Robert Mulligan, the director, handled this tale of revenge adroitly. It's Indians on the warpath again but this time the motive is reversed. Gregory Peck is a scout for the U. S. Army that has defeated the Apache and liberated one of his white captive wives, Saint, and their son.
Peck's last assignment is to see that Saint and the boy are sent back East. The cavalry rides off, leaving Peck to buy the freed captives a railroad ticket to safety but there are problems. One is that Saint has been a captive so long that she no longer has any family or friends to return to. Another is that Saint and her son have a tendency to sit as still and quietly as a couple of Polynesian tikis. What's a man to do? Peck is a tough, seasoned Westerner himself and not given to sympathy or palaver but he can't bring himself to pack his companions off to nowhere. So he invites them to join him at his cabin in New Mexico, now being tended only by a surly old man. Saint and the boy have learned to do what they're told. They're joined at the cabin by Robert Forster, a fellow ex scout.
There's an amusing scene when Saint has cleaned up the filthy cabin and prepared the first evening meal. She and the boy sit against the wall, watching Peck try to eat, wordlessly and without moving. Uncomfortable in the silence, Peck tells them to sit at the table. They obey but continue to simply sit and watch him. Uneasy, but trying to maintain his dignity, Peck explains to them that it's perfectly alright to speak at the table. In fact, they can say anything they like. He tries to prompt them by giving them examples but all he can think of is, "Pass the peas," and "Gimme the salt." It's funnier than it sounds when I describe it and it's the kind of comedy Peck handles well, with wary understatement. He's no good at pratfalls and wisecracks.
Another problem soon arises. The Apache leader, the father of Saint's son, is a real mean mother and is determined to recapture his son. They know he's coming because he's killing his way across two states.
Mulligan does a fine job of ratcheting up the tension. The Apache, Salvaje, is like a weasel or ferret. The camera can't do more than catch an occasional glimpse of him. He's as much a part of the landscape as the pinion and juniper trees. And the director sometimes undercranks the camera so that Salvaje seems to be leaping about behind rocks like an antelope. He kills an entire neighboring Mexican family. He kills the old man who tended the cabin, and the dog as well. He kills the half-breed Forster, whom we've come to like. It all leads to a final bloody battle between Peck and Salvaje, at the end of which the Apache, perforated numerous times, collapses on top of the exhausted Peck. Salvaje's bear-skin poncho is about all we see of his body -- never his painted face -- so that he like a large brutish animal of the forest.
Nice photography adds to the enjoyment. Fred Karlin's main theme is borrowed from Ennio Morricone, with its whimsical lilt and its whistle. But that's over and done with soon enough and the score that follows is like someone bowing a dissonant chord across brass wires.
Peck wears a queer hat and carries an old Henry repeating rifle. It looks more ominous than it actually was. Happily, they didn't cast a cute, buck-toothed kid as the son of Saint and Salvaje. He has a pinched nose and looks sullen, as he should.
Nicely done, for what it is.
Peck's last assignment is to see that Saint and the boy are sent back East. The cavalry rides off, leaving Peck to buy the freed captives a railroad ticket to safety but there are problems. One is that Saint has been a captive so long that she no longer has any family or friends to return to. Another is that Saint and her son have a tendency to sit as still and quietly as a couple of Polynesian tikis. What's a man to do? Peck is a tough, seasoned Westerner himself and not given to sympathy or palaver but he can't bring himself to pack his companions off to nowhere. So he invites them to join him at his cabin in New Mexico, now being tended only by a surly old man. Saint and the boy have learned to do what they're told. They're joined at the cabin by Robert Forster, a fellow ex scout.
There's an amusing scene when Saint has cleaned up the filthy cabin and prepared the first evening meal. She and the boy sit against the wall, watching Peck try to eat, wordlessly and without moving. Uncomfortable in the silence, Peck tells them to sit at the table. They obey but continue to simply sit and watch him. Uneasy, but trying to maintain his dignity, Peck explains to them that it's perfectly alright to speak at the table. In fact, they can say anything they like. He tries to prompt them by giving them examples but all he can think of is, "Pass the peas," and "Gimme the salt." It's funnier than it sounds when I describe it and it's the kind of comedy Peck handles well, with wary understatement. He's no good at pratfalls and wisecracks.
Another problem soon arises. The Apache leader, the father of Saint's son, is a real mean mother and is determined to recapture his son. They know he's coming because he's killing his way across two states.
Mulligan does a fine job of ratcheting up the tension. The Apache, Salvaje, is like a weasel or ferret. The camera can't do more than catch an occasional glimpse of him. He's as much a part of the landscape as the pinion and juniper trees. And the director sometimes undercranks the camera so that Salvaje seems to be leaping about behind rocks like an antelope. He kills an entire neighboring Mexican family. He kills the old man who tended the cabin, and the dog as well. He kills the half-breed Forster, whom we've come to like. It all leads to a final bloody battle between Peck and Salvaje, at the end of which the Apache, perforated numerous times, collapses on top of the exhausted Peck. Salvaje's bear-skin poncho is about all we see of his body -- never his painted face -- so that he like a large brutish animal of the forest.
Nice photography adds to the enjoyment. Fred Karlin's main theme is borrowed from Ennio Morricone, with its whimsical lilt and its whistle. But that's over and done with soon enough and the score that follows is like someone bowing a dissonant chord across brass wires.
Peck wears a queer hat and carries an old Henry repeating rifle. It looks more ominous than it actually was. Happily, they didn't cast a cute, buck-toothed kid as the son of Saint and Salvaje. He has a pinched nose and looks sullen, as he should.
Nicely done, for what it is.