Rosalie Sorrels Passes At 83 (2017)- The Long Labor Memory, Indeed- The Music Of Rosalie Sorrels and Utah Phillips

Rosalie Sorrels Passes At 83 (2017)- The Long Labor Memory, Indeed- The Music Of Rosalie Sorrels and Utah Phillips

If I Could Be The Rain I Would Be Rosalie Sorrels-The Legendary Folksinger-Songwriter Has Her Last Go Round At 83

By Music Critic Bart Webber

Back the day, back in the emerging folk minute of the 1960s that guys like Sam Lowell, Si Lannon, the late Peter Paul Markin and others were deeply immersed in (and the former two never got over since they will still tell a tale or two about the times if you go anywhere within ten miles of the subject-I will take my chances here because this notice is important) all roads seemed to lead to Harvard Square, the Village down in NYC, North Beach out in San Francisco, and maybe Old Town in Chicago. That is where names like Baez, Dylan, Paxton, Ochs, Collins and a whole crew of younger folksingers who sat at the feet of guys like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger.  

But there was another important strand that hovered around Saratoga Springs in upstate New York, up around Skidmore and some other colleges. That was Caffe Lena’s where some of those names played but also where some upstarts from the West got a chance to play the small crowds who gathered at that famed (and still existing) coffeehouse. Upstarts like Bruce “Utah” Phillips (although he could call several places home Utah was key to what he would sing about). And out of Idaho one Rosalie Sorrels who just joined her long-time friend Utah in that last go-round at the age of 83.

Yeah, out there in the West, not the West Coast west that is different, where what the novelist Thomas Wolfe called the place where the states were square and you had better be as well if you didn’t want to starve or be found in some empty arroyo un-mourned and unloved. A different place and a different type of subject matter for your themes.   

The last time I saw Rosalie perform in person was back in 2002 when she performed at what was billed as her last go-round, her hanging up her shoes from the dusty travel road. She was on fire that night except the then recent death of another folk legend, Dave Von Ronk, who was supposed to be on the bill (and who was replaced by David Bromberg who did a great job) cast a pall over the proceedings. I will always remember her cover of Old Devil Time that night -yeah, give me one more chance, one more breathe. But I will always think of If I Could Be The Rain whenever I hear her name. RIP Rosalie Sorrels

CD REVIEWS

Every Month Is Labor Month

The Long Memory, Indeed

The Long Memory, Rosalie Sorrels and Utah Phillips, Red House Records, 1996

The first paragraph here has been used in reviewing other Rosalie Sorrels CDs in this space.

“My first association of the name Rosalie Sorrels with folk music came, many years ago now, from hearing the recently departed folk singer/storyteller/ songwriter and unrepentant Wobblie (IWW) Utah Phillips mention his long time friendship with her going back before he became known as a folksinger. I also recall that combination of Sorrels and Phillips as he performed his classic “Starlight On The Rails” and she his also classic “If I Could Be The Rain” on a PBS documentary honoring the Café Lena in Saratoga, New York, a place that I am also very familiar with for many personal and musical reasons. Of note here: it should be remembered that Rosalie saved, literally, many of the compositions that Utah left helter-skelter around the country in his “bumming” days.”

That said, what could be better than to have Rosalie and Utah on the same CD (although not together) singing and telling stories about the old days in the labor movement, mainly the labor movement of the American West that was instrumental in creating the Industrial Workers Of The World (IWW, Wobblies). Listen to Rosalie on the story of Aunt Molly Jackson and the National Miners’ Union (NMU) (a Stalinist ‘third period’ “red union” that took over when John L. Lewis’ UMW left the miners in the lurch-sound familiar). Or the saga of a mill closing in an earlier version of runaway factories (then mainly to the south of this country) in “Aragon Mills”.

A nice story told by Utah is that of the genesis of soap box oration as is his singing of his classic “All Used Up”. Utah here pays tribute to the heroic exploits of Mother Jones, one of our early real militant labor leaders (by example, I should add). And also notes what happens when there are no (or few, as today) militant unions to fight for decency and justice in “No More Reds In The Union”. I give special attention here to “Nevada Jane” a song that Utah wrote based on stories told to him in Butte, Montana about the legendary “Big Bill” Haywood , probably the best labor leader, pound for pound, produced by the American labor movement I the 20th century and his wife Nevada Jane. Whether the stories were true and the song has it right about the relationship between the pair is separate question but I still like it. While Utah and I had a very wide political gap between us we shared one thing in common- a long, long memory about the fate of the international labor movement. Adieu, Utah.

