Billy the Kid

By the time King Vidor directed this "Billy the Kid," he already had 36 movies under his belt (most of them silent), so it's weird that the movie seems so arbitrarily thrown together. Brutality and tenderness each try to crowd the other out. Somebody dies, and minutes later everyone's smiling again. I think the Western/Cowboy genre was still developing in Hollywood at the time (even after all those silent Westerns), and the addition of sound just threw another monkey wrench into the works. Nevertheless, you can tick off all the Western conventions and clichés as the film unfolds; they're all there. But it's like they're on steroids or something -- you never know when they're going to take on a life of their own. They just don't add up. I'm tempted to give this movie an "8" rating just for its consummate strangeness, but I think a "6" is probably a fairer assessment.

There are over fifty movies and television shows on the notorious Old West cattle-rustler and killer Billy The Kid. Two minor silent films were produced before director King Vidor tackled the subject of this young outlaw in cinema's first talking picture of William, released on October 1930, aptly called "Billy The Kid."

Based on the 1925 book by Walter Noble Burns, 'The Saga of Billy the Kid,' Vidor's plot loosely follows his involvement in the New Mexico Territory's 1880's Lincoln County War, pitting two rich ranchers feuding over land and cattle. MGM was pushing former college football star-turned-actor Johnny Mack Brown for major roles in an effort to make him one of Hollywood's top tier movie stars. Signing a five-year contract with the studio, Brown appeared as Mary Pickford's love interest in her first talkie, 1929's "Coquette." When producer Irving Thalberg assigned the actor as the lead in "Billy The Kid," Vidor was less than enthusiastic on the studio's choice. Within a year, with the ascendency of newcomer Clark Gable at MGM, Brown's career dropped as quickly as a plunging fiery zeppelin. "Billy the Kid" proved to be the peak of Brown's popularity. The actor turned to playing parts in Grade B westerns from the mid-1930s.

To make up for Vidor's disappointment, MGM slotted its rising star Wallace Beery as Pat Garrett. This was Beery's next movie after his Academy Award nominated Best Actor performance in 1930's "The Big House." The movie's plot pits Billy the Kid, an employee for English rancher Jack Tunston (Wyndham Standing), against Garret, the Deputy Sheriff who sided with town enforcer Colonel William Donovan (James Marcus).

MGM intended to make "Billy the Kid" into a major epic, rolling out its widescreen 70 mm format the studio labeled 'Realife.' The large screen was a variation of Fox Film's 'Grandeur' projection system. Vidor's film crew shot in the 70mm format and coverted most of the movie's prints into the 35mm standard image so the vast majority of theaters could show the motion picture. Those whom had the fortune to view the movie on the widescreen praised the film. The New York Times was bowled over by the large image, saying "The picture is chiefly noteworthy for this enlarged screen idea, for the story is merely a moderately entertaining." Besides some raised eyebrows on Brown's performance, the actor's laconic lasting words on the movie was the film was "a fine motion picture." MGM used the same identical plot in a 1941 color version with Robert Taylor as Billy The Kid.

Although generally forgotten, this version of "Billy the Kid" (1930) has held up remarkably well and should surprise contemporary viewers who think of the early talkies as something out of the Dark Ages.

I'm normally disgusted when these so-called historical epics take great liberties with the truth (particularly when the true story is more interesting that the embellished version) but almost 80 years since its release I doubt if the film will be taken as serious history by any new viewers. They probably should have changed the names along with the facts but there was marketing potential in promoting it as the story of William Bonny.

The title character is played by a young Johnny Mack Brown, just a couple years after his 1926 MVP performance for the victorious University of Alabama in the Rose Bowl. Mack was called "The Dothan Antelope" from his high school football days in Dothan Alabama. Watch for signs of his athletic prowess throughout the film, especially at the end where he mounts a horse and rides sidesaddle into the sunset while wearing handcuffs and leg irons.

King Vidor's "Billy the Kid" was quite a production for its day, probably the first major production filmed in a widescreen format. Although most likely you will have to view it in the 4 x 3 Hollywood format in which it was simultaneously filmed.

Brown's co-star was Wallace Beery (playing Pat Garrett) and their scenes together are excellent, the two manage a nice chemistry with different yet very complementary acting styles. The role made Beery a major star in "talking" pictures and Brown soon became a Top 10 movie cowboy.

Then again, what do I know? I'm only a child.

There were few westerns ever made in the 1930s that had better casting than this film. Johnny Mack Brown is perfect as Billy the Kid, and Wallace Beery is just as perfect as his personable best friend, Pat Garrett. Of course, this movie has very little to do with reality or the actual fact about Billy the Kid and Pat Garrett, but audiences in the 1930s Depression era were not really concerned too much about reality; if anything, they wanted to leave reality behind for a few hours. This film fits that bill. The tale of the pursuit and capture of Billy the Kid has been done more than half a dozen times in Hollywood, but not with more empathy and humor than this version. Watch it and see for yourself.

King Vidor's 1930 adaptation of Walter Noble Burns' SAGA OF BILLY THE KID plays fairly fast and loose with the facts. Johnny Mack Brown, even in 1930, was a bit old for the lead, and Wallace Beery considerably too old for Pat Garrett. The romance between Kay Johnson's character and Billy is unknown to history, and the ending is a jaw-dropper as well.

Against this, though, the film looks *terrific*, almost as if previously unknown contemporary documentary footage of the Lincoln County War had suddenly been found in some New Mexican attic. The sets are realistic, and realistically grubby, and the supporting cast are absolutely the scruffiest, most realistic-looking set of pre-Peckinpah westerners you'll ever see anywhere. (I think there may be more bald heads than average for the old west, but who knows? Those guys always kept their hats on.)

Turner Classic Movies dusts this one off every few years (it's scheduled for 6/15/2000), and despite every justified quibble about the casting and the script, it is worth watching just to correct the visual impression you may have received from all the slicker and glossier versions of this story made since 1930.