Reeling Backward: "Quigley Down Under" (1990)

"Quigley Down Under" is the classic example of a terrific concept for a film, horribly executed. The end result is a complete garbage movie, a neo-Western that takes its hero so far out west, he gets turned around to the east.

It's a terrible-looking movie shot without subtlety or style, featuring awful costumes, atrocious acting, an insipid musical score (courtesy of Basil Poledouris) that feels compelled to squawk into every scene with its syrupy strings, stiff dialogue and no coherent directorial aesthetic other than "let's shoot stuff up."

Really the only redeeming thing about it is Alan Rickman as the sniveling bad guy, a bridge villain for the vivacious actor to chew on between Hans Gruber of "Die Hard" and the sheriff in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" the following year.

The project was initially launched in the 1970s based on a script by John Hill, and actually went into production in 1980 with Steve McQueen starring as Matthew Quigley. He's an American sharpshooter who heads to Australia in the 1860s in answer to an advertisement, and ends up in a war with the rancher who wants him to kill Aborigines. But McQueen fell ill on the way to an early demise, and production shut down.

The concept languished until it was revived a decade later with Tom Selleck in the lead, with Simon Wincer directing fresh off the success of "Lonesome Dove" the previous year. Though the script went through many revisions with other writers, Hill retains sole credit.

Both Selleck and Wincer are/were very successful men in the medium of television, which is where they should have stuck. Other than the wide-screen aspect ratio, everything about the look and feel of "Quigley" screams "TV." The characters do not seem to exist outside of their time on the screen, and events roll forward with the sort of fungible logic necessary to point the story in the direction desired.

Example: Quigley undertakes a three-month journey from Wyoming to southwestern Australia based simply on a newspaper ad for the world's best marksman and the promise of $50 in gold upon arrival, without every learning what the actual job entails. When he finds out it's to kill Aborigiones, he promptly punches out the murderous rancher, Elliott Marston (Rickman), and initiates a conflict that will surely end with a heaping helping o' death.

First of all: I bet it cost him more than $50 just to make the trip. Who the hell undertakes such a mammoth voyage on spec, without even bothering to investigate the particulars of the job? We never learn anything about Quigley's life prior to coming to Australia, so he remains an amiable enigma. Any competent screenplay would give him something to run away from.

Second: If you're selling your skills as the world's best long-range rifleman, what exactly do you think is the market for those talents? People don't pay top dollar to shoot coyotes. Assassination seems pretty much the only viable high-return vocation available to him.

Things go along a predictable path, as Quigley tangles with Marston's henchmen right off the boat, and bumps into Crazy Cora (Laura San Giacomo), an unstable Texas woman being coerced into prostitution. She seems deliberately addled for most of the movie, insistently referring to Quigley as "Roy," which we subsequently find out is the name of her husband.

Cora is gifted with a tragic backstory, in which she smothered her own baby in fear of marauding (or not) Indians. But despite Giacomo's talents, the character is presented as more daffy than pitiable. She's the comic relief, instead of the emotional backbone of the piece.

The movie never gets anywhere near the bullseye of Cora's center.

The Aborigines lend them help at various times, and have it returned, but they're never presented as anything more than sanctified noble savages. And silent ones, too: none is given so much as a single line of dialogue.

Marston is a big believer in the quick-draw game, waxing poetic about the new Colt six-shooter, with which he practices daily. Take a wild guess what the final showdown entails.

Quigley, on the other hand, eschews sidearms in favor of a single weapon: the legendary Sharps, a breech-loading single-shot rifle first introduced in 1848, capable of accurate fire up to 1,000 yards in an era when most firefights happened at 50 feet or less. When offered a revolver on several occasion, Quigley refuses, saying he doesn't have much use for them, preferring to swing his Sharps as a cudgel for close combat.

(This is the same arm used by Burt Lancaster in "Valdez Is Coming," which was my entrée into this movie.)

Given Selleck's real-life association with the NRA, the scenes where he coos lovingly about his rifle take on a sinister air. His Sharps is modified to take .45-110 ammo -- which Quigley reloads personally, of course -- with four extra inches of barrel and a Vernier gunsite that allows him to adjust for the wind and such. It also has a double trigger, with the heavier touch setting the lighter one, for minimal movement when firing.

As a single shot weapon, the Sharps represents a bit of a logistical knot when it comes to cinematic storytelling. Because Quigley has to literally open the breech, manually insert a round and cock the lever each time to fire one bullet, that means he can't quickly down multiple targets. So director Wincer has to come up with some pretty cockamamie scenarios to justify his screwy tactics.

