Mama, Take this Badge Off of Me:

A Portrait of Peckinpah

They punched him. They kicked him. They hung him out to dry and they left him to die. Time after time. But he fought back and did some hellraising of his own. The unapproved butchered truncated versions of yesterday are being forgotten. Replaced by the heroic restored versions and over time this director is increasingly being recognised as a master of subversion right under the studios nose, leaving his stamp on every piece originally conceived as routine work. Where the Hollywood hack's saw the western as a form to be copied over and over for guaranteed profit, he saw a universal frame within which to place contemporary commentary. The blood of Vietnam oozed across his yellow desert canvas. He was raised by law men and he rebelled against that exploring all the territory the legal system couldn't. To watch his work is to witness Ford's patriotic purism exposed as the work of an ignorant child whilst the shades of morality and the complexities of codes bleed on to the screen. Time is our test and we are our own judge. Once the credits roll, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Cries from behind the camera of, "If they move kill 'em". And that includes you. No audience was ever treated as a passive spectator in this man's movies. If his presentation of violence scares you, it's because he's saying even you possess it. Man is beast and years of evolution has not taken away our primordial instincts. We cannot ignore it, we cannot pretend it's not there, we cannot let it rule us, we must learn how to use it. Ladies and gentlemen, the biggest badass in cinema. Sam Peckinpah.

The Deadly Companions (1961)

Fresh out of university, Peckinpah got himself a good gig as Don Siegel's assistant. Hence, why you'll see his name attached to noticeably big projects early on such as the original '50s classic Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Originally hired as a dialogue coach but taking on greater roles as time went by. On Siegel's recommendation, Peckinpah was able to work on a few of television's hottest western shows like Gunsmoke, Have Gun – Will Travel, The Rifleman and Broken Arrow. However, the show that really established his name was The Westerner, for which he wrote and directed several episodes and garnered great acclaim. During this time he was able to learn from the best, being taught the various slow motion editing techniques that he would later become so recognisable for. After The Westerner was over, its star Brian Keith signed up for The Deadly Companions and who would he suggest for the role of director? You guessed it, Mr Peckinpah.

The Deadly Companions would set the tone for Peckinpah's entire career. For his debut he comes up with the most marvellous story about a man who never takes his hat off because he may or may not have been scalped that ends up accidentally shooting a child so he agrees to join the mother in taking the body to be buried next to a grave that may or may not be the boy's father and along the way they form an understanding. Sadly, so much of the picture is destroyed by studio meddling and over involved producers. Against his wishes, the ending was changed to this contrived one that does not fit with the rest of the film and characters betray comments they make in previous acts. Also, the producer wouldn't allow Peckinpah to give direction to the female lead, Maureen O'Hara who was his sister. O'Hara would go on to trash Peckinpah by saying he didn't have a clue what he was doing. I'd go on a rant about how she's not exactly Lauren Bacall (Who is though?) but time will get to her first. This dull prude and party pooper may have been one of the longest serving women of the studio system but in 50 years nobody will care, whereas Sam Peckinpah will be forever on the lips of aspiring filmmakers.

Often, what would happen many times in Peckinpah's career is that after the critical beating and box office disappointments, the studio would then invite him back to reedit the movie how he would have originally intended and that is exactly what happened here. Unfortunately, though by the time he was asked to come back for this one, he was long gone and too busy to accept. It's a testament to his abilities that his skills still shine through on the picture. There's these near psychedelic scenes of Native Americans continuously hunting them and when they look for the boy's father's grave there's a real poignancy. Going forwards, Peckinpah decided in future he would always demand full script control to see his vision was not compromised.

Ride the High Country (1962)

"All I want to do is enter my house justified" are the words spoken by one character in Ride the High Country. This is a direct quote from Peckinpah's childhood, his father would often repeat this phrase and so this sophomore effort marks a turning point with a more personal touch. Those wanting to see the first signs of distinctive artistry will find it here. For it is here this respected figure initially revealed to us what a Sam Peckinpah picture really was. Codes becoming compromised. Modernity crushing the landscapes and the lives these characters once called home. Shot in glorious CinemaScope, the backdrops are simply gorgeous. It recalls one of my favourite of Anthony Mann's contributions to the western, The Far Country. Both tell tales of golden greed and the final conquering and also corporatisation of the west. This realisation that the freedom and the numerous possibilities that came with the endlessness of the plains was destroyed. Dreams were shattered and as they reached land's close the hard work was for nothing as all they really did was sell off true beauty to the highest bidder. America's people had no more control over their lands than they started with and the rich firmly cemented their position as rulers. The west was lost.

