David O'ConnellJesse James and Robert Ford
June 11th 2008 05:33
Many great artists have collaborated to produce “The Assassination Of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford”, a languid, deliberately-paced film set in the early 1880’s, and a long-time project for Australian director Andrew Dominik as his follow up to Chopper.
Based on the novel by Ron Hansen, it’s a hypnotic tale with a wonderful supporting cast around the two central figures of tragedy, Brad Pitt’s James and Casey Affleck’s Ford. Sam Rockwell as Ford’s dim-witted brother Charly is especially good value.
James as we learn is the famous outlaw whose almost supernatural instincts allow him to continually avoid capture as he continues robbing trains. Robert is the junior member of his support gang, the Fords, who has grown up idolizing Jesse, hoping to ingratiate his way into Jesse’s favours. He does before long but it’s destined to always be a strained, uneasy union between the two, marked by suspicion and fear of betrayal - which in this world can only mean one thing – taking a man’s life.
Both lead actors give formidable performances and though Affleck was rightly awarded an Oscar nomination for his work here, Pitt is no less fearsome as the murderous anti-hero who - in his 30’s, unsatisfied and ailing both physically and spiritually - sees the end of the road as his gang dwindles down to just he and his older brother Frank (Sam Shepard). He’s tormented by the power he has over everyone, his reputation alone causing fear and paranoia amongst those around him. In the end, it’s Ford, a coward but with narcissistic fantasies of grandeur, who is used by the law as a tool to exact ‘justice’ for the people.
The last hour of this 150 minute epic is the most riveting as it counts down to the inevitable finale and there’s great tension created even though we know what the outcome must be. It’s the kind of film that a lot of people will detest but slow, dark epics have always held a fascination for me and this is ultimately one of the most memorable in recent years. It’s a brilliant work, filled with many forms of poetry.
Perhaps one of its greatest stars is cinematographer Roger Deakins who further cements his reputation as the one of the finest artists in his field. Every frame is meticulously composed, his palette often including the dominant aspects of gold and silver; the same trees enmeshed in golden strands by daylight become swathed in glimmering silver halos by night. Watching this film unfold is like watching a series of period paintings come to life by slow degrees. It’s truly cinematic magic and it’s amazing that in the same year Deakins could shoot two films of the highest quality – this and No Country for Old Men – and not be rewarded with an Oscar (only nominations for both, with Robert Elswitt winning for There Will Be Blood).
Using Hugh Ross as narrator throughout the film was another stroke of genius on Dominik’s behalf. With its eloquent and poetic insights, the omniscient voiceover gives this brooding tale a true literary weight. Ross’s voice is just the perfect pitch and was a memorable aspect of the film for me, especially in the opening and closing scenes.
Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’s elegiac, haunting themes may have been simple but made for a very effective score too. (Cave’s cameo near the end may have been the film’s only misstep - it jolted a bit and felt unnecessary).
In the end I’d have to say that Andrew Dominik’s persistent devotion to getting this book to the big screen has paid off handsomely in an artistic sense; it’s a major leap forward from the overrated Chopper, a powerful rumination on friendship, betrayal and the cost of immortality.
For as one man reaches out to embrace death as a merciful end to his anguish and torment, the deadly weight of irony waits to claim his cowardly assassin, sinking him into an unforeseeable abyss of darkness and delirium of his own.
Based on the novel by Ron Hansen, it’s a hypnotic tale with a wonderful supporting cast around the two central figures of tragedy, Brad Pitt’s James and Casey Affleck’s Ford. Sam Rockwell as Ford’s dim-witted brother Charly is especially good value.
James as we learn is the famous outlaw whose almost supernatural instincts allow him to continually avoid capture as he continues robbing trains. Robert is the junior member of his support gang, the Fords, who has grown up idolizing Jesse, hoping to ingratiate his way into Jesse’s favours. He does before long but it’s destined to always be a strained, uneasy union between the two, marked by suspicion and fear of betrayal - which in this world can only mean one thing – taking a man’s life.
Both lead actors give formidable performances and though Affleck was rightly awarded an Oscar nomination for his work here, Pitt is no less fearsome as the murderous anti-hero who - in his 30’s, unsatisfied and ailing both physically and spiritually - sees the end of the road as his gang dwindles down to just he and his older brother Frank (Sam Shepard). He’s tormented by the power he has over everyone, his reputation alone causing fear and paranoia amongst those around him. In the end, it’s Ford, a coward but with narcissistic fantasies of grandeur, who is used by the law as a tool to exact ‘justice’ for the people.
The last hour of this 150 minute epic is the most riveting as it counts down to the inevitable finale and there’s great tension created even though we know what the outcome must be. It’s the kind of film that a lot of people will detest but slow, dark epics have always held a fascination for me and this is ultimately one of the most memorable in recent years. It’s a brilliant work, filled with many forms of poetry.
Perhaps one of its greatest stars is cinematographer Roger Deakins who further cements his reputation as the one of the finest artists in his field. Every frame is meticulously composed, his palette often including the dominant aspects of gold and silver; the same trees enmeshed in golden strands by daylight become swathed in glimmering silver halos by night. Watching this film unfold is like watching a series of period paintings come to life by slow degrees. It’s truly cinematic magic and it’s amazing that in the same year Deakins could shoot two films of the highest quality – this and No Country for Old Men – and not be rewarded with an Oscar (only nominations for both, with Robert Elswitt winning for There Will Be Blood).
The two protagonists together on the last day of Jesse's life
Using Hugh Ross as narrator throughout the film was another stroke of genius on Dominik’s behalf. With its eloquent and poetic insights, the omniscient voiceover gives this brooding tale a true literary weight. Ross’s voice is just the perfect pitch and was a memorable aspect of the film for me, especially in the opening and closing scenes.
Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’s elegiac, haunting themes may have been simple but made for a very effective score too. (Cave’s cameo near the end may have been the film’s only misstep - it jolted a bit and felt unnecessary).
In the end I’d have to say that Andrew Dominik’s persistent devotion to getting this book to the big screen has paid off handsomely in an artistic sense; it’s a major leap forward from the overrated Chopper, a powerful rumination on friendship, betrayal and the cost of immortality.
For as one man reaches out to embrace death as a merciful end to his anguish and torment, the deadly weight of irony waits to claim his cowardly assassin, sinking him into an unforeseeable abyss of darkness and delirium of his own.
Director and star together on set
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