Lets dig into Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid. What makes a special edition like Criterion’s new release so intriguing is that it’s taken a flawed, arguably unfinished film, gathered several different versions of it, and placed it all in our hands, inviting us to look at the different permutations it’s taken on over the years and allowing us to make our own judgments about what could’ve, would’ve, might’ve been.
The Production: 3/5
Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid doesn’t really work.
What makes a special edition like Criterion’s new release so intriguing is that it’s taken a flawed, arguably unfinished film, gathered several different versions of it, and placed it all in our hands, inviting us to look at the different permutations it’s taken on over the years and allowing us to make our own judgments about what could’ve, would’ve, might’ve been. In this collection, it becomes a sort of Rorschach test, with you as the viewer being given the final say on how to view it and what to take from it.
With that said, I come to this film first and foremost as a Bob Dylan fan, much more so than a Sam Peckinpah fan, which colors my perception of it in a way that may be different from yours; it’s the kind of film that is open enough to allow that kind of variation. For many years, the film’s soundtrack (a mixture of original songs and musical motifs written and performed by Dylan), was more readily available than the film itself. It’s the origin of “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door,” a song that’s become one of Dylan’s most recognizable and frequently covered tunes, which, devoid of context, carries an ethereal and abstract glow. (Imagine my surprise in finally seeing the song within the film and discovering how uncharacteristically literal it was for Dylan; it’s just a narration describing exactly what the viewer is watching unfold on the screen. Divorce the song from the film and it’s a masterpiece; watch it with the film and it’s like one of those audio commentaries where the speaker is just narrating what he’s seeing onscreen.) Besides contributing the music, Dylan himself appears in one of his rare acting performances as the minor character Alias, bringing a more naturalistic quality to the film than either of its leads do.
For me, Dylan’s music and small appearance in the film give it a unique sort of feeling, not exactly timeless, but more, standing outside of time. It’s much more of a “vibe” picture than a “story” picture, and certainly any attempt at historical verisimilitude goes out the window with the casting of the then 37-year old Kris Kristofferson as the titular “kid,” who in real life died at the young age of 21. James Coburn, as Pat Garrett, reliably delivers a rather internal performance, doing more with his facial expressions and body language than with the script’s words. Peckinpah’s direction is typically violent but often unfocused, with an ebb and flow that favors individual moments more than continuity of the whole. It is a film that is less than the sum of its parts.
Within this set are three unique versions of the film: Peckinpah’s “final preview cut” (different from the preview version included as a bonus on the decades-old DVD edition), the original theatrical release (which hasn’t been seen on home video since the VHS-era), and a newly created “50th Anniversary Edition” which supplants the 2005 cut from the DVD.
Of these versions, perhaps heretically, my favorite turned out to be the original theatrical release. At 106 minutes, it still feels longer than its length, but Dylan’s music seems to be given greater prominence here, tying the film together, and of those three versions, it’s the one that feels most like a completed film. It feels alive.
The liner notes included with the set make note that, contrary to accepted wisdom, Peckinpah was never removed from the film; rather, his employers at MGM told him that the film needed to come in under a certain length, and that rather than complying with their mandate, he simply chose not to be involved in the completion of the film. In the years since the auteur era, it’s also become accepted wisdom that studio executives have no idea how to make films, and that any directives coming from them must on their face be wrong. It’s a notion that I’ve never been entirely comfortable with accepting, particularly in the era before studios became just one of many portfolio items for major conglomerates. The people who worked in the studios in those bygone eras may not have been right about every single thing, but they did manage to thread the needle between art and commerce, and developed an entertainment form that persists to this day.
Of the remaining two versions on the set, the “final preview cut” is my runner-up choice. It’s big, sprawling, and messy, more an assemblage of what was shot than a completed work. It, too, feels alive, but also unwieldy, ending with a text-based credit scroll that seems to go on for years. At 122 minutes, it actually doesn’t feel much longer than the theatrical version, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that despite all of these interesting parts, there isn’t quite a film there.