I hear that if you have seen Scott and Boetticher's collaborations (I have only seen The Tall T) this becomes even more interesting as it is in direct conversation with those prior efforts. The reputation for Ride the High Country has grown in recent times with many critics pushing the message of "revisit, revisit, revisit". And they are absolutely right because it's well worth it. You may be asking yourself what did the studio (in this case MGM) do to try to sabotage this picture. The cut remains intact as intended but they were under the impression it was terrible and so tried to bury it at the bottom of a double bill. As Nicolas Winding Refn said when Amazon tried to bury his innovative TV show, the last truly great TV show to result from the oversaturated prestige and auteur television era, Too Old To Die Young, "you can't bury a diamond". Ride the High Country would go on to win prestigious prizes at Cannes and have many critics calling it the film of the year. Begging the question, when will these fucks learn?

Major Dundee (1965)

Can someone tell me how it's been 18 years since they put out the 136 restored version and the closest we'll ever get to how it was intended and still this isn't considered a western classic? It's currently stuck in the 'near great' categorisation. Surely it's been long enough to surpass that and get a full reevaluation? Unfortunately this is not the case and so we're dealing with one of the most underrated westerns of all time. Upon initial release, it was heavily chopped to pieces, reduced from 150 minutes to 125 and the story is it could have been worse if Charlton Heston hadn't stepped in and given his full salary back to the studio (Columbia) so the director could have more autonomy. It sure is a fucked up thing when the studio become so detestable and unsupportive they make Mr Cold Dead Hands appear the hero.

I'm backing this film until the end because it emphasises the most why Peckinpah is in another league entirely to John Ford. It will be of serious interest to those who have seen Ford's cavalry films that established him. My criticisms of Ford remain the same, that he's such a fucking patriotic purist that his ideas of the west quickly grew outdated, unlikeable and naïve. Playing ball, sure he deserves credit for actually showing what these people did and what they stood for. There's a vision there alright. No-one tackled the profession of cavalry men with the level of detail he did. However, the purism always destroyed the realism for me. He showed us the clean theory and idealism as practice and I never really bought it. There's a real naivety to it and notable short comings to the approach. Either you have to believe in that bullshit or you're forced to enjoy it for its camp value. As Jigsaw said, "make your choice". Instead, Peckinpah makes this Dirty Dozen type picture (in which confederate prisoners fight on the side of the unionists). The only sides are the sides of man and his ability for violence. He gives us the unionists, the confederates, the blacks, the Native Americans and the Mexicans and as usual the real enemy is within.

Peckinpah has a tendency for uncomfortably throwing children randomly in to the narrative amongst all the violence and chaos. Yet, when he does it's not Return of the Jedi. It's no excuse to sell toys and pedestrianise plots for cheap stabs at sentimentalism. No chance, this guy, like myself despises any sentimentalism and when he does venture that way he always despises himself for it making it all the more beautiful in its rarity and authenticity. Alternatively, his use of children tends to be to make crushing points. He views them as naïve and pure souls with an inability to perceive good and evil in anything other than simple terms. If you ask me, he's mocking John Ford. The cavalry trilogy may have respectably set the foundations of the genre but it's the revisionist directors approach to characters, which distances easy labels of good and bad that adds complexity and is more relatable to modern day audiences.

Noon Wine (1966)

After the disaster of Major Dundee, this grounded low budget TV movie had to be made to get him out of movie jail. Although tolerable for TV Movie standards it remains one of the worst of Peckinpah's career with dull theatrical staging and a lack of flair with the shootouts. Sitcom level limited camera set up and none of the blood spurting or flash cuts in the editing process. Only the writing is a triumph in putting his name on it. None of this bothers me though because it worked. Noon Wine went down a treat causing them to take the cuffs off our outlaw of the studio system so he could then go on to create his masterpiece The Wild Bunch. Film is a strange game that I struggle to make sense of every day. Auteurs in the studio system are not these guys who bust out masterpiece after masterpiece. Such an image is an illusion. Completely false. In reality, they are rebels who have crashed the family car multiple times but they keep finding ways for Dad to keep handing over the keys time and time again. You show them the back door and they find a side entrance. They're hustlers, swindlers and con men. They do whatever it takes to get their movie made.

