Reeling Backward: "Thunderbolt and Lightfoot"

Clint Eastwood planned to direct "Thunderbolt and Lightfoot" himself, but then he met Michael Cimino, the young screenwriter who had written the script for "Magnum Force," the second Dirty Harry movie and a big hit.

Road pictures and Eastwood were both hot commodities in the early 1970s, and Cimino had been commissioned by agent Stan Kamen to do a script on spec with the squinty star in mind.

Eastwood, who'd already directed three movies himself by then, decided to let Cimino have his shot, leading to his first feature film as a director. His second movie behind the camera was "The Deer Hunter," winning him a pair of Oscars by the age of 40. His next was "Heaven's Gate," which ended his brief tenure as an A-list filmmaker. He made four more movies, none of them consequential.

I'd been meaning to see this buddy crime caper for years, and came away a teeny bit disappointed. It's now out in a handsome Blu-ray edition that's well worth a look.

It's a fine movie, and the screen relationship between Eastwood and Jeff Bridges is just as lovely and spirited as I'd hoped. Or at least it starts out promising.

Eastwood is Thunderbolt, an expert in breaking into banks vaults using a 20mm cannon, hence the nickname. As the story opens he's been hiding out as a preacher in a tiny unnamed town in Big Sky country.

Bridges is Lightfoot, a young hotshot car thief/rapscallion, who wandered off on his own as a youth and never stopped moving. He's repeatedly referred to as a hippie, though his clothing and hair is actually closer to Tony Manero from "Saturday Night Fever." He steals, has a good time with women and booze until the money runs out, then repeats the cycle.

Somehow these opposing personalities just click. Thunderbolt is an aging Korean War vet whose body is crisscrossed with scars, including a badly burned foot that requires a walking brace. He keeps to himself and speaks only when necessary, won't run from a fight but doesn't seek one out, either. Lightfoot is a gadly and gadabout who loves to laugh and avoid conflict whenever possible.

They meet when Thunderbolt literally jumps into the hot rod Lightfoot has just stolen while being shot at by a former member of his bank robbing gang. They pulled off a big job at the Montana Armory a couple of years earlier, and events transpired that the others mistakenly think Thunderbolt kept all the loot for himself.

(They never seem to question why 1) if Thunderbolt had the money he'd pretend to be a poor podunk pastor instead of living the high life behind guarded walls, and 2) they should just just kill him instead of trying to get the money back.)

Lightfoot almost immediately suggests they become friends and pull off some jobs together. Thunderbolt enjoys the younger man's innocence and pep. It's the start of a great Butch/Sundance type of partnership, and I looked forward to accompanying them on their bromance journey.

Unfortunately, the duo becomes a quartet and the movie morphs into a fairly straightforward heist flick, as they plan the job and then watch everything blow up in their faces.

I'm sort of astonished that "Thunderbolt and Lightfoot" is often described as a comedy. Certainly there are hijinx and laugh-out-loud moments. But it's also a movie with sadness and anger at its core.

The latter is personified in Red Leary, a thoroughly nasty piece of work played by George Kennedy. He's the one who wants to assassinate Thunderbolt for pure sake of revenge. They were friends from back in Korea, and each man claims the other saved his life.

At one point Red is asked why he's willing to sacrifice everything instead of just letting go and living his own life, and he responds that because he was (he thought) betrayed by a friend, no other choice was possible. If a stranger did him wrong, he'd probably let it slide if there was no benefit in pursuing retribution.

Red and Thunderbolt hash out their differences in a fistfight, then resolve to rejoin forces along with Goody (Geoffrey Lewis), their submissive wheel man. Lightfoot replaces Dunlop (Roy Jensen), the electronics expert who tried to kill Thunderbolt in the opening sequence and got busted up for his trouble.

It seems the one-room schoolhouse where Thunderbolt and the deceased gang leader stashed the loot was torn down and replaced with a modern building, meaning they have nothing to show for the biggest score of their lives. It's Lightfoot who suggests they pull the same job all over again using the same M.O.

Red takes an instant dislike to Lightfoot, egged on by the latter's teasing and devil-may-care attitude, and threatens repeatedly to do him in when the job is over.

