I don't know why I'm taking the time to review this waste-of-time movie. If you stick with it long enough in hopes of a satisfying conclusion – good, bad, or surprising – don't. It finally fizzles out after stiff, formulaic, predictable dialogue and acting. Indoor scenes are so harshly lit you think if the camera were zoomed out one millimeter further you'd see the klieg lights. Costumes, hair-do's, and sets are starched, pressed, and immaculate. Are we supposed to imagine common people really lived like that in early 20th-century Arizona? Other reviews' comparisons to Sam Peckinpah are an insult to Peckinpah: at least that director wove his violence into the context of chaos and mayhem. HARD MEN's gore is gratuitous exploding squibs from wooden impersonations of bad guys with manicured fingernails. Huh?!? I can believe Heston thought he might have been making something of worth with this film. (He does get to clutch his gun in his cold fingers.) But Coburn? I'll never guess why he signed up for this travesty. Want to see a movie about the end of the West as we knew it, the end of Westerns as we knew them? Watch THE SHOOTIST or UNFORGIVEN again. THE LAST HARD MEN is a mockery of an obituary to the Western.
Review of The Last Hard Men
