Good God, I do so love a good Western.
And that’s the thing? Westerns don’t have to be epic in scale to, simply, be good.
Not each and every film of this uniquely American genre need approach the greatness of Sergio Leone’s The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly (1966) to merely be watchable. Not every flick needs to have the crowd-pleasing goodness of Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo (1959) to be entertaining. Not every experience must seek out and deliver old-school, white-knuckle justice (and vengeance) in the manner that Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992) did to be embraced by audiences around the world. Because these productions can be understandably formulaic in design and execution, all they need to accomplish in order to be good is to show up, have respectable production values, hit their marks, and ride off into the sunset. Of course, it would be a grand, grand world if every attempt to explore these wild days gone by could be exceptional at each opportunity; but – in the scheme of things – I’ve always found that even the category’s color-by-numbers attempts have something to offer in just being G-O-O-D.
With that preamble out of the way, I’m thrilled to mention that the good people at Warner Archive recently re-released 1997’s Last Stand At Saber River and provided me a copy. Drawn from the novel of the same name written by Elmore Leonard, the script was adapted by Ronald M. Cohen and directed by Dick Lowry. The cast includes Tom Selleck, Suzy Amis, Keith Carradine, David Carradine, and a very young actor named Haley Joel Osment who star power would climb to impressive heights only two years later when he joined Bruce Willis in M. Night Shyamalan’s impressive The Sixth Sense.
Like any good Western, Saber River has more than its share of predictable set-ups with more than a few anticipated payoffs. But – as I said above – that’s the indelible beauty of films of this type. Viewers show up expecting it, and they’re not going to be disappointed. It’s fairly easy to tell the good guys from the bad, and there’s nothing particularly egregious about that reality. As for its actors and actresses? Well, they may not offer up any groundbreaking scene chewing – with exception of a scene here and there; and yet collectively they all still manage to bring to life some of what made that bygone era of the Civil War – when brother fought brother – something for the history books.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After the Civil War, a returning Confederate veteran must reclaim his Arizona land and homestead from the Yankee carpetbaggers who illegally occupy it.”
And that’s the thing? Westerns don’t have to be epic in scale to, simply, be good.
Not each and every film of this uniquely American genre need approach the greatness of Sergio Leone’s The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly (1966) to merely be watchable. Not every flick needs to have the crowd-pleasing goodness of Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo (1959) to be entertaining. Not every experience must seek out and deliver old-school, white-knuckle justice (and vengeance) in the manner that Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992) did to be embraced by audiences around the world. Because these productions can be understandably formulaic in design and execution, all they need to accomplish in order to be good is to show up, have respectable production values, hit their marks, and ride off into the sunset. Of course, it would be a grand, grand world if every attempt to explore these wild days gone by could be exceptional at each opportunity; but – in the scheme of things – I’ve always found that even the category’s color-by-numbers attempts have something to offer in just being G-O-O-D.
With that preamble out of the way, I’m thrilled to mention that the good people at Warner Archive recently re-released 1997’s Last Stand At Saber River and provided me a copy. Drawn from the novel of the same name written by Elmore Leonard, the script was adapted by Ronald M. Cohen and directed by Dick Lowry. The cast includes Tom Selleck, Suzy Amis, Keith Carradine, David Carradine, and a very young actor named Haley Joel Osment who star power would climb to impressive heights only two years later when he joined Bruce Willis in M. Night Shyamalan’s impressive The Sixth Sense.
Like any good Western, Saber River has more than its share of predictable set-ups with more than a few anticipated payoffs. But – as I said above – that’s the indelible beauty of films of this type. Viewers show up expecting it, and they’re not going to be disappointed. It’s fairly easy to tell the good guys from the bad, and there’s nothing particularly egregious about that reality. As for its actors and actresses? Well, they may not offer up any groundbreaking scene chewing – with exception of a scene here and there; and yet collectively they all still manage to bring to life some of what made that bygone era of the Civil War – when brother fought brother – something for the history books.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“After the Civil War, a returning Confederate veteran must reclaim his Arizona land and homestead from the Yankee carpetbaggers who illegally occupy it.”
John Carpenter’s Escape From New York (1981) got great mileage out of a single narrative trick involving the continuing presentation of his seminal anti-hero, Snake Plissken.
Without going to great lengths on the plot, Plissken – a veteran of some global conflict that’s only hinted at briefly in the script – turned to a life of crime after his return to the United States left him more than a bit disenfranchised at how his military service truly only derailed an otherwise peaceful existence. As the film opens, audiences see that he’s finally been apprehended, but a catastrophic plane crash inside the nation’s only remaining maximum security facility – Manhattan Island Prison – presents him with a chance to earn amnesty: go inside, rescue the downed American President, and bring him back alive. If he can do it within 24 hours, then Plissken earns a full pardon.