The Wild Bunch (1969)

I would be of the strong opinion that this would be the greatest western from an American director. And therefore a mighty contender for the best movie of all time status. Then again I'm a romanticist for the end of any era and this is the big bloody send off. Arriving just in time for the decline of the western. The going out party. Unusually structured like Reservoir Dogs with the heist placed at the start, which goes horribly wrong. They ride in to a town where kids make scorpions fight ants and the only loot they leave with is bags of washers, setting the tone for the entire movie. Time's up for the gang! A surreal journey to make it back home amongst a rapidly fading landscape like The Human Condition Part 3 . This is the end of the line, the end of the trail and the end of west(ern) with modernity seeping in as the old way of life slowly disappears and "all you can do is pray for a quick death, which you ain't gonna get". Death is the only certainty so all you can do is work on your exit strategy. Will it be honour or cowardice? Technology advances people but in the process they lose a vital part of themselves. So toast to the death of codes in a brutal bloodbath that is sure to be enjoyed by fans of masculine action classics like Seven Samurai, The Train and Once Upon a Time in the West. It also has the hardest quote in to a "Directed By" you will ever see in the history of film. During the robbery, gang leader Pike Bishop, gives out the order of, "if they move, kill 'em" and boom straight in to the director credit. Movies don't get any harder than that. Perhaps, the most violent vision of the west and it's a miracle a studio ever made it.

For some time, I have believed the superhero genre needs to take some notes from The Wild Bunch. Since the genre is going down the toilet (if it wasn't already down there to begin with), they may as well bow out with their heads held high and just make this violent epic send off. Look to Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns, Grant Morrison's Arkham Asylum and Sean Murphy's White Knight. Finally, show us these characters aging rather than being stuck in a surreal sitcom like The Simpsons. The effects on the cities that bare superheroes. They've answered the question of why they put the mask on many times, now we need to know why they keep it on. This was almost achieved in Logan but when you hear about Wolverine coming back for Deadpool 3, what does that say? It says they can't go out with honour!

The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)

Far from what I'd call typical Peckinpah fare but he has this peculiar habit of following his most violent pictures with lighter ones just to fuck with the haters and keep them on their toes. Respect to anyone who operates like that. Constantly in conversation with himself and challenging the very image of what a Sam Peckinpah picture is perceived to be. Certainly one of his most personal outings, where critics go "shit, he has a heart!" Or "It's not all blood and guts after all!".

Personally, I see the humanism in all of his works. As he said himself once, "I'm a student of violence because I'm a student of the human heart" as well as, "the whole underside of our society has always been violence and still is. Churches, laws –everybody seems to think that man is a noble savage. But he's only an animal. A meat-eating, talking animal. Recognise it. He also has grace and love and beauty. But don't say we're not violent". Therefore, to me all his pictures have a strong beating heart and if anything a movie like The Ballad of Cable Hogue has slightly less of one because it's obvious and has less of the contradictions. Humanity is powerful because of what it is has to compete with, what it has to overcome not for what it is alone. Regardless, there is still a man seeking redemption at the centre of The Ballad of Cable Hogue and so I cannot say I don't warm to it. The Coen brothers have made an entire career out of their metatextual deconstructions of noirs and westerns, they even have a title similar to this with Buster Scruggs but there's definitely a lot of this in Raising Arizona

Straw Dogs (1971)

Back to brutal. Peaceful detour over. His nastiest picture so far, leading Pauline Kael to call it, "the first American film that is a fascist work of art"

Considering her favourite director was DW Griffith, it escapes me how she can come to this conclusion. Fascist? Perhaps. First? Absolutely not, Pauline. Straw Dogs arrived a time along with A Clockwork Orange in the early 1970s, when people were questioning whether British film was becoming too violent. When in reality they should have been tackling the questions of what was in the films. Distracted as always by the wrong element. As you may have noticed though, I mentioned this was British, Peckinpah shot this one in Cornwall, leaving me absolutely baffled how he managed to maintain the local dialect and still carry across his voice. Nothing is lost in translation.

