionally quite effective (if occasionally quite grating and dull), but he's a poor substitute for Nog, and the film is a poor substitute for 'Nog.'
PGaBTK is often seen as a bleaker vision of Peckinpah's West than The Wild Bunch, and possibly this arises because there is an inversion of the focus of the earlier film, in that the Judas tale -that of Garrett- takes on greater resonance than that of the outlaw; Garrett is the real outcast, forever sauntering around the picket fence of respectability. A masterful film made with an overwhelming intensity of feeling.
Koburn's & Cristofferson's faces, sculpted from clay & butter, respectively, threaten to disintegrate the story, which meanders ambiently from one scene to the next w/ the same reluctance w/ which Garrett hunts Billy. My father-in-law gave me some socioeconomic context for the conflict (mercantile monopoly turns murderous); the film boils it down to two dudes' sad mugs speaking sad things when words & bullets fail.