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"The body of Ransom Pride belongs to me."

It didn't take me very long to realize that I wasn't going to enjoy The Last Rites of Ransom Pride. Ten minutes, at most. The whole vibe of the movie just turns me off. I like Lizzy Caplan, but putting one appealing actress in the middle of a disaster doesn't do much good. I disliked the way it was filmed, the dialogue, and the absurd, meandering, nonsensical narrative that served as the story.

Basically, Ransom Pride (the man) is a recently dead acquaintance of Juliette Flower (Caplan), and she made a promise to retrieve his body and bury it near his mother. In order to get his body, she has to deliver Ransom's still living younger brother to some seedy folks. Lots of people hate her, lots of people want her dead, and lots of people try to stop her. That's the story. There are lots of unlikeable characters that were utterly ridiculous in their seriousness, the frequent action scenes are terrible, and the entire movie makes little sense. Sounds like a real winner, right?

It's rare for me to truly hate a movie, but The Last Rites of Ransom Pride reached that dubious achievement. This is probably in the bottom two or three movies that I've seen this entire year. The only good news is that I (hopefully) don't have to ever watch it again.

Another in a long line of pretentious Canadian films. Too often, I see Canadian film makers who think they have to display all manner of pseudo-intellectual, artsy nonsense in order to convince the viewer that the Canadian movie experience is more cerebral and enlightening than those gauche, low-brow US movies. Harumph!

And yet they borrow every US-based visual trick to make their films. The result is a lurching Frankenstein monster that sends me running for my torch light and pointed stick.

This movie is visually ugly, with jerky cutaway shots that make me think they are trying to do a style job a la Coppola's "Bram Stoker's Dracula." Coppola shows us how it's done when done well; sorry guys, but you show us what it looks like when done badly.

This could have been a beautiful, interesting Western if they'd have stuck to some of the more traditional elements of the genre. I'm thinking something along the lines of "The Assassination of Jesse James..." Obviously, they didn't have a Brad Pitt budget, but my opinion is that they wasted too much cash on the unnecessary visual junk.

And speaking of cash, I imagine the constraints of Canadian government funding also put the strangle-hold on their efforts. There is little funding to be had for Canadian art unless it screams pretentiousness and faked intellectualism.

You want to know something? When I watched this one on Netflix, I never knew it was Canadian by its description. It was listed as a Western and I love Westerns, so I picked it out. Two minutes into it, I had it pegged as a Canadian film. Go figure.

And in case you're wondering, I am Canadian, myself, and I do like some Canadian flicks. "The Saddest Music in the World" is one of my faves. It shows that you can be quirky without being a snob about it. That is a FUN movie, filmed (in an old warehouse in Winnipeg) with Vaseline smeared on the camera lenses. Nothing high-brow or snooty, here, folks! HA HA HA!!

Ahem...back to the review.

The characters in this one are unpleasant. Dwight Yoakam is fun to watch, but he can't carry such a heavy load on his shoulders alone. I'm not going to lay out the details of bad characters - suffice to say there was no character that I could root for, or get behind, or cheer for!

In the long run, I guess it's all about personal taste, so I would never tell a person to pass this one by. The fact that people made this movie (presumably with some enthusiasm) is testimony that SOMEONE out there is interested in this type of thing. But it ain't me, Babe. No, no, no...it ain't--

Well, you get the idea.

Be forewarned, is all. It's called a Western, but doesn't feel like one. Not by a long shot. It feels like you're standing in an allegedly upscale museum, where people are expected to praise every splatter and smear simply because they've been told that it's art.

I don't consider my tastes to be low-brow. I am fully capable of appreciating cerebral works. Actually, I enjoy movies of all genres. The only thing I ask is that it entertains me. Entertains my eyes, my ears, my imagination. This one did none of those things.