When opposed by a knot of men on several occasions, I kept waiting for one of them to shout, "He can only fire one bullet at a time. Rush him!!" But it never happens.

Again, with no backstory provided for Quigley, it's never explained why has this totemic fetish for only using the Sharps. A true weapons master would keep something else handy for close-up work. He's like a knight-errant who thinks he can fight an entire war employing only his lance.

Though, as we will see, when circumstances are forced upon him he's capable (if not enthusiastically willing) of making the swap.

Not surprisingly, "Quigley Down Under" has become a favorite amongst military personnel and long-range gun enthusiasts. Supposedly, the act of lining up two enemies so they can be taken out with a single bullet is colloquially known to U.S. military snipers as "a Quigley." There's even an annual shooting competition held in Montana that bears Quigley's name.

That's more of a legacy than other, better Westerns can boast.

Review: "Lee Daniels' The Butler"

What could have been a searing portrait of race relations in America seen through the eyes of a longtime White House butler instead becomes something like a cheap "Forrest Gump" knockoff.

"Lee Daniels' The Butler" is loosely based on the life of real White House butler Eugene Allen, who served eight presidents from 1952 to 1986. He was a witness to the tumultuous events of the mid-20th century, from school integration to the civil rights upheaval and Vietnam.

Director Daniels and screenwriter Danny Strong, who based the movie on a Washington Post article by Wil Haygood, use this as a basis for the completely fictionalized persona of Cecil Gaines, played by Forest Whitaker. While it starts out as a strong character portrait, it soon morphs into a hard-to-believe sequence of events in which either Cecil or his son is present, Zelig-like, at every single pivotal moment in the civil rights movement.

(And yes, the official title is "Lee Daniels' The Butler" -- the studio even sent out a stern reminder to that effect. Personally I think including the name of a director or author in the title makes them seem incredibly insecure.)

Even worse was the choice to cast well-known actors as the presidents Cecil served. Most of the time they bear not a whit of physical resemblance to the Oval Office occupant they're supposed to represent, and their attempts to mimic their speech or mannerisms fall short. Thus, Robin Williams' Eisenhower seems pinched and feisty, while John Cusack as Nixon (!!) has an itchy, sad quality.

Liev Schreiber does an amusing through pretty standard LBJ parody, and James Marsden adds a New England warp to his vowels as Kennedy. Alan Rickman's Reagan is probably the best of the lot, capturing the Gipper's unseen warmth. Casting Jane Fonda as Nancy Reagan seems like some sort of cruel in-joke, especially when she invites Cecil and his wife to attend a state dinner as their guests just so (it's implied) there will be some diversity in the room.

The main problem with the churning of administrations is none of them hang around long enough to make any substantial impression, so these appearances end up falling just north of cameos. One part where Cecil attends to Jackie Kennedy after the assassination, her clothes still stained with JFK's blood, is a cheap and false moment.

The movie is at its best when it peers at the relationship between Cecil, his often-troublesome marriage to his boozy wife Gloria (Oprah Winfrey), his children and his co-workers. Cuba Gooding Jr. plays the prankster head butler, and Lenny Kravitz is the more sedate wingman. The scenes where the White House staff hang out in the kitchen and back areas are lively and insightful, contributing to an Upstars/Downstairs vibe.

I enjoyed the section where Cecil talks about the two faces of the black house servant. You wear one face that is your own at home and among friends, but when white folks are around you must be non-threatening, indeed a non-entity -- "the room should feel empty when you are in it," Cecil learns.

He even manages to land his White House gig through strident obsequiousness. When a white manager suggests him to the black head butler, the latter takes affront -- and Cecil sides with him, saying he's right to want to hand-pick his own staff. Impressed with the way Cecil can disappear inside himself, he hires him on the spot, commenting that he'll "be a good house n*gger."

The part where Cecil tangles with his oldest son Louis (David Oyelowo) over his evolution into a civil rights activist grows increasingly far-fetched. Louis manages to be at the forefront of virtually every iconic scene from the equal rights movement -- getting beat up at a diner sit-in, having police dogs and firehouses trained on him, being nearly burned alive on a torched Freedom Rider bus, even seguing into the nascent Black Panther movement.

Curiously, the moment when the civil rights era arrives on Cecil's doorstep, the 1963 march on Washington by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and others, is not represented.

I think this ambitious film would have been better off as a rumination on the different paths African-Americans have taken toward equality and respect -- the way of the harsh revolutionary vs. the quiet insider. Instead, its story and emotions wander all over the map of the black experience, never finding a home.

Video review: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1"

A lot of people were upset that the final book in the "Harry Potter" series got split into two movies.