The genius of both establishing and getting to know Snake – as a character – is that practically everyone he meets along his treacherous journey always greets him with the same line: “Snake Plissken? I’d heard you were dead.”
Now, that might not mean much to some, but for those of us in the audience it served as a constant reminder of the fact that we functionally knew very little about Plissken’s life and yet were willing to see him as our lead. Granted, it might also have kept us privately guessing over the particulars to just how, where, and why the soldier earned such a reputation. Was it while serving his country, or did it have something tied closely to his life of crime? Though we never learned the truth, the fact that director Carpenter felt the need to turn us from passive to active watchers with this little storytelling trick gives both his lead character and the film as a whole a life beyond just what we see; and that’s pure cinematic genius.
Because I’m unfamiliar with the source novel for Saber River, I can’t say whether or not Leonard was channeling Carpenter’s trickery, but it is definitely a technique Cohen incorporated into the script. Paul Cable (played by Tom Selleck) is a Confederate soldier whose return home is shrouded in a similar mystery as folks back there also heard he had been killed in the Civil War. What could have happened? Was he thought to have perished on the battlefield in combat, or could his demise have been linked to something a bit more nefarious? The only thing for certain is that the tired and haggard man has no intention on discussing what led to his separation from the Confederate Army – the war still rages – so there’s a bit of mystery shrouding precisely who he is and what he might have done.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that he’s not quite the man that his wife Martha (Suzy Amis) knew when he left her to take up arms against the North. Now, he’s a bit sullen, a bit distant, and it’s clear that he only wants to get on with the business of healing himself and what remains of his family. With a hope of returning to normalcy, the two decide that a return to their original homestead in Arizona is the next logical step; and so they pack up all of their belongings and leave the safety of the great state of Texas behind them.
Without going to great lengths on the plot, Plissken – a veteran of some global conflict that’s only hinted at briefly in the script – turned to a life of crime after his return to the United States left him more than a bit disenfranchised at how his military service truly only derailed an otherwise peaceful existence. As the film opens, audiences see that he’s finally been apprehended, but a catastrophic plane crash inside the nation’s only remaining maximum security facility – Manhattan Island Prison – presents him with a chance to earn amnesty: go inside, rescue the downed American President, and bring him back alive. If he can do it within 24 hours, then Plissken earns a full pardon.
The genius of both establishing and getting to know Snake – as a character – is that practically everyone he meets along his treacherous journey always greets him with the same line: “Snake Plissken? I’d heard you were dead.”
Now, that might not mean much to some, but for those of us in the audience it served as a constant reminder of the fact that we functionally knew very little about Plissken’s life and yet were willing to see him as our lead. Granted, it might also have kept us privately guessing over the particulars to just how, where, and why the soldier earned such a reputation. Was it while serving his country, or did it have something tied closely to his life of crime? Though we never learned the truth, the fact that director Carpenter felt the need to turn us from passive to active watchers with this little storytelling trick gives both his lead character and the film as a whole a life beyond just what we see; and that’s pure cinematic genius.
Because I’m unfamiliar with the source novel for Saber River, I can’t say whether or not Leonard was channeling Carpenter’s trickery, but it is definitely a technique Cohen incorporated into the script. Paul Cable (played by Tom Selleck) is a Confederate soldier whose return home is shrouded in a similar mystery as folks back there also heard he had been killed in the Civil War. What could have happened? Was he thought to have perished on the battlefield in combat, or could his demise have been linked to something a bit more nefarious? The only thing for certain is that the tired and haggard man has no intention on discussing what led to his separation from the Confederate Army – the war still rages – so there’s a bit of mystery shrouding precisely who he is and what he might have done.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that he’s not quite the man that his wife Martha (Suzy Amis) knew when he left her to take up arms against the North. Now, he’s a bit sullen, a bit distant, and it’s clear that he only wants to get on with the business of healing himself and what remains of his family. With a hope of returning to normalcy, the two decide that a return to their original homestead in Arizona is the next logical step; and so they pack up all of their belongings and leave the safety of the great state of Texas behind them.
Still, trouble continues to plague Paul Cable.
Once they arrive in back Arizona, he learns that the Kidston Brothers – Vern (Keith Carradine) and Duane (David Carradine) – have claims on the Cable property, meaning that taking it back requires a bit of violence that results in the deaths of two of the Kidston’s hired hands. While the elder Duane wants to immediately repay the Cables in kind, Vern – the seasoned thinker of the two – knows that they can simply bide their time, go about business as usual, and the opportunity for payback will naturally present itself. Such a chance does eventually arise, but it happens at the devious machinations of the local merchant – Edward Janroe (David Dukes) – who is secretly keeping the battle of the North and the South raging by supplying guns to Confederates. Janroe hopes to put Cable directly at odds with the Kidstons, hoping that their probable demise – their Northerners, you see – will put Arizona squarely back into play with the Confederacy.