At this point the movie wandered away from me, as the men take jobs in town so they can build a stake while planning the robbery. A few notable actors make appearances here including Gary Busey, Vic Tayback, Jack Dodson, Dub Taylor and "dem teef" background player Burton Gilliam. Catherine Bach turns up as a romantic fling for Lightfoot in a pre-"Dukes of Hazzard" role.

The fatal flaw that trips up the execution of the heist is sneaking into a drive-in movie theater near the armory with Goody and Red hiding in the trunk. The manager spots Red's shirttail hanging out the back and thinks extra people are sneaking in without tickets, setting off the commotion that puts the cops on their tail.

For veteran cons you'd think they'd instead try to get away from the scene of the crime as fast as they can. Or just have Goody and Red sit up front and buy two more tickets. But maybe it worked last time, so they're slaves to the tried-and-true.

"Thunderbolt and Lightfoot" is a notable car movie. Lightfoot repeatedly "acquires" new vehicles to throw people off their trail, so the movie has a hefty listing on the Internet Movie Cars Database. Dunlop rolls up in a black 1959 Cadillac, a model I'm well acquainted with, and things go from there.

At various points the boys drive a '73 Buick Riviera as well as a Pontiac Firebird and a Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado, both of the same year.

In the film's looniest sequence, the pair are hitchhiking and get picked up by a madman driving a 1973 Plymouth Fury that has been jacked up with racing tires, who immediately careens around the road like a stuntman and intentionally rolls the car over. He then springs the trunk revealing that it is filled to the brim with white rabbits. He's played by Bill McKinney, forever the "squeal like a pig" hillbilly from "Deliverance."

It's a fun bit, but it's bizarreness for its own sake.

The most memorable car of the story is Goody's slate gray 1951 Mercury Coupe, which we suspect has been souped up by the way it keeps up with all the modern cars. It gets put through all sorts of paces, including jumps off cliffs and smashing into multiple police cars during the last desperate chase scene.

The film ends on a major downer note, with everyone in the gang dead but Thunderbolt. Red made good on his promise, repeatedly kicking Lightfoot in the head to cause fatal brain damage. Goody gets shot through the trunk lid and Red is mauled by a guard dog at the store he crashes into, ironically the same place he'd been working as a janitor for his cover job.

The injured Lightfoot and Thunderbolt muddle along for awhile, with the young man growing increasingly dizzy and his speech slurred. They stumble upon the one-room schoolhouse, which had been moved to an interstate rest stop historical display, and recover the half-million from the first heist.

Thunderbolt rides off into the sunset, his friend and partner dead and all the threats against him dissolved. What sort of life lies before him? The movie offers only stubborn ambiguity and the obligatory sad ballad for the soundtrack.

"You know something? I don't think of us as criminals, you know? I feel we accomplished something. A good job. I feel proud of myself, man. I feel like a hero," Lightfoot opines, right before slumping over dead.

"Thunderbolt and Lightfoot" accomplished less than it could. There's a great movie in there, one where Red is a peripheral villain and the duo arrives at their denouement all on their own, having passed through the fire and come out changed men.

Nothing ruins a good buddy movie like interlopers.

Reeling Backward: "Barbarosa"

"Barbarosa" is one of my all-time favorite Westerns. Most people haven't even heard of it, other than maybe that it was a movie starring Willie Nelson, whose film career didn't exactly set any fires.

It's a strange and moving tale about love and hate, redemption and myth-making. Nelson plays Barbarosa ("Red Beard" in Spanish), an aging bandito who wanders around the Texas-Mexico border robbing and running from a blood debt. He hooks up with a naive farm boy on the run, played by Gary Busey, and they have adventures before Barbarosa's past finally catches up with him.

I guess what I like most about this film is that it looks like a simple adventure movie but has a deep undertow of themes and subtext. It's much like "The Road Warrior," which came out around the same time as this one: There's a not a lot of dialogue, but what is left unsaid speaks volumes.

Over time the boy -- I say "boy" because that's what they refer to Karl Westover as in the film, even though Busey was nearly 40 when he played the role -- learns the details of Barbarosa's dreadful past. He became an outlaw protecting the Zavala clan from his own Texas Rangers, and fell in love with the daughter of the Mexican family patriarch, Don Braulio (Gilbert Roland).