Faring worst in my view is the newly created “50th Anniversary Release,” which I suspect will probably be the favorite version of most people exploring this set. Created by Peckinpah biographer Paul Seydor with the assistance of one of the film’s original editors, Roger Spottiswoode, it splits the difference in length between the two other versions, clocking in at 117 minutes – and yet, it feels longer than the longest version. Whereas the other two versions of the film felt alive and vital to me, this one feels sterile, cold, an assembly of intellectual ideas and box-checking to include favorite discarded scenes without concern for momentum. While I suspect this will not be a popular opinion, I found it to be a slog. The moment had passed and the magic was gone.
Video: 4.5/5
3D Rating: NA
Though this edition contains three different versions of the films, in terms of presentation quality, there are really two different sources: the original theatrical version and the 50th anniversary edition have been created from the original negative, and are each presented on their own 4K UHD disc in the 2.35:1 aspect ratio. Those two versions, on their own, merit a 5/5 rating, with the original photography magnificently reproduced. Color, contrast and detail are all on par with what would be expected from a 1973 production, and there are no issues with damage, debris or any other age-related artifacts. (An included Blu-ray disc also includes 1080p versions of these versions of the film.)
The final preview version is presented only on Blu-ray in 1080p resolution, and while there are some minor inconsistencies with color timing owing to the unfinished nature of the source, it looks remarkably good for what it is. (I concur with the decision not to include this version on a 4K disc, as the element would likely not have yielded any further detail or clarity at a higher resolution.) There are occasionally light scratches and other imperfections, but nothing detrimental to the presentation. Visually, it’s the version I enjoyed watching the most, as it felt like sitting in a movie theater in 1973 watching an actual 35mm print. It’s the kind of presentation that film fans go to repertory theaters to see.
Audio: 5/5
The film’s original monaural audio soundtrack is presented via uncompressed PCM, and sounds about the same across all three versions, which is to say, that they all do a wonderful job of striking a balance between well-recorded dialogue, carefully mixed with sound effects that never overwhelm what’s being said, with Bob Dylan’s score and songs coming across as warm and airy, tying it all together into a cohesive whole.
Optional English SDH subtitles are included for all three versions of the film.
Special Features: 4.5/5
Audio Commentary on the 50th Anniversary Edition – Paul Seydor, Roger Spottiswoode and Michael Sragow speak together on the latest version of the film, providing a wealth of information on the film’s production and release. It’s an insightful commentary that covers a lot of ground, and while the commentary appears only on the 50th anniversary edition of the film, the participants do discuss all of the versions.
Passion & Poetry: Peckinpah’s Last Western (48:27) – Created exclusively for this release, this documentary about the making of the film combines an archival audio interview with Peckinpah along with newer video interviews with cast and crew.
Dylan In Durango (15:52) – Bob Dylan biographer Clinton Heylin examines Dylan’s participation in front of the camera and on the soundtrack.
Champlin On Film: James Coburn (27:10) – An archival interview from 1988 with actor James Coburn discussing his role in the film with critic Charles Champlin. If you can forgive the taped-off-TV, VHS quality of the presentation, the interview content makes it worth the time.
Trailer (3:18) – The film’s original theatrical trailer offers insight into how the film was marketed to contemporary audiences.
TV Spots (1:45) – Several brief television commercials offer further insight into the film’s marketing.
Overall: 4.5/5
Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is far from a perfect film, but Criterion have pulled out all the stops in creating a special edition that honors the legacy of Sam Peckinpah’s film and all of the “what-ifs” surrounding its troubled production. Containing three unique versions of the film, along with several insightful special features, it has nearly everything a fan of the film might want to have. (The only omissions are the two cuts from the 2005 DVD edition, which have not been included here. While the 50th Anniversary Edition supplants the special edition from the DVD, thus making a reasonable case for its exclusion, fans of the first preview cut included in that DVD may wish to hold on to that earlier set.)
Josh’s fate as a physical media enthusiast was probably sealed the moment he figured out how to operate a top-loading VCR before he even knew how to walk. Since graduating with a degree in film production, he has enjoyed a career focused on the archival and distribution side of film and television. These days, Josh thinks of himself as a proud father of twins first. He would like to thank his wife for her unwavering support, and for every typo she’s ever caught.
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