My first meeting with Straw Dogs was back in 2017 and I still recall it like it was yesterday because it released a demon in me, one that I've been trying to make sense of and try to channel it for good ever since. Over the years, I've encountered many films like Straw Dogs with Deliverance and Wake in Fright coming to mind quickly but what makes this stand out for me is that it is a Pandora's box. You see there's a time before you watch Straw Dogs and a time after it. Frustratingly, it teaches you that it's there and that you need to deal with it but now how to, leading to one of the most bleak and darkly funny final lines ever. Dustin Hoffman drives in to the dark future, smiling at the irony as he admits he no longer knows what "home" is for him, having potentially lost his wife, house and own dignity in a single evening. The 4 walls are down. How can we ever re-build it like it was? You got about as much chance of putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. No man was ever safe from time in a Sam Peckinpah picture, the road ahead is always uncertain.

Although not an out and out horror film in form or iconography, Straw Dogs remains one of the scariest movies ever made as it brings you face to face with something you pretend doesn't exist and refuse to acknowledge deep within. Even mild mannered Dustin Hoffman, who didn't take a stand back in Yankeeland has it in him. Returning to the film more recently, the characters only seem more complex. Hoffman plays this academic type, making his descent in to the barbaric all the more shocking as he would be regarded as society's most civilised. His wife does not seem a suitable candidate for him, being intellectually inferior, prone to boredom and promiscuity. Hoffman is trying to write a book, whilst she continuously interrupts him and sabotages his work.

These back and forth mind games they play like chess until the ultimate act of betrayal when the wife is raped. Normally, I would never consider rape by an outside party to be an act of betrayal in a relationship as its forced and all that defending honour for as long as you can is bullshit. There's no choice involved and so it shouldn't be considered unfaithful. Straw Dogs rape differs though because there's a strong case to say the wife is absolutely getting her rocks off, which is why to this day the film remains controversial. How many big movies can you name where that's occurred? A woman enjoying rape, that's a conversation no-one wants to have. At first, the perpetrator is presented as a sleazy unreliable narrator but it slowly comes to fruition that the two of them may have actually had a history together. Later, she turns on her husband Hoffman by letting the perpetrator back in to their home as she sees her rapist as more protective and reliable, making some rather twisted statements about the allure of masculinity and its connection to violence. The rape scene itself has a touch of genius with its intercutting of Hoffman and the rapist who are in two separate locations but through the effect appear together. Whilst his wife is being raped, Hoffman is out doing some hunting as he pathetically shoots at some birds in the sky. Through Peckinpah's intercutting technique, Hoffman is implemented in the act and his emasculated nature revealed.

Like Witchfinder General, this could have easily been considered a western so it really isn't difficult for Peckinpah to handle a modern day setting. In many ways it serves as an improvement on Man of the West (in my opinion the finest western of the '50s) but with Peckinpah's fingerprints on it having read some Robert Ardrey, a writer who theorised that man can appear civilised only up to a point, that point being when their territory is questioned. When this line is crossed man returns to a primitive and bestial state. Hence why the famous tag line for Straw Dogs was, "Every man has a breaking point". Somehow in the face of cancel culture, talking about these things only seems more controversial than ever. If you're shocked by it and repulsed by it, then good. No director accepted it and confronted it quite like Peckinpah. Want to know what it is? Let me allow the man himself to explain, "I rise up against all those that hide or ignore the social and moral aspects of violence. It's part of our existence; it's within us. I recognise that I am a violent man. I believe that human begins must try at any price, to recognise and track down the violence brewing within him. This is also one of the artist's roles. The most dangerous people in our society and any society are those who ignore their inner potential for violence...There is a great streak of violence in every human being. If it is not channelled and understood it will break out in war or madness".

Junior Bonner (1972)

As Peckinpah puts it, "I made a film where nobody got shot and nobody went to see it". Catch me in the corner like Christopher Moltisanti shouting, "Junior Bonner, I liked it!". There was never an issue with the critical reception, only that old chestnut of no bums on seats. Don't you just hate the game of numbers? Junior Bonner's the type of soulful quiet film that gets me all rambunctious like a late era Paul Schrader movie that speaks to me directly. Thematically it has its links to the great neo-westerns of Hud and The Lusty Men, covering the lives of ranchers and rodeo men in days following the wild west when the destructive forces of modern capitalism emerge. Something gets me all hot and heavy about the idea of the rodeo, especially the aging men still caught in the scene. Dumb jackasses refusing to take off their cowboy hats and boots, risking their lives to evoke the old traditions and provide their townsfolk with some entertainment to brighten their day. 8 seconds in the saddle before the bull throws them off is their goal and that 8 seconds is everything. Life stops and all meaning and purpose comes down to that 8 seconds. These local losers are like heroes to me so a movie like Junior Bonner probably moves me more than it should. It's another softer response to a violent previous film but this one has less of the annoying quirky aspects Ballad of Cable Hogue had. It's truthful and honest, it really moves me. There's quote in particular that summarises what this film is about to me, Junior's business minded brother confronts him and says, "I'm working on my first million and you are still working on 8 seconds"