If I Could Be The Rain-"Utah Phillips"

Everybody I know sings this song their own way, and they arrive at their own understanding of it. Guy Carawan does it as a sing along. I guess he thinks it must have some kind of universal appeal. To me, it's a very personal song. It's about events in my life that have to do with being in love. I very seldom sing it myself for those reasons.


If I could be the rain, I'd wash down to the sea;
If I could be the wind, there'd be no more of me;
If I could be the sunlight, and all the days were mine,
I would find some special place to shine.

But all the rain I'll ever be is locked up in my eyes,
When I hear the wind it only whispers sad goodbyes.
If I could hide the way I feel I'd never sing again;
Sometimes I wish that I could be the rain.

If I could be the rain, I'd wash down to the sea;
If I could be the wind, there'd be no more of me;
If I could hide the way I feel I'd never sing again;
Sometimes I wish that I could be the rain.

Copyright ©1973, 2000 Bruce Phillips


THE TELLING TAKES ME HOME
(Bruce Phillips)

Let me sing to you all those songs I know
Of the wild, windy places locked in timeless snow,
And the wide, crimson deserts where the muddy rivers flow.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

Come along with me to some places that I've been
Where people all look back and they still remember when,
And the quicksilver legends, like sunlight, turn and bend
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

Walk along some wagon road, down the iron rail,
Past the rusty Cadillacs that mark the boom town trail,
Where dreamers never win and doers never fail,
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

I'll sing of my amigos, come from down below,
Whisper in their loving tongue the songs of Mexico.
They work their stolen Eden, lost so long ago.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

I'll tell you all some lies, just made up for fun,
And the loudest, meanest brag, it can beat the fastest gun.
I'll show you all some graves that tell where the West was won.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

And I'll sing about an emptiness the East has never known,
Where coyotes don't pay taxes and a man can live alone,
And you've got to walk forever just to find a telephone.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.

Let me sing to you all those songs I know
Of the wild, windy places locked in timeless snow,
And the wide, crimson deserts where the muddy rivers flow.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STARLIGHT ON THE RAILS
(Bruce Phillips)

I can hear the whistle blowing
High and lonesome as can be
Outside the rain is softly falling
Tonight its falling just for me

Looking back along the road I've traveled
The miles can tell a million tales
Each year is like some rolling freight train
And cold as starlight on the rails

I think about a wife and family
My home and all the things it means
The black smoke trailing out behind me
Is like a string of broken dreams

A man who lives out on the highway
Is like a clock that can't tell time
A man who spends his life just rambling
Is like a song without a rhyme


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ALL USED UP
( U. Utah Phillips)

I spent my whole life making somebody rich
I busted my ass for that son of a bitch
He left me to die like a dog in a ditch
And told me I'm all used up

He used up my labor, he used up my time
He plundered my body and squandered my mind
Then he gave me a pension, some handouts and wine
And told me I'm all used up

My kids are in hock to a god you call Work
Slaving their lives out for some other jerk
And my youngest in 'Frisco just made shipping-clerk
He don't know I'm all used up

Some young people reach out for power and gold
And they don't have respect for anything old
For pennies they're bought, for promises sold
Someday they'll be used up

They use up the oil, they use up the trees
They use up the air and they use up the seas
But how about you, friend, and how about me
What's left, when we're all used up

I'll finish my life in this crummy hotel
It's lousy with bugs and my God, what a smell
But my plumbing still works and I'm clear as a bell
Don't tell me I'm all used up

Outside my window the world passes by
It gives me a handout, then spits in my eye
And no one can tell me, 'cause no one knows why
I'm still living, but I'm all used up

Sometimes in a dream I sit by a tree
My life is a book of how things used to be
And the kids gather 'round and they listen to me
They don't think I'm all used up

And there's songs and there's laughter and things I can do
And all that I've learned I can give back to you
And I'd give my last breath just to make it come true
And to know I'm not all used up

They use up the oil, they use up the trees
They use up the air and they use up the seas
But as long as I'm breathing they won't use up me
Don't tell me I'm all used up

@aging @work

Nevada Jane
I've been told that I'm wrong about this song. I don't know whether I am or not, since Bill Haywood, who was with the Western Federation of Miners and was the first Secretary-Treasurer of the Industrial Workers of the World, never mentioned his wife in his autobiography except very briefly, so I can't tell whether he really loved his wife or not.

