A Morte Não Manda Recado

It can be argued that Jason Robards gave his career screen performance in the title role of in The Ballad of Cable Hogue. Borrowing heavily from Lee Marvin's Kid Shalleen from Cat Ballou, Robards is one desert rascal who turns a crisis into a moneymaker.

Old time prospector Cable Hogue is deserted and left to die on the desert by his two partners, Strother Martin and L.Q. Jones. Ready to cash it in, he happens on some water, the only water in a desert between two Nevada towns. With only 35 cents to his name, he takes a claim on the two acres where that spring is and through some wit and rascally charm he gets the stagecoach line to open up a station right there.

In the list of Sam Peckinpah's screen credits this is the only comedy in the bunch and I'm surprised he didn't do more. None of those slow motion hymns to violence are in this film, but Peckinpah does show a good sense of comedy which given the type of stuff he normally did you wouldn't think he would have.

Of course the other half of the credit for The Ballad of Cable Hogue belongs to Jason Robards and the droll performance he delivers. Cable Hogue is a man who's got a good sense of himself and ain't easily trifled with.

Stella Stevens is good as the tart where her heart ought to be. And such Peckinpah regulars as Slim Pickens and R.G. Armstrong round out a very capable supporting cast.

For unusual taste of Peckinpah, you really ought to see The Ballad of Cable Hogue.

"The Ballad of Cable Hogue", when first released in 1970, may have caught the viewing public asleep. But, over the years, people have seen this film for what it truly is--a tribute by director Sam Peckinpah to the passing away of the old west, and a brilliant performance turned in by Jason Robards as a desert hobo who finally awakens to his need for touching base with the human race, ever so often.

Cable is left out in the desert by two comrades, Bowen and Taggart, to make his own way, or perish trying, as they head back to civilization. Hogue vows to catch up to them, but first, he has to find water, which he does, then establish a business for the stage line, which he is able to do, and show a profit. All this happens, and after several years of waiting, the two former friends do happen onto his way station, and a touch of revenge is extracted by Cable upon the two who left him in the desert.

This film has some remarkable elements; a great supporting cast led by Stella Stevens, playing Hildy, David Warner portrays a lecherous preacher who becomes Hogue's partner in the desert, and Strother Martin and L. Q. Jones add the touch of villiany this film needed. Also, the musical background will stay with the viewer long after the final credits have rolled. This movie is a fantastic portrayal of the fading era of the west, and Peckinpah left the public with a classic. 9/10, easily.

I didn't even know this was a Sam Peckinpah movie when I watched it. It has been programmed regularly on Cable TV here in the UK, and I idly switched over to it one Sunday evening. Cowboy movies in 2012? You must be joking! However, I was sufficiently hooked to watch this guy left for dead in the desert. It looks like Jason Robards, so it has to have something going for it. He finds a muddy puddle in the desert. OK, a cliché about this guy building up a prosperous business from scratch. Well, not quite. The clichés never happen. Instead the dialogue is interesting, poetic, never predictable. The character of Cable Hogue has depth and empathy. David Warner hoves into view as a disreputable preacher, dressed in black and thin as a gutter. In the nearest town we meet the hooker, played beautifully by the delectable Stella Stevens. OK, there are elements of slapstick which never quite work, but you feel the movie has something beyond the conventional western. When I discovered it was by Peckinpah, I immediately thought - yes, this is the work of a great director. Not a full-blown symphony, perhaps a string quartet (though by all accounts it cost enough to make). It leaves you with a feeling of satisfaction, tinged with melancholy. That coyote at the end has a collar - perhaps a symbol of the taming of the wilderness.

Extremely appealing fable from the celebrated director Sam Peckinpah, who works from an often poetic script by Edmund Penny and actor John Crawford. Here he and a very fine cast create some endearing characters worth getting to know. He also revisits the theme of the changing times in the American West (the story is set in 1908, and our characters marvel at the sight of a car). It crosses genres with ease - Western, drama, comedy - and even at 122 minutes, never feels padded out.

