Sean Penn directs Jack Nicholson in The Pledge

Few actors of his generation have received the acclaim accorded Sean Penn. But acclaimed or not, what he really wants to do is direct. Penn's first film, The Indian Runner, showed a real cinematic flair that spoke well for his auteur ambitions. Unfortunately, Penn also wanted to write, and his screenplay for his next film, The Crossing Guard with Jack Nicholson, sabotaged what might have been a worthy successor. This time he has left the writing to others and justifies Nicholson's faith in him.

The Pledge starts off looking like it's going to be a festival of cliches. Nicholson is Jerry Black, an aging Nevada cop reluctantly stepping down but with nowhere to step to. His retirement party is interrupted by a report concerning the grisly murder of a 14-year old girl. Black, who sees nothing to celebrate anyway, tags along to the crime scene. When his less experienced colleagues balk at bringing the bad news to the girl's mother, he volunteers for the assignment.

Holding a cross made by her daughter, the girl's mother asks Black to swear on his "soul's salvation" that he'll find the killer. He accepts the challenge, but the way the scene is played it's hard to believe the mother's words haunt him enough to dominate his life. When the police arrest a mentally retarded Indian for the crime, they consider the case closed after the suspect commits suicide, but Black is not satisfied. He continues the investigation on his own, even going so far as to buy a rundown gas station because it's where the killer's car is believed to have made a stop.

By this time, it becomes clear that the scene between Black and the victim's mother was right on target. Black is not driven by his promise to the mother, but by his own private demons. A lifelong bachelor, his job was his life. The suspects he interrogates, the witnesses he interviews, his fellow police officers--they are his only community. Without his job, he is a man adrift. Scenes of Black fishing alone surrounded by nature's beauty never suggest the tranquility such scenes usually evoke, only isolation and despair. When he takes up with a waitress played by Robin Wright, the relationship only fuels his obsession because Black sees the woman's daughter as bait to lure the killer.

As we watch Black futilely try to hang onto his former life, we are also watching Jack Nicholson return to the kind of role worthy of his talent. After a decade in which the three time Oscar winner spent his time in high profile product requiring little more than his "Jack" persona, Nicholson is an actor again, not an icon. In Jerry Black, you can even hear faint echoes of his earlier roles: the restless Bobby Dupea of Five Easy Pieces, the disillusioned brother of King of Marvin Gardens, and even a touch of J.J. Gittes, the private eye whose morality was no match for the corruption in Chinatown.

We are also watching Sean Penn come into his own as a director. With a talented crew behind him, he fulfills the promise he showed in The Indian Runner. This is a man who may have even studied silent films when preparing to direct because he uses silence beautifully, especially in the memorable scene in which Black tells the victim's mother of her daughter's fate. Not a word is spoken between them, yet the scene has more impact than a dozen car crashes from a dozen lesser films.

Penn also surrounds his star with a first rate cast. Vanessa Redgrave, Robin Wright, and Sam Sheperd, among others, all provide excellent support. Penn even gives Mickey Rourke an opportunity to rehabilitate himself, which he does in an affecting cameo as the murdered girl's father.

The Pledge is being sold as another serial killer thriller. That may be the bait to lure you into the theater, but it's Jerry Black's torment that will stay with you when the lights are turned on.

Brian W. Fairbanks

Originally published at Paris Woman Journal
© 2001 Brian W. Fairbanks



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Gregory Peck in The Gunfigher

The 1950 western The Gunfighter hasn’t quite taken its place alongside Stagecoach and The Searchers as an unassailable classic, but a classic it certainly is. Its admirers included the late John Wayne who apparently never forgave the film’s author, William Bowers, for selling his script to Twentieth Century Fox rather than to the Duke’s own Batjac Productions where he would have starred in it himself. The film also made an impression on Bob Dylan whose epic 1986 ballad, "Brownsville Girl," pays tribute to both the movie and its star.

"There was this movie I seen one time," Dylan sings, "about a man riding across the desert and it starred Gregory Peck." It is only while riding through that vast, barren desert while the credits roll that Peck’s Johnny Ringo knows peace. The moment he enters town, any town, the aging gunfighter’s reputation as the fastest gun alive is a magnet for every young bully with a pistol.

"He only has two hands like the rest of us," one such youth tells his mates upon observing Ringo drinking alone at the bar. Ignoring the advice of his companions to leave the lean stranger alone, the young man quickly becomes the latest notch on Ringo’s gun. All that Ringo wants is to reunite with his wife and their son, settle down, and quietly live out his days, but in the eyes of the people he meets he is a myth come to life, a legend to praise or condemn. The children squeal with excitement knowing that a legendary gunfighter walks amongst them, the guardians of morality sneer at him with contempt and call upon the marshal to kick him out of town, and there’s always another trigger happy gunman eager to become a legend himself by outdrawing the man whose hands are said to be quicker than even Wyatt Earp’s.

Midway through the film, Ringo comes up against his most obnoxious challenger yet, a "squirt" played by Skip Homeier whose wiseguy manner and ever present sneer bring to mind Richard Widmark in Kiss of Death. The "squirt" trails Ringo like cow-dung on a boot heel, taunting him, challenging him to the ultimate contest, one in which the loser pays with his life.

The Dylan song reveals the ending (and its moral) in the first verse, but if you don’t stay with The Gunfighter through its final reel, you’ll miss one of Gregory Peck’s strongest performances. He’s fast all right, but he’s weary, too--tired of a reputation he never sought or respected. Ringo only killed in self-defense but the efficient way in which he did so gave rise to a legend and now makes him a constant target. For reasons beyond his control, self-defense is Ringo’s way of life. It’s a life in which, as Dylan sings, he "must always face his death."

Directed by Henry King from a screenplay by Bowers, The Gunfighter is a morality play that effectively examines the consequences of fame in the Old West. To be king of the mountain is not an end in itself. You must always climb higher to avoid being knocked down by the ones who want to wear your crown. It’s not surprising that this film spoke to the Duke and Dylan, both of whom knew something about the glories and the pitfalls of being the fastest gun in town.

Brian W. Fairbanks

© 1999, Brian W. Fairbanks


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