I do have stories from old-timers who tell me about when Bill Haywood was working in a mine camp, basically doing a job of de-horning. His wife, Nevada Jane, had been crippled by a fall from her pony, so she couldn't walk. Bill had a house on the edge of town, and he would carry his wife down to the railroad station every morning. She would sit there and talk to the women of the town about what they could do to help organize the town, while Bill was brawling at the bars. He'd come back at the end of the day, pick Nevada Jane up, hang one of their kids off of each shoulder, and every night you'd see him carrying the wife and kids up to the house.

Most of the songs about labor struggles are full of loud shouting and arm-waving and thunder and rhetoric. It's good for me, every now and then, to try to take a look at the human side of it, right or wrong.

The tune is by one of my favorite songwriters, Stephen Foster. I first heard "Gentle Annie" from Kate McGarrigle of Canada. The tune has too many wide-apart changes in it for me to sing the way Stephen Foster wrote it, so I changed it some.


And when he stumbles in with blood upon his shirt,
Washing up alone, just to hide the hurt,
He will lie down by your side and wake you with your name,
You'll hold him in your arms, Nevada Jane. (Chorus)

Nevada Jane went riding, her pony took a fall,
The doctor said she never would walk again at all;
But Big Bill could lift her lightly, the big hands rough and plain
Would gently carry home Nevada Jane.

The storms of Colorado rained for ten long years,
The mines of old Montana were filled with blood and tears,
Utah, Arizona, California heard the name
Of the man who always loved Nevada Jane. (Chorus)

Although the ranks are scattered like leaves upon the breeze,
And with them go the memory of harder times than these,
Some things never change, but always stay the same,
Just like the way Bill loved Nevada Jane. (Chorus)

Copyright ©1973, 2000 Bruce Phillips

A Jeff Bridges Retrospective-The Taming of the Old American West-“Bad Company”- A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Bad Company 

DVD Review

Bad Company, Jeff Bridges, Barry Brown, directed by Robert Benton, Universal, 1972

No, I am not going to start off this piece by going on and on about how Jeff Bridges’ Oscar-winning performance in Crazy Hearts as down-and-out country singer/songwriter Bad Blake was merely an extension of him as a modern young Texas dude, Duane Jackson, in Peter Bogdanovitch’s film adaptation of Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show. Although, now that I think about it, I could. Rather, though I want to use my time to look at this film, Bad Company, as an example of that then (1972) fairly new look at the old American West through other than rose-colored glasses.

McCabe and Mrs. Miller and The Wild Bunch are probably better known, and rightly so, for breaking down the black and white view of the old wild West that those of us who came of age in the dawn of the television era (black and white television, to boot) of the early 1950s and formed our view of the “cowboys and Indians” from the seemingly endless Westerns that ran on Saturday morning (and Saturday afternoon at the movie house, alternating with scary horror or monster movies). The good guys wore white, the bad guys black and the Indians, well, it was kind of left unsaid but the only good one was a dead one. The above mentioned films, this film, and writers like McMurtry and Cormac McCarthy helped to bring some realism, some naturalism to the layers of myth and mis-history.

Take the plot of Bad Company. A young man (Barry Brown), the hero of the film or rather better the anti-hero, of good Ohio family, aided and abetted by that family, is furnished with the means to avoid being conscripted into the Union Army during the later stages of the American Civil War. Said naïve young man learns the lessons of survival in the rough and tumble West before he even gets past Missouri. From there, aided by roustabout and ne’er-do-well Jeff Bridges (being, well, prankster Jeff Bridges), and his gang, he pushes on trying, trying against all odds to keep on the right side of the law (read: frontier justice, not necessarily the same thing). In the end, he does what he has to do to survive. Old Gene Autry, old Hop-along Cassidy, old Roy Rogers might not have been able to fathom that, but you and I can.

*Those Oklahoma Hills Back Home- The Cowboy Songs Of Woody Guthrie

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Woody Guthrie Doing "So Long Its Been Good To Know You".