The Getaway (1972)

Poor financial returns on the compassionate Junior Bonner led to the cuffs being hooked back on Peckinpah's hands and another stay up in cinema penitentiary. The quick thinking front man and alibi Steve McQueen had to present Hollywood with Jim Thompson's novel and promise of a more commercial project to allow Peckinpah early parole. Critical verdict was generally divided between those giving in to it as entertaining and those who considered it empty. In retrospective reviews, there is acknowledgement of where Peckinpah makes this his own. The script comes from Walter Hill, who like he did with The Driver, updates noir classics like The Killing and The Asphalt Jungle. Peckinpah picks up where he left with Straw Dogs by having two couples committing the crimes and locked in a game of professionalism. So it does have that Melville style use of pulp as character study even if it is to a lesser degree. Obviously, in Peckinpah's hands its every bit as ferocious as what William Friedkin would dominate the '70s with.

There's a truth to all the differing takes on The Getaway, it's no Straight Time or Le Circle Rouge and it's definitely closer to The Outfit in standard but I'd have definitely been careful not to say anything too negative about it at the time. Can't be getting in the way of a good character reference sent in to grant early parole. Annoys me that you'd attack this film knowing Peckinpah's clearly playing the game and finding his way back in to the system. Sadly, Hollywood doesn't protect its directors like France, so you have to visualise the long game and not get in the way of the sneaky tricks. Things could get worse than having the coolest motherfucker to ever grace the screen, Steve McQueen, shooting at the cops in broad daylight for some good old heist action. Thankfully, the ploy worked and the fish took the bait as MGM funded him to make what would be his next masterpiece...

Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973)

Back in his writing days, prior to being in the director's chair, Peckinpah wrote a script on Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid that was then reworked in to becoming what we know today as One Eyed Jacks. Marlon Brando's single directorial effort that is rumoured to be Martin Scorsese's personal favourite western. Eventually, Peckinpah went back and dug his old script out, polished it off and gave us this incredible piece. Expectations were high as it would be his western follow up to The Wild Bunch. Everyone was left disappointed by a disjointed narrative that didn't flow and its meaning was incomprehensible. In plain, the studio were wanting just another quick re-hash of an old story and didn't care for Peckinpah's interpretation of an old story. They wanted the studio hack and not the artist. Did Peckinpah make a bad movie? No, he did not. Once again the studio (MGM) had tampered with his vision and released the truncated version at 106 minutes. Why? Why? Why? They keep fucking doing this and it's for the benefit of no-one. It really pisses me off that they would repeatedly do this. In anger, nearly the entire cast removed their names from it, setting a new record for which there wasn't enough Alan Smithees about to fix the problem.

Against the studios wishes, Peckinpah went and re-edited it to create the preview version that lasted 124 minutes, which he showed to his family and friends to prove it was no failure. On the back of completing Mean Streets, Scorsese witnessed this cut and hailed it Peckinpah's best film since The Wild Bunch. The reputation of the preview version grew with each screening and consequently it was released on video in 1988. Now as a slightly more commercial release, critics could see how it was intended and so began the re-evaluation. After it was being talked about as one of the greatest westerns, a more official release arrived in 2005 at 115 minutes, referred to as the 'special edition'. For those conflicted over which version to choose, the special edition has my vote. Its closest to what Peckinpah had in mind and looks the best because the sad part is when you make a rogue cut on the side you don't always have access to the original negatives and so the quality can notably drop in places, which can't always be fixed later with the Blu-Ray. Their main use is in fixing narrative issues and pissing the studio off.

Most importantly, the Special Edition retains Bob Dylan's 'Knockin' On Heaven's Door'. Peckinpah believed Dylan (who had never written a film score before) had been pushed on to him by the studio and his usual composer Fielding had been dismissed unfairly to account for modern tastes and trends. Therefore, he removed as many pieces as possible from in his version including the main single. The star of the picture, Kris Kristofferson would later state, "Unfortunately Sam...had a blind spot there" and that the use of Heaven's Door was the strongest use of music he had ever heard in a film. I can only agree. When it comes on, you get this wide shot of the lake cutting straight in to a mid-shot of the guy looking straight in to the camera whilst holding his bleeding chest as he takes his final breaths. In the last year, no moment has touched me in cinema quite like that one. It was a direct assault on the soul. Maybe that was the moment, when the old west(ern) died then and there, before our very eyes. It will haunt me as an image until I die.