Jason Robards is excellent as the title character, betrayed by his lowlife associates, Bowen (Strother Martin), and Taggart (L.Q. Jones), and left to wander the desert on his own. Cable crosses the desert for days, almost certain to perish due to lack of water. Then, by miracle, Cable discovers an underground well of water. He travels to the nearest town to use his very meager funds to buy two acres in the area, and crafts what turns out to be a thriving way station in this desert wilderness. He also makes the acquaintance of wistful prostitute Hildy (Stella Stevens) and lustful preacher Joshua (David Warner).

Robards's compelling performance anchors this saga, as Cable courts the vague hope that someday Bowen and Taggart will stop by his place for water and he can get some revenge. The gorgeous Stevens - who does some rather tasteful nudity for the picture - flourishes in one of her best ever roles as Hildy, too, yearns for something more out of life. Warner supplies quite a bit of lecherous comedy relief, as he can't help helping himself to the ladies. This solid assemblage of actors also includes Slim Pickens, Peter Whitney, R.G. Armstrong, Gene Evans, Kathleen Freeman, and Vaughn Taylor.

Lovely, sun baked photography and a lush score by Jerry Goldsmith are other positive attributes to this poignant film, considered by some to be one of Peckinpahs' finest efforts.

Eight out of 10.

There was always far more to Sam Peckinpah than just bullets, bloodbaths, and squibs. "Bloody Sam", as he was so often called, was also a mercurial and complicated director who could quite easily master the fine art of congenial character studies as he could the dark and violent side of Man. Case in point is his 1970 western THE BALLAD OF CABLE HOGUE. Alongside his 1972 contemporary western JUNIOR BONNER, BALLAD is Peckinpah at his most relaxed, as well as his most overtly comic. Due to typical studio finagling, BALLAD was far from a hit when it was released in May 1970; but it has since then attained a better place in the western pantheon.

Jason Robards stars in the title role, a desert rat left to fend for himself after his two unscrupulous partners (the always-reliable Strother Martin and L.Q. Jones) abandon him without any water out on the Nevada desert. Vowing revenge one day against them, he stumbles through the desert for several days; and just when he's near the end of his rope, in the middle of a sandstorm, he comes upon water--in a place it isn't supposed to be. The waterhole becomes his salvation, and eventually a money-making enterprise, being situated along a heavily traveled stagecoach route. Into his life come a sex-starved preacher (David Warner) and a small-town prostitute (Stella Stevens) bound for New Orleans. And yet, for all the companionship they provide and all the money he gets from the water, he still can't stop thinking about getting even with Martin and Jones--a fact that eats at him and makes him vindictive, even towards Stevens and Warner.

Stuck as it was between THE WILD BUNCH and STRAW DOGS in the Peckinpah film canon, THE BALLAD OF CABLE HOGUE was largely considered by some to be a minor film, seeing as how it had next to no violence to speak of (which makes the 'R' rating it has a bit much today--'PG-13' would be more like it). But it showed that Peckinpah cared as much for characters as he did for content, a fact that holds true for all of his best movies but which so often got set aside because so many critics focused on the violence. The musical interludes don't necessarily catch on very well, but they are the only (minor) flaw to this congenial mix of comedy and drama in a sagebrush setting. Robards does his usual good job as the grizzled desert rat; Stevens scores as the love he really can't have; and Warner's performance as the lecherous preacher Joshua is incredible. Other Peckinpah regulars like R.G. Armstrong and Slim Pickens provide the usual great support; and the period score by Jerry Goldsmith, and Lucien Ballard's fine cinematography top things off.

THE BALLAD OF CABLE HOGUE is a film in need of revival, both for Peckinpah cultists in particular and indeed Western film fans in general. It proved that even a troublesome Hollywood infant terrible like Sam Peckinpah could be congenial when given the right material.