CD REVIEW

Buffalo Skinners: The Asch Recordings, Volume 4, Woody Guthrie, Smithsonian/Folkways, 1999

As I have mentioned on early reviews concerning the music of folklorist Woody Guthrie if any of the older generation, the “Generation of ‘68” needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s “This Land Is Your Land” is practically a national anthem (and in some quarters is treated as just that). Not as well known, but which now should be rectified with the production of this fourth volume of Woody’s work from his most prolific Asch Recording period of the 1940’s, is his rather large compilation of Western cowboy-oriented material. This, as the title of this entry notes, reflects those Oklahoma hills back home from whence he came.

Woody as a folklorist, as well as a singer and songwriter, was not interested in the cowboy as created by the movies, especially the one-dimensional one created in the hey day of the cowboy movie in the 1930’s, but the real one. The one who spend many a lonely night out on the trail herding cattle to market; who went hungry and dusty for long periods; and, who was nicked up, kicked up and busted up by man and animal alike. And the one who liked his entertainments short and sweet, a little simple music, a lot of simple liquor and plenty of women on those raucous Saturday nights off the range. Not much room in those tales, either for 1930’s Hollywood or Woody’s for that matter, for the ones portrayed in literature by Larry McMurtry or Cormac McCarthy or on film by “Brokeback Mountain” or those not recognized until much later like those of the black cowboys of the Oklahoma range, but those are stories for another day.

This compilation covers a wide variety of songs that pay honor, justifiably or not, to the norms of the cowboy profession. “Ranger’s Command” and “Buffalo Skinners” give a sense of the hard life on the trail and the pitfalls of ignorant cowboys being taken in by primitive agrarian or industrial capitalists or their agents-and, as in the case, of “Buffalo Skinners” the quick and sure retribution when the rank and file cowboy got his dander up. Songs of the trail and its travails get a workout here, as well, in “Little Dogies” and “Chisholm Trail”. The loneliness of the life and the vagaries of love in such a transient profession are reflected in “Cowboy Waltz” and “Red River Valley”. The theme of ’rough and ready’ justice is revealed in songs like “Slipknot” and “Billy The Kid”. Overall these twenty- six tracks, several of which also have Woody's long time traveling friend Cisco Houston accompanying him(a man whose career and place in the folk pantheon deserves more attention separately), bring to life the ‘real’ cowboy experience as it was known in Woody’s time.

As always with a Smithsonian/Folkways production the CD includes a booklet of copious liner notes that detail, for the folk historian or the novice alike, the history of each song and its genesis. I am always surprised by the insightful detail provided and as much as I know about this milieu always find something new in them. Moreover, the information here provided inevitably details the rather mundane genesis of some very famous songs like “Pretty Boy Floyd”.

Note: I want to address separately the subject of one of Woody’s most famous songs, and perhaps one of the first of his songs that I remember hearing back in the days, the above-mentioned “Pretty Boy Floyd”. I have reviewed Larry McMurtry’s novel of the same title elsewhere in this space. That novel details the actual ‘exploits of this notorious murderer at the tail end of the Old West period (and maybe, really, the post-Old West period). Woody’s version reflects a 1930’s romantic notion of this primordial outlaw as a modern day Robin Hood. Thus, even a realist like Woody, who could write with compassion and wit about the real sufferings of his beloved Okies and others, got caught up in the myths of the Old West that have sustained generations of Americans, including this reviewer, eagerly looking for a heroic past. For all its false premises though, Woody’s “Pretty Boy” has a line that still has a kernel of folk wisdom that is what drew me to the song in the first place-“some men will rob you with a six gun, and some with a fountain pen”. Sounds prophetic, right?


Pretty Boy Floyd

If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

A Larry McMurtry Potpourri- Part Two

BOOK REVIEWS

Loop Group, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 2004

To readers of this space it is no surprise that I am reviewing a Larry McMurtry novel. I have “discovered” this little Texas gem of an author recently (although I knew of him and some of his work earlier). Naturally, once I get “high” on an author I tend to read everything that I can get my hands on. A partial reason for that is that the number of fiction writers who hold my attention is rather limited, but mainly I like to see the high and low sides of the writer’s career so that I can revel in the reflected glory of my very good choice in picking the author to comment on. I also tend to read an author’s output as I lay my hands on his or her work rather than any particular order. Thus, at present I am reviewing this late work (2004) and an early work Leaving Cheyenne (1962) at the same time. "Loop Group" definitely suffers in comparison to that earlier work.