]Personally, I don't mind. At 2½ hours, Part 1 of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" is so jam-packed with narrative, it's hard to imagine what a mess it would've been if the filmmakers had tried to cram in a few hundred more pages of story.

Not even the most powerful spell could've saved the movie.

As it is, this penultimate finale to the saga of a boy wizard battling his evil nemesis moves along at a crisp pace under the steady hands of director David Yates and screenwriter Steve Kloves, who collaborated on the last three Harry Potter movies.

Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters have effectively taken over the government of the wizarding world, and begun a reign of terror aimed at killing Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Grint). Their mission is to find the Horcruxes in which Voldemort has split up pieces of his soul, rendering him effectively immortal.

The mood is darker than previous Potter films, and it's nice to see the series growing up with the young trio of actors at its center.

Video extras are rather paltry with the DVD version, but an upgrade to the Blu-ray/DVD combo brings a wealth of goodies. The DVD contains only eight deleted/extended scenes totaling 11 minutes.

The centerpiece of the Blu-ray is a "Maximum Movie Mode" -- an interactive feature of pop-up scenes detailing various features of the production, hosted by actor Jason Isaacs (Lucius Malfoy). There are other featurettes on topics like an on-set competition between the three stars, a round of golf in which Rupert Grint and others reflect on the series, and the making of the soundtrack.

The combo pack also includes a digital copy of the film, and a sneak preview of "Part 2."

Please note, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1" will be released on video Friday, April 15.

Movie: 3 stars out of four
Extras: 3 stars

Review: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1"

Right off the bat, the final chapter of the Harry Potter saga -- well, the first half of it, anyway -- broadcasts that its mood will be substantially darker than its predecessors. War is come, and wizards, witches and non-magical muggles alike are battening down the hatches.

For me, the seriousness of the outing was underlined when Hermione cast a spell to "obliviate" herself from her muggle parents' memories, in order to protect them from reprisal at the hands of Lord Voldemort's forces. Watching her portrait fade from the family photographs, and knowing what she's giving up, is unsettling and grave.

I also appreciated that the blooming of teenage romance, so annoyingly pushed on us during "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," is appropriately tamped down. Harry and new love Ginny Weasley share one quick snog, and then she's thankfully given the boot for the rest of the movie. Even the Hermione/Ron Weasley quickening is mercifully kept at a low boil.

It didn't even occur to me until after "Deathly Hallows" was over -- and I should point out its 2½ hours fly by at a brisk pace -- that Hogwarts School, which has been the focal point of the entire series, is never glimpsed, or even mentioned.

The wand-wielding kids are all grown up, and school is most definitely out.
If you're not up to speed on the chronicle of the boy wizard, his friends and his evil nemesis ... well, then head to the video store or fire up your Netflix account, because you've no chance of catching on at this late date without seeing the other movies.

The last film ended with the death of benevolent schoolmaster Dumbledore, and the revelation that Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes, in slithery makeup) has divided his soul into several objects called Horcruxes. It's up to Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Grint) to find the rest of them, and destroy them.

Meanwhile, Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters have taken over the Ministry of Magic -- the central government for the wizarding world -- and begun a reign of terror designed to weed out those wizards and witches not of pure blood, and to trap Harry and friends.

For non-readers of the books by J.K. Rowling (like me), it's difficult to keep track of the dozens of tertiary characters who flit in and out of the background. Pretty much all of them who aren't dead show up at some point, and a few of them are killed off.
One doomed character, whose name I won't reveal, hasn't been seen since about the third Potter movie. So to suddenly bring them back and then off them deprives their death of any emotional impact.

Director David Yates, who's helmed the last three Potter movies, and screenwriter Steve Kloves, who's penned all but one of the series, keep things moving along at a zippy tempo that focuses on the relationship between the Big Trio. The only place the story bogs down a bit is toward the middle, when the three are wandering in exile. The simmering conflict between Harry and Ron over Hermione's affections feels ginned up.

I will confess I'm not a big fan of Rowling's shoddy storytelling. Her imagination is great -- too great, in fact. Whenever the kids are presented with a problem, there's always a new spell, or a new magic object, or a new ally that pops up to aid them. Her story construction doesn't have an airtight feel because she always invents a new backdoor for her characters to wiggle out of.

For example, somewhere in the last couple of movies they've introduced a spell to "apparate," or teleport instantly from one place to another, along with those touching the caster. If so, why do they bother with broomsticks to get around? For that matter, why did Harry and all the kids have to climb aboard a special train to get to Hogwarts that first time? Wouldn't it be much easier to send a few wizards to poof all the kids there instantly? 

But that's just my muggle mind talking.

3 stars out of four