So you want to make a western, but not just a western. Nooooo. This is gonna be a Work of art too. So we add some weird color scheme and a lot of fixed camera settings on plants and desolate landscapes. Some strange music on top and let the plot unfurl really slooow. Now this takes the western up to art level, right? WRONG!! This is the recipe for a bad movie. Same thing happened for the french adaption of the comic Blueberry. What you get is a pretentious nothing. There have been several westerns deserving the art stamp. (The Searchers, The good bad & ugly, The unforgiven, to name a few), but these always worked within the boundaries of how a western should be, namely entertaining. This one definitely doesn't fit the bill.

The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride is definitely one weird western where the central character takes a step down from Sharon Stone in terms of social standing. Her boyfriend is the title character played at the beginning and in flashbacks by Scott Speedman and he's gunned down by someone he did not suspect at the beginning. But she promises him as the life oozes out of him on the town street to get his body back across the border for burial.

Speedman comes from a large clan named Pride. Speedman's dad is Reverend Dwight Yoakum who wears the title loosely and his uncle is Kris Kristofferson. They're not the greatest specimens of humanity ever, but they resent their son taking up with a prostitute. And one that shoot and fight like Lizzy Caplan. At least Sharon Stone in The Quick And The Dead was a good girl in an infinitely better film.

Not only do they hold Speedman against Caplan, but now she's involved with another Pride played by Jon Foster. And all the poor girl wants to do is the right thing by her dead boyfriend.

The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride is one terrible waste of good actors and good country singers.

It felt like a guilty pleasure watching the undeniably charismatic lead shoot her sultry and sexy way through assorted scuzzy reprobates, in this stylised take on the Western genre. The story involves an entertaining romp along the Mexican American border just after the turn of the last Century, in which early forms of mechanised transport duel with the traditional horsebacked cowboy depiction, and help to capture a changing age. The characters we are introduced to along the way (such as the dwarf/dying Siamese combo) help add to the slightly exotic, almost burlesque feel of the film. There is nothing particularly original here, and it felt like a definite case of 'style over substance'; I thought the final product was slightly let down by some hard-to-hear dialogue, and I couldn't decide if the jarring 'electric shock' flashbacks (or forwards) were too fast for me to keep up with, or just unnecessary. The casting department appeared to have raided the strange world of professional David Beckham lookalikes to fill the supporting role, and his transition from obedient daddy's boy to moody, seasoned side-kick shooter was too sudden and implausible....but then these are minor gripes about a film that doesn't profess much of a basis in historical reality, and is all the better for it. 7/10

A plus for Canadian westerns over Italian westerns is no lip-synch. That pretty much sums it up. There isn't a lot a film crew can do with $8MUSD, and this crew was no exception. Despite a rock solid performance by Dwight Yoakum and good walk-on by Kris Kristofferson, they were the only ones taking their roles seriously. Everyone else involved in the film, most especially the writers, knew this stinker was headed straight to Netflix on demand and exerted themselves accordingly. It's too bad, because if they hadn't been going for bizarre there were elements here of a worthwhile story. Over-the-top performances really kill any character development that begins to rise up, and the indiscriminate use of flashbacks is done just to re-use film and extend run-time without doing anything for the story. I can't believe they actually bothered to bring this dog to Blu- Ray. If you can watch it for free on Popcorm using your Roku and have nothing else to do, have at it. Otherwise, get out and mow the lawn, weed the garden. It's a better use of your time.

The people who gave this a bad review clearly do not understand the B rate movie genre. I stumbled upon this little gem by accident and really liked from the start. By 10 minutes in I was on the edge of my seat wondering what the director was going to do next. I'm not going to spoil this by providing plot clues and tidbits about exciting scenes. I'm just going to give my impression and let you decide for yourselves. This movie is well casted. The script isn't awful. The cinematography is gripping. The story line is fitting of the genre. The acting is OK. Suspend disbelief for a few moments, just remember that it's B Rate, and enjoy it for what it is.

