It covers a lot of territory and, frankly, I got a little lost from time to time but it's still tightly woven, driven by character, and likable.
The production design, wardrobe, and makeup are distinctive. None of this grimy, cowboys-on-the-trail, unshaven, spitoon-abusing nonsense. These guys, even the Clantons, who are ranchers, are sleek and relatively formally groomed. Silky vests, neat hats, string ties, and color-coordinated ensembles abound. The word "gentleman" crops up repeatedly in the dialog. No big ugly guns. Lee Van Cleef carries a derringer in his boot. Doc Holliday carries what looks like a .32 caliber popgun.
On the other hand, Lee Van Cleef is a drunken, treacherous bad guy. So is Jack Elam. Lyle Bettger, as the head of the Clanton clan, is a cattle thief, liar, and bushwhacker. Does that give you any hints about stereotypical casting? No? How about Burt Lancaster as Wyatt Earp and Kirk Douglas as the morally ambiguous but highly honorable Doc Holliday? And Dennis Hopper as the weakling Billy Clanton? John Ireland playing Johnny Ringo -- yet again? Ted DeCorsia -- he of the pebbled voice -- as a rude, drunken coward? It's difficult to confuse the heroes and the heavies because they look as if they'd come from different universes. Maybe that's one reason why, despite its length and territorial peregrinations, the plot never really confuses you too much. One look at a character and right away you've got his number. It doesn't matter too much where you are or what motives drive anyone. One bad guy is pretty much interchangeable with the others.
Admirable though are the edgy and sometimes uncomfortable relationships that Holliday has with Wyatt Earp and Holliday's girl friend Kate, played by Jo Van Fleet. In a way it's really Kirk Douglas's picture. He's by far the most complex character in it. Lancaster's Wyatt Earp and his brothers are dull straight-shooters. But Douglas drinks too much, gambles constantly, kills men in duels, is jealous of women even after he throws them away, and is coughing himself to death. How come? (We don't have to ask why Wyatt is the way he is. He's the hero in a Western.) Candidate for next most complicated: Dennis Hopper's young, misguided Billy Clanton. The script even gives him a loving mother, and not just ANY mother but Olive Carey to boot.
What are these "affairs of honor" anyway? The code duello was real enough, brought to the ante-bellum South by the cavaliers who settled the region, and then spread westward into Texas and the Southwest. Someone insults someone else and the two men kill one another. And it still exists, if only in fantasy. There are quick-draw contests held at regional and state fairs in which grown men assume odd positions and see who can draw and pull the trigger faster while being automatically timed. Do any of the contestants secretly wish that THEY could have lived in the Old West and outdrawn everyone who insulted them? Compared to figuring out a fantasy like that, understanding Doc Holliday is like two plus two.
At the end of the shootout at the O.K. Corral, bad Johnny Ringo, pursued by Kirk Douglas's Holliday, stumbles into an adobe hut, pistol pointed at the door he just slammed. But Douglas appears suddenly in the open window and plugs him to death. In the Mad Magazine parody, "O. K., Gunfight at the Corral," Ringo stumbles into the hut, slams the door, and thinks to himself, "I guess I'm okay for now. There's nothing in this room. It's empty except for that picture of Van Gogh on the wall." But it's not a self portrait of Vincent Van Gogh. It's Kirk Douglas with a little beard and a straw hat -- and he plugs Ringo anyway.
Overall, nicely staged, preened and pruned, Hollywood professionalism near the top of its game.
The production design, wardrobe, and makeup are distinctive. None of this grimy, cowboys-on-the-trail, unshaven, spitoon-abusing nonsense. These guys, even the Clantons, who are ranchers, are sleek and relatively formally groomed. Silky vests, neat hats, string ties, and color-coordinated ensembles abound. The word "gentleman" crops up repeatedly in the dialog. No big ugly guns. Lee Van Cleef carries a derringer in his boot. Doc Holliday carries what looks like a .32 caliber popgun.
On the other hand, Lee Van Cleef is a drunken, treacherous bad guy. So is Jack Elam. Lyle Bettger, as the head of the Clanton clan, is a cattle thief, liar, and bushwhacker. Does that give you any hints about stereotypical casting? No? How about Burt Lancaster as Wyatt Earp and Kirk Douglas as the morally ambiguous but highly honorable Doc Holliday? And Dennis Hopper as the weakling Billy Clanton? John Ireland playing Johnny Ringo -- yet again? Ted DeCorsia -- he of the pebbled voice -- as a rude, drunken coward? It's difficult to confuse the heroes and the heavies because they look as if they'd come from different universes. Maybe that's one reason why, despite its length and territorial peregrinations, the plot never really confuses you too much. One look at a character and right away you've got his number. It doesn't matter too much where you are or what motives drive anyone. One bad guy is pretty much interchangeable with the others.
Admirable though are the edgy and sometimes uncomfortable relationships that Holliday has with Wyatt Earp and Holliday's girl friend Kate, played by Jo Van Fleet. In a way it's really Kirk Douglas's picture. He's by far the most complex character in it. Lancaster's Wyatt Earp and his brothers are dull straight-shooters. But Douglas drinks too much, gambles constantly, kills men in duels, is jealous of women even after he throws them away, and is coughing himself to death. How come? (We don't have to ask why Wyatt is the way he is. He's the hero in a Western.) Candidate for next most complicated: Dennis Hopper's young, misguided Billy Clanton. The script even gives him a loving mother, and not just ANY mother but Olive Carey to boot.
What are these "affairs of honor" anyway? The code duello was real enough, brought to the ante-bellum South by the cavaliers who settled the region, and then spread westward into Texas and the Southwest. Someone insults someone else and the two men kill one another. And it still exists, if only in fantasy. There are quick-draw contests held at regional and state fairs in which grown men assume odd positions and see who can draw and pull the trigger faster while being automatically timed. Do any of the contestants secretly wish that THEY could have lived in the Old West and outdrawn everyone who insulted them? Compared to figuring out a fantasy like that, understanding Doc Holliday is like two plus two.
At the end of the shootout at the O.K. Corral, bad Johnny Ringo, pursued by Kirk Douglas's Holliday, stumbles into an adobe hut, pistol pointed at the door he just slammed. But Douglas appears suddenly in the open window and plugs him to death. In the Mad Magazine parody, "O. K., Gunfight at the Corral," Ringo stumbles into the hut, slams the door, and thinks to himself, "I guess I'm okay for now. There's nothing in this room. It's empty except for that picture of Van Gogh on the wall." But it's not a self portrait of Vincent Van Gogh. It's Kirk Douglas with a little beard and a straw hat -- and he plugs Ringo anyway.
Overall, nicely staged, preened and pruned, Hollywood professionalism near the top of its game.