If I tried to put my finger on what is the outstanding attribute of a good Larry McMurtry read that would most probably be that he is a thoughtful and credible storyteller. The structure of such a story permits one to sift through life’s issues whether it is the vagaries of coming of age, the trauma of a mid-life crisis or the grimness of the struggle against mortality. This, moreover, has nothing to with locale or occupation. As a die-hard older urban Northerner Western stories, modern or from the Old West, would not usually be my natural choice of reading. However, when McMurtry is in his “high” story telling mode and he develops incidents that are believable and has characters do things that seem within the realm of human experience -and that permit one to care about and reflect upon the fates of the characters if only for the length of the story- then he is a premier American writer. That, unfortunately, is not the case here. Why?

From page one of Loop Group McMurtry gave no reason for this reviewer to delve into the characters, their lives, their problems or for that matter their solutions to those problems. Here a couple of long time, native middle level female denizens of the Hollywood film wars, Maggie and Connie, who have known each other forever, and have competed with each other for men, among other things, are struggling with their mortality. That is the unkind fate of all sixty somethings although it is not clear whether that fact alone is worthy of literary attention, at least to this sixty-something reviewer. Moreover, Mr. McMurtry has, at least in some of his 21st century writing, been bitten by the “magical realism” bug that has become a fashion among the literati of late. His plot here, such as it is, has the pair working through interminable problems in order to go on a trip to Texas so they can find some lost 'fountain of youth' there in order to fortify themselves for the last period of their lives. Along the way they encounter a series of misadventures that defy description. Hence the magical realism tag.

Moreover, interspersed throughout, to further plague Maggie and Connie are the problems confronting Maggie’s three married adult daughters with children and Connie’s unmarried, recovering drug-addicted son. The sum total of these problems is a quick sociological look at every contemporary problem of American family life not excluding the sexual ones- in the space of a few weeks. Needless to say we are today also in the “new age” when everyone must have a sexual identity and therefore a crisis of sexual identity. This little trope is also on display in McMurtry’s "When the Light Goes Out" (2007) - the “final” segment of "The Last Picture Show’s" Duane Moore story as he hits his mid-sixties.

In retrospect "Loop Group" is the preparation for "When The Lights Goes Out" except from the female perspective. That, in a nutshell, is the real problem here. As will be apparent in my review of "Leaving Cheyenne" that will follow this one McMurtry is not particularly good with individual female character development when women are in the “starring role” by themselves. I had virtually no empathy for either Maggie or Connie. Nor did I have it for Harmony in "Desert Rose", another female-centered saga . Molly, an extremely rich and independent character, of "Leaving Cheyenne" and Karla and Jacy of "The Last Picture Show" series are very different stories. A further problem along that same line is that when McMurtry leaves his Texas locale he tends to lose his way. That happened here with the Hollywood setting, it happened in "Desert Rose" set in Las Vegas and "All My Friend Are Going To Be Stranger" set mainly in Northern California. Give me Karla, Jacy, Molly, give me Texas but Mr. McMurtry please put out the light on these “magically realistic” efforts. Enough said.

A Texas Love Story

Leaving Cheyenne, Larry McMurtry, Texas A&M University Press, College Station, Texas, 1962

The first two paragraphs were used above in reviewing "Loop Group"

To readers of this space it is no surprise that I am reviewing a Larry McMurtry novel. I have "discovered" this little Texas gem of an author recently (although I knew of him and some of his work earlier). Naturally, once I get "high" on an author I tend to read everything that I can get my hands on. A partial reason for that is that the number of fiction writers who hold my attention is rather limited, but mainly I like to see the high and low sides of the writer's career so that I can revel in the reflected glory of my very good choice in picking the author to comment on. I also tend to read an author's output as I lay my hands on his or her work rather than any particular order. Thus, at present I am reviewing this late work (2004) and an early work Leaving Cheyenne (1962) at the same time. Loop Group definitely suffers in comparison to that earlier work.

If I tried to put my finger on what is the outstanding attribute of a good Larry McMurtry read that would most probably be that he is a thoughtful and credible storyteller. The structure of such a story permits one to sift through life's issues whether it is the vagaries of coming of age, the trauma of a mid-life crisis or the grimness of the struggle against mortality. This, moreover, has nothing to with locale or occupation. As a die-hard older urban Northerner Western stories, modern or from the Old West, would not usually be my natural choice of reading. However, when McMurtry is in his "high" story telling mode and he develops incidents that are believable and has characters do things that seem within the realm of human experience -and that permit one to care about and reflect upon the fates of the characters if only for the length of the story- then he is a premier American writer. That, fortunately, is the case here. Here we have "high" McMurtry. Why?