Resentful of the gringo interloping in his family, Don Braulio had two of his clansmen assault Barbarosa on his wedding night, cutting off his ears. In revenge, Barborsa killed the men and shot off Don Braulio's leg. This earned him the name Red Beard, for in Don Braulio's version -- which he repeats incessantly to the children of his hacienda -- his son-in-law's beard turned from blonde to blood-red that night.

That was 30 years ago, and Barbarosa's beard is more gray than anything else these days. One by one Don Braulio has been sending out the best men of his clan to slay Barbarosa, and all have died in the attempt. Although now he has a steely-eyed youngster who may finally be up to the job.

Even though they only share one scene together, Nelson and Roland's emnity is the fire that heats the entire story. Both Barbarosa and Don Braulio see themselves as the aggrieved party, and is unwilling to lay aside his sense of honor -- even if their own family is hurt in the process. It's a nurturing process, except that it's their hatred that they carefully protect and keep nourished.

"All I ever wanted was to be a part of this family!" Barbarosa accuses. "And now you're not a part of this family?!?" Don Braulio indignantly responds.

I should mention that Roland had a long and illustrious acting career that stretched nearly 60 years. He was one of the few Mexican actors who found mainstream success in Hollywood, including a string of movies playing the Cisco Kid in the 1940s. "Barbarosa" was his last film.

Schepisi was one of the Australian New Wave wunderkinds who soon moved to making movies in Hollywood; "Barbarosa" was his first American film, and arguably Schepisi ("Six Degrees of Separation," "Roxanne") had the most illustrious career of the new Aussies -- with the probable exception of Peter Weir ("Witness," "Dead Poets Society," "Master and Commander").

The original screenplay was by William Wittliff, whose other works include "The Black Stallion," "Honeysuckle Rose" (also starring Nelson), "Legends of the Fall" and "The Perfect Storm." I love the naturalistic language of his dialogue, which sounds like authentic cowboy-speak:

Karl: "I killed a man."
Barbarosa: "Well, that ain't no high recommendation."
"He was a great big sumbitch; he was twice as big as me."
"Well, ol' Sam Colt makes everybody just about the same size."
"I hit him with a stick. I didn't use no Colt."

There's also a memorable bit where Barbarosa explains his theory of gunfighting. This comes soon after he meets Karl and is attacked by a Zavala assassin, calmly killing the man while standing stone still -- even after a bullet grazes his cheek.

"Keep your feet planted till you've done all the shooting you're doing to do. Nothing makes a man more nervous than somebody standing still when they oughtta be running like a spotted-ass ape."

A low-budget film, "Barbarosa" has a great feel for the sights and sounds of the late 19th-century border, from the chirping trumpet music to Barbarosa's slouchy hat, which looks like a cross between a sombrero and a Texas 10-galloner. There's also a neat trick he does with his Appaloosa horse, turning him around in place before taking off.

The last thing I'd like to talk about is the myth-making process. In many post-Golden Age Westerns, there's a conscious attempt to examine the way in which the gunfighters and bandits of the Old West gained their place in lore. In some films, like "Unforgiven," there's a character who's a writer or journalist who comments on the action and actively tries to build up the legend of events as soon as they've happened -- and even before.

In "Barbarosa," the hero himself is the primary author of his own legend. He actively engages in perpetuating his own story, especially supernatural tales about his habit of coming back from the dead.

In one famous scene, he is shot in the stomach by a fellow outlaw and falls into a grave Karl had been digging at his behest. When no one is watching, Barbarosa escapes while Karl fills in the empty hole. Despite the bullet in his belly, Barbarosa pauses that night to steal the bandits' gold and bury their leader in the sand up to his neck. When he gets back to town, he's pleased as punch to hear a song detailing how they exchanged places in the earth.

No doubt it was to his advantage to have his adversaries afraid of him, but watching the movie you can sense that Barbarosa revels in being a living myth. He plans to use all the gold he's stolen over the years to settle down with his wife and daughter, but of course the family trouble prevents that. The film ends with Karl taking up the horse, hat and mantle of Barbarosa to carry the legend on to a new generation.

4 stars