Sam Peckinpah/USA/1969; R4 (2-disc SE)
Warner Bros, $19.95 | Reviewed by Brannavan Gnanalingam

“PECKINPAH makes epics about failures”. But with four crooked men striding purposefully to save their captured friend, Peckinpah re-wrote the rules of Westerns and in an instant, became a star himself. The Wild Bunch is the classic riposte to the idealism of the 60s – with amoral and self-interested desperadoes existing in a brutal, corrupt and greedy society. There’s no peace and love here – it’s all cynically shattered by rivers of blood, throat cuttings and scorpions being eaten up by armies of ants.

It’s easy to forget just how revolutionary this film was. Westerns were traditionally simple binary opposites of good vs. bad, the nostalgiac Fordian myth of the frontier and civilisation (of course, movies like The Searchers excepted). The Wild Bunch forced us to identify with a bunch of immoral criminals and not with institutions like the railroad, the army or civilisation. Indeed, the bunch – headed by Pike (William Holden) – aren’t the nicest guys. They drift around committing casual crime and looking for one final score. Having been forced to flee to Mexico, they find their amorality doesn’t quite fit into the immorality they witness.

This is all set-up in a classic, blackly comic beginning. Peckinpah creates a bravura shootout involving the bunch (dressed as armymen), the corrupt railroad men with a moralistic Temperance Union (of conservative folk) caught in the middle. Meanwhile children firstly kill two scorpions by dropping them in an anthill, and then burn the anthill. The brutal callousness of the children is only heightened by the inability of morality to do anything but get shot at. This is a brutally cynical vision typified when a member of the bunch shouts out "kiss my sister’s black cat’s ass" as he is gunned down.

What follows is one classic scene after another. The romp in the winery; the “silence” of the train robbery; the portrayal of the men; the integration of the flashbacks are all examples of genius. The climax is even better. Peckinpah made some great films, but none were as unified in their brilliance as this.

Peckinpah loved showing us men appearing out of their time. Ideas of duty and honour only exist when it’s a matter of survival. He never did write women well, but nor does he seem to care. This is certainly muscular stuff, a vision of masculinity eating the scorpions but being consumed by the fire.


THE FILM is being released as a two-disc special edition, with the centrepiece being the original director’s cut which was first shown in 1994. There is a comprehensive commentary by Peckinpah biographers Nick Redman, Paul Seydor, Garner Simmons and David Weddle. And while occasionally hyperbolic in their critique (man they love this film), it certainly is insightful. A second disc features additional scenes (which actually aren’t really that much, and are kinda dull) and documentaries. This is certainly to appeal to the die-hard fan – there’s something overwhelming about all this that seems to remove a little bit of the mystique of the film. It does however, add to the legend that is Peckinpah – for example, the iconic walk of the last four was improvised by Peckinpah at the last minute. The scorpion scene was also a late addition, based on Emilio Fernandez (who played General Mapache) childhood stories.

The documentary Sam Peckinpah’s West: Legacy of a Hollywood Renegade features narration from Kris Kristofferson (who starred in Peckinpah’s classic Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid) and interviews with the likes of David Thomson, Roger Ebert and Billy Bob Thornton, offering a comprehensive account of Peckinpah’s life. The Wild Bunch: An Album in Montage is an Oscar nominated documentary which charts the making of, while an excerpt from commentator Nick Redman’s documentary, A Simple Adventure Story: Sam Peckinpah, Mexico, and the Wild Bunch is included where Peckinpah’s daughter goes back to the town where the film was shot. I’m always overwhelmed by the amount of information that exists in special edition DVDs like this – but with a film as impressive as Peckinpah’s masterpiece, it’s almost worth it.