Reeling Backward: "Molly and Lawless John" (1972)

"Well, you ain't much. But you're a helluva lot better than nothin'."
                       --John Lawler

I'm not sure if "Molly and Lawless John" fits in with the so-called "Acid Western" genre that I've only recently stumbled across. I'm starting to get the sense that it's a very loosely defined collection of films that spanned only a handful of years. It seems more like an idea that was only retroactively applied to a very disparate sort of cowboy pictures.

The late, great Pauline Kael coined the term in her 1971 review of "El Topo," which I think may be the only movie everyone can say without reservation deserves that label. Maybe also Jim Jarmusch's much-later "Dead Man" -- a film that receives the highest critical censure I have to offer: "unwatchable."

"Molly" is interesting for a few reasons. First, it features Sam Elliott in one of his earliest starring roles. Like Spencer Tracy and a handful of other fine actors akin to himself, Elliott seems like he was born middle-aged, his mien gaining more and more character as it assumed an increasingly craggy appearance.

But here he is, still in his 20s, smooth-faced and lacking his iconic mustache (aside from a beard his character grows midway through the story, which I suspect was a face merkin).

How powerful is the imagery of Elliott's upper lip hairs? Do a search for photos related to this movie and you'll find that the film has been reissued on video a number of times with DVD covers and posters that depict an older, bountifully mustachioed Elliott. One of them is so recent, the actor must've been at least 60 at the time.

John Lawler is actually referred to as "just a boy" by the main character, Molly, a forlorn sheriff's wife edging up against motherless middle age played by Vera Miles. The setup is that he's captured after robbing a bank, killing several men in the process, and her husband, Marvin Parker (John Anderson), puts him in his jail until the judge can arrive to authorize the stringing up.

Molly, like a lot of sheriff's wives in the movies, has an unofficial capacity as cleaner of the jail and feeder of the prisoners. She loiters in these errands, clearly intrigued by the rangy cowpoke making eyes at her, and they steal a few quick conversations.

She then arranges to send off the tired deputy on guard duty so they can have a few hours alone together, and John sweet-talks her mercilessly, saying she favors his mother with her long brown hair, and he regrets that he'll swing from a rope without getting to see her have the child she so desperately wants -- and that he could help her have, unlike that crusty old sheriff.

She doesn't take much convincing to bust him out, and off they ride together, dodging posses and having adventures. It's soon quite clear that John's affections for her extended only so far as her ability to get him out of certain death. He even tells her so, quite explicitly, that he lied to her to save her neck.

Yet Molly retains a grim, doomed hope that the bandit will turn out to be the man of her dreams she thought the sheriff would be. He even ditches her on several occasions, only to return. In one sequence he leaves her stranded alone in the desert, and when his horses appears over the dune a few days later, the gullible, parched woman even smiles at him.

Just as our pity for Molly has started to curdle toward distaste, she starts to show some backbone. When an American Indian squaw with a newborn babe stumbles upon them and promptly dies, Molly latches onto the infant with ferocious, if passive determination. It's immediately evident that she views this as her last, best opportunity for motherhood.

She names him "Little John" and makes it clear she wants big John to act like a father to him. He seems ready to put the boy on a spit and roast him, though he does (albeit briefly) show him some tenderness, when Molly has to go into town to pick up supplies and run an errand on his behalf.

It turns out this chore is the breaking point. Molly is to seek out Dolly (Cynthia Myers), a whore that he traffics with whenever he passes her way. In Dolly Molly sees the same neediness and dependence that has come to define her own interaction with him. John actually makes Molly and the baby sit on the stoop outside their hideout shack while and he and Dolly have extended, celebratory sex.

The next time John's fickle moods bend southward, Molly has finally toughened up enough to take a genuine stand in the sand. "I loved you..." are her parting -- and for him, final -- words.

This was the first feature film for director Gary Nelson, a television veteran who would go on to helm some notable pictures including "Freaky Friday" and "The Black Hole." The version I saw (via Amazon streaming) had apparently been cropped on the sides to play on TV, resulting in a nearly square image that I'm sure left off some important panoramic vistas. "Molly" has a spare, cinema verite sort of beauty.

The screenplay, the only one by erstwhile actor Terry Kingsley-Smith, has a great premise but doesn't really flesh out the characters enough. John in particular remains largely an enigma, his actions swinging this way and that along with his regard for Molly. He's a user, only caring for people as far as they can do for him. But Elliott's face shows several flashes where it seems like he's tempted by her stubborn goodness -- particularly the way she always seems to have faith in his ability to change, despite all evidence to the contrary.

I'm not sure if they're intentional, but there are some tinges of proto-feminist themes in this movie. Molly remains the clear central character throughout, and John is the external force that plows into her life and shakes things up. Starting out as a passive wallflower who wants only to be a mommy, by the end she's a seasoned veteran of the open range, her hair shorn, her face sun-blasted and her demeanor abrupt and commanding.

Miles had a long and distinguished career, doubtlessly best known for playing the snooping sister in "Psycho" -- a role she reprised in the regrettable sequel nearly a quarter-century later.

She was hardly a stranger to Westerns, playing a key role in "The Searchers." After this film she made two other family-themed Westerns in quick succession, "One Little Indian" and pairing with James Garner in "The Castaway Cowboy." She largely returned to her roots in TV after that, remaining active into the 1990s. (And, at nearly 90, she's still with us.)

"Molly and Lawless John" isn't a great movie or even a particularly good one, but it's an interesting time capsule of how the most venerable of film genres was aging after the apex of the counter-culture. It may not be acid, but it's a strange trip.