There are many ways to tell a love story. There are many ways to conceive of a love triangle, as here with the saga of the lives of Gid, Johnny and Molly out in West Texas, just 'East of Eden' in Thalia by McMurtry's lights, in roughly the middle third of the 20th century. There are many ways to put obstacles in the way of a satisfactory resolution of a love triangle in puritanically-driven America. McMurtry has come up with a very innovative method of doing this. In the first section we get the all the tensions of young love, hindered by a father-inspired driven sense of responsibility, as told by Gid. In the second section we get the mixed fruits of that puritan sense of responsibility on Gid's part, the lack of it on Johnny's part and also of girlish indecision as told by Molly, with the proviso that as she tells her tale she is a mother who has lost two sons to war and paid a pretty high price for that earlier indecision. In the final segment we get the inevitable struggle against the vicissitudes of mortality, as told humorously and with a little pathos by Johnny.

This is nicely done and the individual stories are woven together almost seamlessly so that the first event concerning Gid's and Johnny's rivalry for Molly described by Gid in Chapter One gets a very different look as told by Johnny at the end forty years later. Moreover, with some other nice humorous touches added alone the way concerning some of the minor characters like Molly's father and an old goat herder, including animals, as well as exploration of the necessary hardships of running a ranch, a labor-intensive business operation subject to all the randomness of nature. But, better than that we are given an emotional roller coaster ride as these three West Texas characters try to make sense of life, their previous histories and their entanglements together. If "Loop Group" was a low in the literary marathon McMurtry is running then "Leaving Cheyenne" is prima facie evidence for his honored place in the American literary pantheon. Kudos.

How The West Was Won?

DVD Review

Magnificent Seven, 1960

The portrayal of the American cowboy has undergone a dramatic upheaval since the time of my youth in the 1950’s when the image of John Wayne as the Maximum Cowboy held sway. In such films as Red River Valley we were presented with morality plays that displayed white American manhood (and marginally, womanhood) and frontier virtue, etched in starkly black and white terms, from a long gone era. Since then we have been presented with good bad cowboys, bad good cowboys, spaghetti western cowboys, down on their luck corrupt cowboys, end of the line cowboys and gay cowboys. From the classic The Misfits to Brokeback Mountain we have seen the cowboy turn from a simple slow to draw, slow to anger angel of deliverance to a much more nuanced figure on the screen with an internal life almost as conflicted as our own.

No small part in this turnaround has been played by the work of the likes of Larry McMurtry who have taken a deep knowledge of the real West and presented us with a truer vision of what the westward expansion of America was all about. Today however, in the movie under review, The Magnificent Seven (hereafter, the Seven), we hark back to that earlier concept that I mentioned above when all a man needed was a horse, a few weapons of choice and plenty of open space.

The Magnificent Seven, interestingly, was first screened in the early 1960’s in the same period as the Misfits. Both films had plenty of well-acted performances (including by Eli Wallach in both films), understandable, if sparse, dialogue and nice plot lines. However, apart from those similarities they go there separate ways in looking at the heroic figure of the American cowboy and his fate in a modernizing world.

The plot line of the Seven is fairly simple, as is usually the case with old time oaters, as a village of beleaguered Mexican farmers being bled white by a gang of Mexican bad guys seeks help from north of the border. In forming a small army of motley gunfighters to battle against evil Chris (played by Yul Bryner) has gathered in every social type, from pathological killer to raw kid on the make, known to the western. However when the deal goes down the good guys beat the bad guys. Straight up. The cast of actors used to fill the roles of the gunfighters was basically a who’s who of macho male actors, from Bryner to McQueen to Vaughn, of the early 1960’s. Here high testoserone meets a worthy cause.

Although there are plenty of doubts about the virtues of the cowboy lifestyle expressed by the lead cowboys, particularly by Steve McQueen, this film’s central premise is that it takes such types with their well-worn sense of honor to right the wrongs of the little world that they have decided to inhabit. In a sense this is the Last Chance to give meaning to all those macho qualities that we have been told created the vast American West. Adios.