Westerns aren’t my forte. It’s not that I have anything against them, but I never really saddled up to the genre as a youth. I was a nerdy suburban lover of super-heroics, sci-fi and especially Horror – thanks to an early 80’s upbringing by Spielberg.
Westerns, like Steve McQueen movies and MASH reruns was the lame stuff my father was into. It was the only stuff he was into. And my sense of youthful rebellion urged me to stay clear of anything that felt best appreciated half-asleep on a La-Z-Boy. I say that now as I watch almost everything half asleep on a Lay-Z-Boy. But when I found out in late ‘94 that Sam Raimi, my beloved hero and director of Evil Dead 2, Darkman and Army of Darkness, was going to follow his awesome streak with a western, my reaction was… ‘eh, whatever. I’ll probably give it a shot on video someday’.
A couple of years later, I was visiting the family and my dad was sat comfortably enjoying a western in the den.
It was The Quick and the Dead. I ended up watching the last half with him and I absolutely adored it.
The wild angles, the constantly moving camera, the taut staging – not to mention the smouldering cast and pitch perfect soundtrack – This was Raimi in top form, and it’s since become one of my favourite films to watch whenever I want to visit the Wild West.
But mostly it makes me think of dad. -Pop