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THE WILD BUNCHby Robert A. Nowotny
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way — in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Unchanged men in a changing land. Out of step, out of place and desperately out of time.
There is a school of thought that insists that no art of any quality can possibly be produced inside a commercial structure whose principal aim is profit. Although Peckinpah worked within the mainstream Hollywood studio system with all of its built–in constraints and corporate cultures, he consistently found ways to accommodate his masters while bringing to the screen not only universally–avowed artistic triumphs, but motion pictures with profound personal viewpoints and multi–layered subtexts which operated on several levels all at once. In this regard Peckinpah stands alongside Alfred Hitchcock, Howard Hawks, Nicholas Ray and John Ford as one of America's most noteworthy, recalcitrant and complex filmmakers. In more recent times, only Oliver Stone has, perhaps, earned a comparable reputation.
Irascible, impulsive, irrational, both on and off the set, Peckinpah fully realized that the Western was the one genre that would enable this auteur to express himself and his political beliefs more freely than with any other type of motion picture. (The only other possibility would be Science Fiction).
A salute, then, to Mr. Sam Peckinpah and to nonconformists everywhere... |
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