The titular animal is missing for most of the movie, ostensibly stolen by John Saxon but more likely consumed by Marlon Brando, who gives early evidence of the result of his oral fetish. All those bananas he stuffed down his throat in ONE-EYED JACKS and MUTINY ON THE BOUNTY have caught up with him on this set, where there is clearly a lot less effort made to let out his costumes before each take. Fortunately, he preferred in his Westerns to dress more or less as he had in JULIUS CAESAR, with various serapes and ponchos arranged toga-style for a sweeping, heroic effect that accents his shoulders and minimizes his belly.
Sidney J. Furie manages to stay out of his own way, which is more than can be said for much of his work at this stage of his career. His fashionable mid-60s obsession with close-ups this time heightens tension without dating the movie's look too much - no more, anyway, than Sergio Leone's angles and editing date his own. However, like many a mid-period Brando director, Furie fails to cajole more than an occasional snort of derision from his Clydesdale-sized star. Warhorse Roland Kibbee and pre-Oscar James Bridges contribute some choice dialog but seem to have differed over the pace - Kibbee's scripts tend to drag a little for my taste, as he cut his teeth on 50s costume epics, while Bridges' zoom right along; as a result, APPALOOSA is alternately sluggish and spastic. Still, it is peppered with perversities enough to retain interest, including gunpoint penance, flyblown pulque, and a scorpion-spiced arm wrestling contest.
Brando's chief contribution is a pretty good Mexican accent, which doesn't fool any Mexicans but seems to keep him entertained. Its usefulness to the plot is questionable, and it looks rather as if it was adopted simply to amuse the easily distracted 300 pound gorilla at the center of the production. Whatever. Brando at his most lethargic is still more watchable than Tom Cruise jumping on furniture. He is ably supported by a game, sunburned Saxon, an unusually sober Emilio Fernandez, and an apparently stoned Anjanette Comer, who masticates a series of limes as if they contain the cure for the Curse of the Exotic Ingenue. (Perhaps they did, as she neither married Brando nor committed suicide after co-starring with, or simply meeting, him.)
Sidney J. Furie manages to stay out of his own way, which is more than can be said for much of his work at this stage of his career. His fashionable mid-60s obsession with close-ups this time heightens tension without dating the movie's look too much - no more, anyway, than Sergio Leone's angles and editing date his own. However, like many a mid-period Brando director, Furie fails to cajole more than an occasional snort of derision from his Clydesdale-sized star. Warhorse Roland Kibbee and pre-Oscar James Bridges contribute some choice dialog but seem to have differed over the pace - Kibbee's scripts tend to drag a little for my taste, as he cut his teeth on 50s costume epics, while Bridges' zoom right along; as a result, APPALOOSA is alternately sluggish and spastic. Still, it is peppered with perversities enough to retain interest, including gunpoint penance, flyblown pulque, and a scorpion-spiced arm wrestling contest.
Brando's chief contribution is a pretty good Mexican accent, which doesn't fool any Mexicans but seems to keep him entertained. Its usefulness to the plot is questionable, and it looks rather as if it was adopted simply to amuse the easily distracted 300 pound gorilla at the center of the production. Whatever. Brando at his most lethargic is still more watchable than Tom Cruise jumping on furniture. He is ably supported by a game, sunburned Saxon, an unusually sober Emilio Fernandez, and an apparently stoned Anjanette Comer, who masticates a series of limes as if they contain the cure for the Curse of the Exotic Ingenue. (Perhaps they did, as she neither married Brando nor committed suicide after co-starring with, or simply meeting, him.)