Seriously, too many arty farty reviews here. Sure it's not High Plains Drifter or A Fistfull of Dollars but it's a steady Western. Enough action to keep you watching, a plot which while not being outstanding is simple to follow and a bit of sex appeal in the form of Lizzy Caplan. A large proportion of big(ish) name character actors bring life to what could have been pretty bland characters. All in all an enjoyable flick which really doesn't need over analyzing. View it for what it is. A fun western. If I had to be critical though, I'm not a fan of the single frame cut scenes which seem to be there to flesh out what would be a short story.

Pseudo-voodoo/mock-shamanic mextern. Vapid females of reproductive age, moronic male models, fourth-rate actors, celebrity sellouts, cynical producers, lazy writers, inebriate (?) directors and journeymen technicians - this film has it all. Utter crap from beginning to end. What was anyone thinking of ? Surely not the money.

I love the western genre enough that often I can accept a lesser entry of the genre despite its shortcomings. However, in the case of "The Last Rites of Ransom Pride", there are far more shortcomings than good elements. Actually, I can't recall any good elements at all! Though higher budgeted than most other Canadian films, it seems that they blew most of the money on rounding up that cast, since the visual look of the movie is horrible. The movie looks really cheap, due to a combination of threadbare production values and the always unwise decision to wash out any vibrant colors. But what is worse is the direction and the script. The story plays out in a very muddled way, so that despite the core story (sort of) making sense, there are details that are so badly explained (if explained at all) that you'll be scratching your head. And despite a running length of only 82 minutes, the movie plods on at a really slow pace, mainly due to there not being a heck of a lot of plot. Though there are a lot of annoying arty and self conscious moments It's evident that the filmmakers were trying for something different, but ironically they almost certainly would have made a better movie had they tried to be more conventional.

I don't think it's unfair to say that this is a bit odd and unexpected from the outset. Even before the opening credits have finished flashing before our eyes it's rather concretely imparted to us that the film is very direct (the first notes of Jeff Danna's score to greet us are distorted electric guitar), noticeably stylized (observe the font employed for subtitles), and unapologetically forceful in its direction (especially its many action sequences). There's nothing inherently wrong with any of this, of course, though personal preference is another matter. At the same time, given the appearance and feel of this feature - superficially resembling low-grade, low-budget fare much more than the most recognizably revered westerns - it seems strange to see such high-profile names in the cast. How did Dwight Yoakam, Kris Kristofferson, and Peter Dinklage get involved in this? How are additional renowned actors like Cote de Pablo, Scott Speedman, and Jason Priestley also part of this ensemble, all playing second fiddle to less immediately well-known Lizzy Caplan as protagonist Juliette?

To take note of these things is no tangent. 'The last rites of Ransom Pride' bears less kinship with the titles we're used to seeing from these actors than it does with the sort of fare that's generally characterized by the details I've mentioned. This isn't to say that it's altogether awful; there are elements of this I find fabulously enjoyable. But it's also safe to say that the picture is more than a little self-indulgent. Self-indulgent - and overzealous, and overcooked.

On the one hand, this can claim strong casting, acting, production values, production design and art direction, costume design, hair and makeup, and stunts and effects. Though a tad much as it presents here, I do like Danna's music in and of itself; action scenes are swell, and I think the direction is quite fine broadly. The character designs are fun, with de Pablo's witch in particular clearly having gotten a lot of attention in the conjuration. Why, there's a lot to like in the screenplay filmmaker Tiller Russell whipped up with co-writer Ray Wylie Hubbard. As written, too, the characters are vibrant and fanciful. The broad strokes of the narrative are superb, blending classic western notions with some that are more modern, or perhaps borrowed from other genres; there are many wonderful ideas herein.