As one can see, there’s a great deal of drama unfolding on the shores of Saber River. Paul is trying to bury something in his recent past. Martha seeks a return to the man he once was. The Kidstons and the locals don’t see eye-to-eye. Janroe can’t stop his darker impulses from stirring up mortal dangers. Even the Indians appear to be in cahoots with Mexicans opting to see the United States of America fall into further disarray with the war.
But the title alone clarifies that a ‘last stand’ is on the horizon, and it arrives with the word of Robert E. Lee’s surrender of the South to the North. Now – and perhaps only now – can a nation and its people get on with the business of healing; and this catalyst works its way across Saber River’s various plotlines and relationships in surprising ways. Before it’s all over, allies will become enemies, and adversaries will become compatriots. Love even makes a welcome return in the final scene wherein a man and woman can finally come to terms with what the challenges of enduring such hardships has still left under their care. Reconciliation won’t be easy, but no one ever said it would be.
As an oater, the telefilm works very well. Lowry and cinematographer Ric Waite use their locations wisely, staging Selleck and the rest of the cast in locations that highlight an expanse that promised riches but often dealt dangers to pioneers hoping to stake a claim on their small piece of it. David Shire’s score is properly reminiscent of what music typically sounds like in Westerns of this type – fanfare backing the danger and adventure while more subdued tracks tug at the audience’s heartstrings in the quieter, emotional moments. Though there’s really no ‘High Noon’ style showdown anywhere in here, Lowry’s finale does highlight a runaway stagecoach; so let’s all agree once more than these features beg, borrow, and steal only the best of what’s been done before when they need to use it once again.
Once they arrive in back Arizona, he learns that the Kidston Brothers – Vern (Keith Carradine) and Duane (David Carradine) – have claims on the Cable property, meaning that taking it back requires a bit of violence that results in the deaths of two of the Kidston’s hired hands. While the elder Duane wants to immediately repay the Cables in kind, Vern – the seasoned thinker of the two – knows that they can simply bide their time, go about business as usual, and the opportunity for payback will naturally present itself. Such a chance does eventually arise, but it happens at the devious machinations of the local merchant – Edward Janroe (David Dukes) – who is secretly keeping the battle of the North and the South raging by supplying guns to Confederates. Janroe hopes to put Cable directly at odds with the Kidstons, hoping that their probable demise – their Northerners, you see – will put Arizona squarely back into play with the Confederacy.
As one can see, there’s a great deal of drama unfolding on the shores of Saber River. Paul is trying to bury something in his recent past. Martha seeks a return to the man he once was. The Kidstons and the locals don’t see eye-to-eye. Janroe can’t stop his darker impulses from stirring up mortal dangers. Even the Indians appear to be in cahoots with Mexicans opting to see the United States of America fall into further disarray with the war.
But the title alone clarifies that a ‘last stand’ is on the horizon, and it arrives with the word of Robert E. Lee’s surrender of the South to the North. Now – and perhaps only now – can a nation and its people get on with the business of healing; and this catalyst works its way across Saber River’s various plotlines and relationships in surprising ways. Before it’s all over, allies will become enemies, and adversaries will become compatriots. Love even makes a welcome return in the final scene wherein a man and woman can finally come to terms with what the challenges of enduring such hardships has still left under their care. Reconciliation won’t be easy, but no one ever said it would be.
As an oater, the telefilm works very well. Lowry and cinematographer Ric Waite use their locations wisely, staging Selleck and the rest of the cast in locations that highlight an expanse that promised riches but often dealt dangers to pioneers hoping to stake a claim on their small piece of it. David Shire’s score is properly reminiscent of what music typically sounds like in Westerns of this type – fanfare backing the danger and adventure while more subdued tracks tug at the audience’s heartstrings in the quieter, emotional moments. Though there’s really no ‘High Noon’ style showdown anywhere in here, Lowry’s finale does highlight a runaway stagecoach; so let’s all agree once more than these features beg, borrow, and steal only the best of what’s been done before when they need to use it once again.
As an actor, Selleck is about as good as it gets here. He simmers when required, and – as a husband – he tries to balance his words with his actions despite being prompted to do something more drastic by his wife. Few actors in the modern era – Kevin Costner, Robert Duvall, Clint Eastwood, etc. – truly look ‘at ease’ in such period pieces, and Selleck looks to be in his element. While Amis – as the conflicted squeeze who is also surprisingly happy with gun in hand – is good, it’s still sad that the script really only gives her two modes: she vacillates between the vengeful retaliator and the somewhat doe-eyed damsel conflicted with standing by her man, never quite given anything of any greater nuance to portray. Their reconciliation works but only so much as that’s the way it was scripted: thematically, it really could’ve gone either way. There may not be a great deal of chemistry between the two, but then again they spend the bulk of the picture at odds with one another, so I’m not certain any was necessary.
