a shot in the dark

Within the first few frames of Andrew Dominik's "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" it is certain that this not a generic western, but instead something a little more audacious and poetically of the times. It's an inspired and visually sumptuous meditation on celebrity, compulsion, and identity. The west in this film is not black and white and full of good natured farmers and evil doers that come to pillage and infiltrate the utopian bubble of the range, but a murky world of mythos, troubled and complicated men, and shades of gray where motivations are clear and present and eventually dangerous. This could be the flawed master work of art that everyone forgets this year because of its inventive celebration of cinema and intelligent themes

It's difficult not to wonder if it's master cinematographer Roger Deakins or the inspired direction of Dominik with whom can be credited with the genius and lush camera work in the film. Deakins expertly and effortlessly lights scenes, shoots through unusual looking lenses that blur the edge of the frame, and looks to the abandoned skies for his visual touchstones. The clouds are always moving and the wheat fields constantly bristle against each other in what could very easily be described as Terrence Malick-esque, but where Malick connects spiritually with nature, Dominik/Deakin look at it as a way to mythologize the personage of Jesse James. He's not saintly but there is something about him that separates him from everyone else. The light hits his haggard and worried eyes a little bit differently, the plains are on fire in his very presence, and the fading sun is a little more melancholy than usual as we see our glorious anti-hero stuck in his own iconography and discontent. He is nothing more than a myth, a dime store novella, a caricature that is fleeting but fearsome and famous. Brad Pitt's clever and soulful performance resonates in a way he's never performed before. In some scenes there is the sense that maybe this is a way for Pitt, an icon and fodder for gossip and pop culture intrigue himself, to come to terms with his own bouts with fame and media attention. He is essentially a product to be bought and sold at the cinemas and checkout aisles in the tabloid section of the neighborhood grocery store, but he's also a human being. The line is greatly indistinct to most and that is the downfall of Jesse James. He too is self-aware of his own brand but the film suggests that he didn't resent it or question it but embraced it and knew the only way to truly solidify his mythic status is by dying for his public. Who is the true coward then? The man burdened by fame or the man desperate for it but too confused of his own identity to truly realize it? The film never says it explicitly, nor should it and that's what makes it such a provocative piece of work. The characters, the cinematography, the portrayal of the west, it's all somewhat lonely and elusive, never proclaiming too much but what's there is smart and immensely watchable.

There's quite a bit to feast on throughout the film on a sensory level but one subtextual point that is explored more obviously in some scenes more than others is the ambiguous sexuality of many of the characters. Robert Ford's intense desire for Jesse James could easily be labeled a repressed homosexual love for his hero, but Casey Affleck's dangerous altar boy looks and awkward ticks and gestures imply that Ford was a confused kid wrapped up in pop adulation and ragingly insecure in his own skin. There is one scene in particular that is reminiscent of a very similar moment in Anthony Minghella's "The Talented Mr. Ripley", an equally stirring take on identity and sexually/morally indeterminate denizens, when Tom Ripley (Matt Damon) lovingly and uncomfortably watches Dickie Greenleaf (Jude Law) bathe. Ford cowers behind a corner watching a steaming and dripping wet James bathe in solitude. He utters something schoolgirlish like, "I've never seen Jesse James without his guns." The equation between guns and the phallus immediately come to mind, giving scene in an interesting tension. You think for a minute Ford wants to jump in with James but he would probably go into convulsions at the sight of a naked and unmasked James. It's that naivete that doesn't make him entirely definable in terms of his sexuality but instead an obsessive fan creepily viewing his idol in a time of vulnerability and repose. However, James allows him to watch, implicating himself in the equation. Who wants and or needs the other more?

The phallus in fact is rampant throughout the film in the form of the name of one of James's gang members, the sizing up of Ford's "pecker", and the gleaming beauty of the nickel plated gun/penis substitute James gives Ford in the last act of the film. In this regard the film is a true western. Men are defined by the size of their gun and what they can do with it. Ford's meek appearance may suggest weakness or performance anxiety but he's involved with several murders in the film, exacting his prowess where ever he goes. The men in the film come across as more concerned with their own guns, literally and symbolically, and less about the women in their lives. The women are relegated to set pieces and are never given proper screen time, except Zooey Deschanel who makes the most of her near cameo role. The most egregious error in the film is the woefully underused Mary-Louise Parker as the doting wife of James. Her part feels edited down as if there were some great scene she had but was content with smiling and preparing meals for the rest of the film. Elements of the film such as this almost detract from how contemporary the film feels.

For a film where the ending is known in the title, there is more than enough to chew on and derive infinite pleasure from the 160 minutes the film commands. A train robbery scene at Blue Cut that opens the film is something worth going back to the theater to observe and Mr. Pitt done up like John McCabe in a bulky fur in the winter portion of the film is something to behold as well. There is something very original and daring about this film that makes it so special that you feel the studio dropped the ball with the slow release (it opened in larger markets almost a month ago and it's still only playing in 163 theaters nationwide) and almost non-existent marketing. This is an art film that recognizes its cinematic exuberance and cultural relevance. The old west has never looked so alien and sad and perhaps the same could be said for how we live now.