On the other hand, 'Last rites' grows more troubled when we look to details of scene writing and dialogue. There are too many shots, scenes, lines of dialogue, and otherwise inclusions that don't really add anything. In theory such facets might round out character background and motivations, or the story, in a roundabout way, but the benefit is minimal and the time spent thereon is excessive. This includes Juliette's flashbacks, and further occasional one- or two-frame flashes; instances of needlessly crude language; some scenes and supporting characters are approached with such substantial grandiosity that the inclusion in and of itself seems to have been of higher priority than the place that these scenes or characters might have in the plot. Consider the appearance of Dinklage's character, or his unusual friends, or arguably the entirety of Blu Mankuma's character. Why, there are more characters here than the tale needed, and I wonder if some weren't added into the script just to give a role to some of the bigger names that are attached. All such aspects frankly distract from the actual tale on hand, diminishing the movie's value. And all this might not even be the worst sin, as Joel Plotch's editing is so flagrantly boisterous, curt, and choppy that the nearest point of comparison is 2001 horror romp 'Thir13en ghosts' - which, if you recall, was infamous for making some audiences physically ill with the rapid-fire kaleidoscope of visuals it subjected us to.

As strong as the narrative is, and (most of) the characters; as fine as the production looks at large, and for as much as the cast gave of themselves here? All this intelligence, heart, and craftsmanship is treated with less care, and is significantly, hugely, unquestionably overshadowed, by the persistent drive to be harder, faster, extra, More. Embellishment supersedes judicious storytelling and sincere film-making; so much effort was put into procuring spices that the effect is to render the savory meat, as it presents, stringy and gamy. This is never as entertaining as it could and should have been, and all that would have been truly necessary to improve 'Last rites' on some basic level would have been to tend to the plot first and foremost. Had that been the case, all else would have followed in turn in a manner that was more genuine, meaningful, impactful. Instead, the plot gets buried and confused as Russell, Hubbard, and others constantly try to one-up themselves.

No doubt other folks will take a look at 'The last rites of Ransom Pride' and get more out of it than I did; I'm glad for them. I found myself checked out much sooner than I could have ever anticipated, and the rest of the length was a slog, including even the climax. There was much potential here, and it was wasted in the rush for form over function; I ultimately feel bad that the cast's contributions amounted to so little. As far as I'm concerned, this is severely disappointing.

(2010) The Last Rites of Ransom Pride WESTERN

Co-written and directed by Tiller Russell directing a retribution movie starring Lizzy Caplan as she plays Juliette Flowers along with an abuser, Reverend Early Pride (Dwight Yoakam) both on a pursuing rant to go after confederate commander, Shepherd Graves (Kris Kristofferson). The name "Ransom Pride" as the title indicates is the character played by Scott Speedman who was supposed to be Juliette Flowers love interest.

The budget constraints shows despite some memorable actors such as Peter Dinkrage and Scott Speedman except that this during the time when neither of them were not part of hit franchises.

Honestly, What's with all the bad reviews? This movie is like a comic brought to life; properly. No, it doesn't have a $250 Mil budget; nor is it an Oscar winner. But man, does it entertain. Lizzy Caplan is awesomely sexy, as a take-no-prisoners gun-slinging widow, enduring being victimized and targeted by a lunatic father in law, his murderous friend and his insane nephew, a whole bunch of very barbaric men and at least one bloodthirsty voodoo witch... all while trying to keep a promise to her deceased husband. Seriously, I was very pleasantly surprised how satisfying this movie was. Ignore the haters. Just go watch it.

Edinburgh Film Festival By Martin Hoyle Published: June 25 2010 22:08 | Last updated: June 25 2010 22:08

The Last Rites of Ransom Pride, with its individuality, boldness and bizarre blend of mythic yarn-spinning, is an extraordinary debut feature. Tiller Russell's Western is set in 1912, which explains a bereaved father transporting his son's corpse across the desert in the back of a car. Add a richly caparisoned tent in the middle of nowhere housing tragic Siamese twins, one of whom is dying (which means they both are), and a bitterly articulate dwarf. There is also a disfigured Mexican voodoo priestess, a scripture-quoting killer, a code of honour, and in Lizzy Caplan (True Blood) a believably tough woman who fights, swears, beds and kills on a par with the men. Totally riveting, with a weird poetry all its own. What will Russell do next?