During the early '70s, popular music began to infiltrate its way into film. On the underground circuit, Kenneth Anger would kick off this idea with his experimental short film Scorpio Rising. This would then influence Scorsese, who would play hit after hit in Mean Streets. Westerns would see the change in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and McCabe & Mrs Miller. If McCabe & Mrs Miller was Leonard Cohen's west, then Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is Bob Dylan's west. For those yet to experience this beauty, remember the opening scene of The Big Lebowski? When The Man in Me strikes your ear drums and the joyous feeling can only be described as unmistakably homely. Imagine that but for 2 hours straight.

Arguably, it's a spiritual sequel to The Wild Bunch with this whole idea of trying to come back home one last time and live this peaceful existence before your time is cut short. This tragic story whereby you pick two directions: one of freedom, where you live on the run forever being chased and looking for your next score. Or you join the law, compromise every ideal you ever had and sell out all your friends just for regular pay. No longer wondering about your next meal but having given up any reason to live. Weirdly feels exactly like the two directions that have always been presented to Peckinpah working in the film industry so it feels so damn personal. Yeah confession time, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, The Wild Bunch and Once Upon a Time in the West can fight it out for the best western of all time but Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is my personal favourite. Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid ends with Garrett shooting a mirror to emphasise him losing a piece of himself and then riding off into the distance. Peckinpah, a PTSD war vet, was known to shoot mirrors in anger and after the poor response to this film, he went riding off in the distance (Mexico) with people wondering whether they would ever see or hear from him again...

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)

Despite being absolutely mind blown by the artistic beauty of The End of Evangelion and As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty , this remains my personal favourite new watch of 2023. Apparently, this is Takeshi Kitano's favourite movie of all time, really illustrating the dark and comedic places this sun drenched horror western goes to. It's a film of real anger and self-loathing, arriving when Peckinpah was in the midst of serious alcoholism following a breakdown brought on by the experience of Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid's mauling by the studio and critics. Therefore, it offers the rare opportunity of seeing a director lose the plot in the most artistic way before your very eyes. Being able to do the switch from violence to wholesome demonstrates a remarkable range and it's all well and good but there's no topping the switch from violence to all out insanity, making one two pounding of Pat Garret and Alfredo Garcia probably the best two film run in film history.

You may never see a grimmer and more morbid plot either. Upon hearing that his daughter is pregnant, a gangster puts a contract out on the soon to be father's head. As you may have guessed the father's name is Alfredo Garcia. Garcia's friend, a Piano player, Bennie (Warren Oates), takes on the mission and drags his prostitute girlfriend on board. The task should be simple, considering Bennie knows that Garcia is already dead and better yet where he is buried. Together, they journey towards the grave to collect the head of their former friend.

A common criticism upon release was that this road movie runs out of road quickly. However, I believe these critics miss the point entirely. The nothingness and despair along the way is the point. This is a form of storytelling where you start with the small and incidental, then you carry that all the way until it becomes this Herculean task in a psychedelic surrealist sense forever changing the lives of every character involved. A kind of magic near impossible to replicate as the director channels in his own inner breakdown, bordering on the truly disorienting existentialism that the Coen brothers are known for. Making this an absolute treat for fans of No Country For Old Men , Fargo and Barton Fink. Man of the West makes its return in a horrible Straw Dogs style moment. There's definitely a novelistic approach in the narrative that could be described as near Burroughsian and you don't just fear for the characters but for the filmmaker too.

His regular producer Gordon T. Dawson never worked with Peckinpah again after this and said, "he really lost it on Alfredo. It tore my heart right out". You can really feel that watching the movie. Reflecting on it, Peckinpah later expressed some positivity in that good or bad, it was his film without the usual studio meddling. Good for him. When we're dealing with a scarred alcoholic roaming the Mexican countryside with his prostitute girlfriend, picking out crabs from his pubic hairs, proposing to her whilst in a field in the middle of nowhere, caving in to insanity and talking to a decapitated head, I can't think of a story which captures the entire experience of what a Funeralopolis story is meant to be. Completely disgusting, horrible and near irredeemable but under the surface oddly romantic and hopeful. If you can get on its level.

