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Predictably "Hollywood-esque", but sometimes surprising (no doubt stemming from its literary origins), this Costner-directed story is certainly well made. Strangely, I've never been able to determine the depth of the star's acting talent in any film in which he's appeared. In DW, his oral narration is weak but his passive presence throughout the rest of the film is adequate for the role. Regrettable is the movie's attempt to be both (historically) realistic and morally abstract. The ethical simplicity of the plot and its characters does not lend itself to a stern history lesson, in which we are taught that the White man is (almost inherently) corrupt, the Sioux is a noble savage and environmental guardian, and the Pawnee, a bloodthirsty barbarian. What I mean is that these characterizations are fine outside of the pretension that they are the truth; the stock nature of the story is suitable only for drama (as opposed to realism). I would not be too concerned if it were made in an age where the audience was more sophisticated, because it is clear to me that one should not be deceived by the film's historic appearance into thinking literally about the nature of the plot. Rather, Dunbar (Costner) is a man who confronts the frontier within himself after a flirtation with suicide. The western limits of America in 1863 happen to form the concrete setting--the dramatic effect of pathetic fallacy--for his internal struggle. We must also remember the extraordinary influence on the American character that was the frontier--Indians or no Indians. While watching Dunbar's notebook being borne away by the river after a brutal--and decisive--struggle with Union troops, I found myself admiring the metaphor, but was also a little disappointed by its naiveté; but later, when he again comes into possession of it, the implications are problematic, more serious.

Other comments: I found the narration confusing, in that it wasn't clear what chronological perspective was being adopted. What is the deal with the officer with whom Dunbar speaks before departing into the hinterland ("I p***ed my pants, and there's nothing anyone can do about it", etc.)

Gortner's character is smarter and tougher than anyone else in the diner. In an experiment in depravity, he decides to see how far he can humiliate and bully people before they stand up to him--if they do at all. He uses his worldliness and intelligence to insult them in ways that they might not detect, or pretend not to notice. When he learns that a young man bears the nickname Red Ryder, he sets out to show the banality and hypocrisy of American culture.

It's an anti-Western: the antagonist, a Vietnam veteran, finds that America is not the home of the brave, that perhaps the free and heroic spirit embodied in the popular conception of the Old West has vanished--or has it?

While the character is reminiscent of *Blue Velvet*'s Frank Booth (played by Dennis Hopper), *Red Ryder* is the superior film. Its predator is more comprehensive, realistic, and transparent. Booth, like many of Lynch's characters, is ultimately a cipher, and therefore uninteresting.