On one level, there’s an allegory running through Saber River that suggests we can only return to normal if our individual terms are met.
The Cables cling to a hope that going back to where it all began – their courting youth, their Arizona home, etc. – is a necessary step in putting all of these various issues to bed. The truth, however, is that we take our baggage with us as is more aptly demonstrated by their pack wagon journey from Texas westward: everything they own – including their remaining children along with their shared fears and frustrations – is on board, and it isn’t until they arrive that they realize the folly of such ways. (Mind you: that was a long, long, long way to come back then to learn something both should’ve known.) The husband and the wife eventually reach some alliance in the finale, but – disappointingly – they could’ve done the same in Texas had they put both of their heart and minds to it. In the end, they apparently believe it was all worth it, though I’m not so sure I’d agree.
Lastly, I’d be remiss in chatting about the greatness of the project if I failed to mention that in 1998 the telefilm took home top honors at the Western Heritage Awards by winning the organization’s Bronze Wrangler for Best Television Feature Film. For those unaware with the honors, the Western Heritage Awards were created to celebrate highwater marks in music, television, film, and literature which honor the spirit and vision of the American West. Such recognition may not mean much to some, but I think it speaks volumes for when experts weigh in on the merits of art that properly reflects our shared history.
Last Stand At Saber River (1997) was produced by TNT and TWS Productions II. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Allied Vaughn and Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish: the telefilm definitely incorporates some excellent cinematography which helps to bring the vastness of that wild frontier to life on the small screen. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, pard’ner, you’ve saddled up for next to nothing … and, yes, that’s a big miss if you ask me.
Recommended.
While there may be little new under the setting Western sun, that doesn’t necessarily mean that Last Stand At Saber River (1997) underwhelms. It has the measure of predictability that Westerns have long relied on to call their bluff; and I think it might be made a bit more palatable by having the gravitas of Selleck and the Carradines doing what men do best: hunt, ride, and shoot. Amis is good, though the script gives her too little to do. Ultimately, the message here of finding peace and comfort got a bit lost in the shuffle, and yet it’s still about as reasonable and reliable an oater you’re likely to find made in the 1990’s for network television.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Last Stand At Saber River by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
On one level, there’s an allegory running through Saber River that suggests we can only return to normal if our individual terms are met.
The Cables cling to a hope that going back to where it all began – their courting youth, their Arizona home, etc. – is a necessary step in putting all of these various issues to bed. The truth, however, is that we take our baggage with us as is more aptly demonstrated by their pack wagon journey from Texas westward: everything they own – including their remaining children along with their shared fears and frustrations – is on board, and it isn’t until they arrive that they realize the folly of such ways. (Mind you: that was a long, long, long way to come back then to learn something both should’ve known.) The husband and the wife eventually reach some alliance in the finale, but – disappointingly – they could’ve done the same in Texas had they put both of their heart and minds to it. In the end, they apparently believe it was all worth it, though I’m not so sure I’d agree.
Lastly, I’d be remiss in chatting about the greatness of the project if I failed to mention that in 1998 the telefilm took home top honors at the Western Heritage Awards by winning the organization’s Bronze Wrangler for Best Television Feature Film. For those unaware with the honors, the Western Heritage Awards were created to celebrate highwater marks in music, television, film, and literature which honor the spirit and vision of the American West. Such recognition may not mean much to some, but I think it speaks volumes for when experts weigh in on the merits of art that properly reflects our shared history.
Last Stand At Saber River (1997) was produced by TNT and TWS Productions II. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Allied Vaughn and Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish: the telefilm definitely incorporates some excellent cinematography which helps to bring the vastness of that wild frontier to life on the small screen. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, pard’ner, you’ve saddled up for next to nothing … and, yes, that’s a big miss if you ask me.
Recommended.
While there may be little new under the setting Western sun, that doesn’t necessarily mean that Last Stand At Saber River (1997) underwhelms. It has the measure of predictability that Westerns have long relied on to call their bluff; and I think it might be made a bit more palatable by having the gravitas of Selleck and the Carradines doing what men do best: hunt, ride, and shoot. Amis is good, though the script gives her too little to do. Ultimately, the message here of finding peace and comfort got a bit lost in the shuffle, and yet it’s still about as reasonable and reliable an oater you’re likely to find made in the 1990’s for network television.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Last Stand At Saber River by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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