The Killer Elite (1975)

This has little to do with the convoluted dumb fun thriller starring Robert De Niro, Jason Statham and Clive Owen shared to baffled audiences in 2011. Although, they are both near nonsensical and difficult to follow. That is something they do share in common. The Killer Elite is regarded as one of Peckinpah's worst films. Well, what happened here is that its star, James Caan, introduced the already alcohol addicted director to cocaine. Probably not the best idea in hindsight. Caan self-rated the film a 0 out of 10. Peckinpah was famous for stating that he couldn't direct a film sober. Whilst his career is generally proof of this statement, The Killer Elite is evidence that there is a too far though at the other end of the scale. Despite being lumped in with The Getaway as empty entertainment, there are those who defend it by picking out the battle between mercenaries caught in a proxy war as being an allegory for Peckinpah's treatment by the studio. This may be reaching but it's hard to stay mad at coke fuelled movie with ninjas and surprisingly great set pieces. Pauline Kael may be right though about this being a genre satire. My man's just having a good time.

Cross of Iron (1977)

By most accounts, his final work of true greatness. His only war movie and yet he seems right at home in the genre, playing it out as you'd expect with orgiastic violence, pure cynicism and a subversive tone only Samuel Fuller could match. A stylistic trend of Peckinpah's that divides people is the slow motion, unique cutting and squib heavy antics. On this subject, he would say, "well, killing a man isn't clean and quick and simple. It's bloody and awful. And maybe if enough people come to realise that shooting somebody isn't fun and games, maybe we'll get somewhere". Even today, his method of filming violence is still striking because it stretches the moments out longer to capture the pain involved and how some events can be perceived to last longer than they do. He communicates this manipulation of time through his particular techniques that are as recognisable as a Monet painting. Therefore, I can only approve and compliment the style.

Iron Cross is not your typical war movie, joining All Quiet on the Western Front in being from the German's perspective. Don't let this fool you in to thinking this is an endorsement of fascism. Peckinpah has used the entire thing as an excuse to basically put men alone together in a bunker discussing their own misogyny, notions of class and primitive urges. The war giving them full reason to finally fulfil them. Politics is the sham. The song and dance. War is the truthful extension when no-ones watching and the law holds no value. Exactly, the kind of apocalypse Peckinpah has been building to throughout his career. As Coburn's character declares, "at least here we're free". For the millionth time, in case we didn't know, Peckinpah hates his fellow man. Almost as much as he hates himself. This is his final warning to take control of man's urges, otherwise get used to these troubling images on screen because this is the world we shall live in.

Convoy (1978)

A noble attempt at recapturing the success of the low stakes popular favourite Smokey and the Bandit. Naturally, this causes critics to lump it in with The Killer Elite and The Getaway as part of his empty entertainment pictures. The ones where under the influence of alcohol and various drugs, he struggles to subvert them and put his own signature on them. Let me make it clear though, if you want to find the gold in these weaker efforts, be my guest. Wouldn't stop you. Considering I happen to love those easy going old '70s AIP and NWP carsploitation movies, Convoy was nothing but pleasurable. Plus, like I do with the aging rodeo folk, I have a real soft spot for the 'trucker' character. Hence, why I love the trashy Dennis Hopper movie Space Truckers probably way more than I should. Any unpretentious movie about working class outlaw heroes sticking it to the law is alright in my book.

The Osterman Weekend (1983)

And so my man goes out with another of these commercial 'empty entertainment' films like Convoy, The Killer Elite and The Getaway disappointing all the critics. Look, there could be worse things than getting back on the coke and hooking your claws in to some Robert Ludlum. Peckinpah's bizarre re-imagining of a Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy type movie deserves to be seen for its coke fuelled mayhem. True to form even on his final movie, the studios took the film away from him and re-edited and so we had to wait years later for the final version. Just a running joke at this point isn't it. Yet, even in the extended version, this is still very convoluted and illogical becoming near impossible to keep track of who's on who's side. Peckinpah doesn't seem to care much. He's just having fun with the set pieces and parodying the paranoia of post-Watergate thrillers. Therefore, it's meant to be a little confusing going more for this psychedelic spy movie like Videodrome. Semi-convinced he thought he got sent the wrong Ludlum novel and accidentally adapted Jason Bourne instead. Or perhaps that's just the way Ludlum operates. This big pile of nonsense strangely became Peckinpah's highest grossing movie.