Bonus video review: "Return of the Living Dead" on Blu-ray

I was astonished when, in recent years, I kept hearing 1985's "Return of the Living Dead" referred to as a comedy. Sure, I thought, there are plenty of schlocky moments, silly humor and camp dialogue. This is, after all, a movie in which one of the main characters does an impromptu striptease in a graveyard, and spends the rest of the film naked -- even after she's turned into a zombie.

But a straight-out comedy? This was one of the seminal movie experiences of my teen years, a turning point where I realized that cheap, bloody horror films can be as integral a part of your cinematic diet as Ingmar Bergman, Woody Allen and Ridley Scott.

Speaking of Ridley Scott, the progeny of "Living Dead" is interesting. Dan O'Bannon, who wrote the screenplay for 1979's "Alien," directed by Scott, stepped behind the camera for this film. John Russo, who co-wrote the screenplay for George A. Romero's "Night of the Living Dead," had a dispute with his old partner.

They resolved their differences by essentially splitting the zombie cannon between them, with Romero's subsequent pictures using the suffix "of the Dead," while Russo's would be branded "of the Living Dead."

These two writers, O'Bannon and Russo, got together to create what is, for my money, one of the all-time great zombie flicks. The disturbing violence, which somehow managed to muster an R rating from the MPAA, coupled with some terrific creature effects (on a budget of $4 million), and the aforementioned naked zombie girl combined to make an indelible imprint on my impressionable young mind.

The series would go on to spawn four sequels, none of which O'Bannon or Russo had anything to do with -- not that they were missing out on any glory.

Romero has enjoyed something of a revival in the last decade, which has lead to the Living Dead movies being denigrated as inferior castoffs from the Church of Zombiology. I don't know why; I think "Return of the Living Dead" is vastly superior to Romero's "Day of the Dead," which came out the same year. And 2005's "Land of the Dead" was so uninspiring I haven't even bothered to watch the other two that have come out since.

"Return of the Living Dead" has finally received a sumptuous Blu-ray release. If you're a fan of this movie, or just zombie flicks in general, this edition falls into don't-miss category.

It comes with a making-of documentary, a featurette on designing the film, another featurette about horror films of that era, special zombie subtitles and theatrical trailers. There are also two separate commentary tracks -- one by O'Bannon and production designer William Stout, and another by cast and crew.

O'Bannon cheerily admits in these extras that he intended the film as a comedy, but in their commentaries the cast talk about playing it straight. (With the notable exception of James Karen, whose over-the-top theatrics added a bit of hammy hot sauce to the proceedings.)

Despite the director's opinion, I still regard it as a genuinely horrifying movie that happens to have a lot of humor in it, rather than a comedy.

The zombies of "Return of the Living Dead" depart in ways great and small from the classic, Romero-style zombie.

The most noticeable of these is the first known appearance of "fast" zombies. Until then, zombies were always slow, shuffling creatures. That was part of their appeal as monsters -- they weren't very fast, and any able human could outrun them, but they were relentless.

There has since come to be a great debate among horror devotees about "fast" vs. "slow" zombies, though at this point only Romero still appears to be employing the slow kind. Even the 2004 remake of Romero's "Dawn of the Dead" featured fast zombies.

O'Bannon and Russo's zombies are also much more intelligent. They retain their ability to speak and reason, at least to a limited degree. In one of the film's most memorable scenes, a zombie gets on the CB of an ambulance and tricks the dispatcher, asking her to "send more paramedics." In another, a green female zombie -- well, her top half anyway, the rest of her having been hacked off above the pelvis -- is strapped to a table and interrogated.

Why do you eat brains, she is asked. "The pain ... the pain of being dead," she moans. Eating fresh human brains makes the pain go away, at least for awhile. This would differentiate these zombies from classic Romero ones, which were essentially cannibals who feasted upon the entire body.

Another thing to note is that in "Return of the Living Dead," being bitten by a zombie does not turn you into one -- only exposure to a deadly chemical developed by the military. In this way, the infestation of zombies is somewhat limited. Even though the gas can be spread through the air or seep into the ground through rain, the outbreak won't be exponential.

Also, these zombies are more resilient to damage. Piercing the brain or beheading the zombie does not stop them. The individual pieces keep coming after you. (Though I'm not sure what a disembodied foot would gain from killing, since it has no way to eat and thus relieve the pain of being dead.) They can only be destroyed by being completely reduced to ash, melted in acid, etc.

Of course, in the end the military solves its little problem by nuking the entire town of Louisville, where the story is set (though it was shot in Los Angeles).

The film just looks terrific in hi-def, and I noticed several details I'd missed before. For example, the half-zombie leaks spinal fluid from her "tail" during her interrogation, forming a nasty little clear pool of goo. Linnea Quigley's famous nude dance on a grave included a modesty insert to cover her most private regions. (In the commentary, she refers to it as a "plug" ... yargh!)

And the Tarman -- the deliciously slimy zombie/skeleton -- has never seemed more repulsive. I was surprised to learn that it was not an animatronic piece like I always thought, but an actor (Allan Trautman) wearing a special suit. For his beheading scene, they simply hired a shorter actor who had to wear the same, smelly outfit.

O'Bannon and Russo may have intended it as a comedy, but I still don't put "Return of the Living Dead" in the same category as "Shaun of the Dead" or "Zombieland." It's just too damn gory, too scary and too frackin' good to be dismissed as a zom com.

Movie: 4 stars out of four
Extras: 3.5 stars out of four