At the end of it all, I don't think there's anyone who would have preferred Peckinpah not to go out with a masterpiece. Even the defenders of his commercial projects. Personally, I've always wondered why this man was never handed Blood Meridian. There will never be anyone more suited to the project than he was. Making it forever a tragedy. Perhaps, the greatest in cinema. Regardless, we have to recognise sometimes commercial entertainment is needed to stay in the game after financial flops. Not many studio directors other than say Tarantino or Nolan have the luxury of being able to sit and plan their careers out. Fact is the majority of directors have to take what's given to them and do the best with what they can. Peckinpah once jokingly referred to himself as a whore ready to be pimped out at any moment but he always had a sense of humour and treated everything he came in to contact with a hint of irony. He fought from within and attempted to make everything his own, once stating that, "I want to make westerns the way Kurosawa makes westerns". Essentially, acknowledging that the form is already there as template but you need to filter in your subconscious if you want to have any hope of being an artist.

Forever chased by his own inner demons, alcohol and drugs allowed him to wrestle with those artistically. Admittedly though these could occasionally make him volatile, losing control over pictures as they slipped in to being decent routine studio hack jobs rather than the subversions promised. At the same time, this is a tough game and sometimes you've got to be clever to stay alive and by being clever that means being dumb. In all honesty, if having shootouts with cops, bar fights, car chases and crashes, CIA conspiracies, ninjas, assassins and working class truckers are considered real low points in your career, then you're probably the best director of all time. Every time I watch one of his restored cuts, it really moves me to think this man didn't get the kind of critical appreciation he deserved in his time and any respect achieved has been gained over time and through trusted followers who kept the faith. In spite of the critical bashings, he just kept going and going. Through the madness, the violence and the addiction. Further and further in to himself. Creating these masterpieces, refusing to compromise and then time proving his greatness.

I hope he entered his house justified and throughout this I have managed to convey a sense of why this director means a lot to me. Lastly, I will close with this quote about him from Paul Schrader, "Sam really was an outlaw sensibility. He did not feel comfortable in civilised company. And the only way he seemed to be able to make a film was if he got himself in such dire straits that he'd be forced back to work. A lot has been written about the poetry of violence and how he was able to take very violent stuff and personalise it in a very sad and beautiful way. It moves me a lot. One of the things I like about Wild Bunch, which I think is a great film, is it doesn't shy away, you know, here are some people, they're killers, they're psychopaths, they're chauvinists, they're misogynists and they're fascists but God help me I love them so and I'm gonna make a movie about them and he can simultaneously convey his love for these people without trying to make them look better than they are and you know there's a complex morality there that's kind of exciting. Peckinpah's artistic struggle was like the struggle of a drunk pulling himself off the ballroom floor until he fully got prone on the floor he really wasn't able to pull himself back up so his greatest work really comes from the notion of you know you thought I was out but here I come back. I think Peckinpah is a great American director"

"You're talking a lot but you're not saying anything!", says the supremely talented David Byrne in the Talking Heads hit Psycho Killer. Such a statement applies when discussing A24s latest uninspired offering Past Lives. A classic reminder that just because you shoot this all fancy doesn't change the nature of the source material. What is this you ask? This is basically a John Green book. Written quickly and lashed on to the shelves every summer for a white girl to pick up in WH Smiths before her big beach holiday. Something low stakes and easy going that can be read by the pool in between beverages. Please don't see that as an attack on that market. Had this movie have played out in the manner fitting to its classmates, I'd have probably respected it more. There is simply no need for all these pretentions. Call up Julia Roberts, Emma Roberts or whoever the fuck, let's get the wine in and have a good time. What we don't got to do is pretend we're something we're not.

Past Lives announces the arrival of yet another fraud in new comer Celine Song. The next in line to spoon feed cheap Asianness for all the American fetishists out there and reap the rewards. Have we learnt nothing from hacks like Chloe Zhao? But oh how we must praise this as we go one ladder up from orientalism. This bandying around movies based on false progressiveness over quality is a sickness. Streaming services getting out their support cards out and having entire sections dedicated to themes such as "Black History Month" only irritate me personally. Are you going to tell me that movies such as Black and Blue and 42 represent the peak of black artistry? Either put in the work and find the talent or don't bother because quite frankly its embarrassing and a complete mockery to these cultures. Luckily, Past Lives is nowhere near as disgusting in content and as incompetent as John M. Chu's Crazy Rich Asian's but to call it a pleasant experience would be far from the truth.