The engagingly kicked-back seriocomic slice-of-life picture was one of the more beguiling sub-genres which flourished in the 70's. This disarmingly quirky, low-key, easygoing cult favorite is one of the best of the bunch. Jeff Bridges and Sam Waterson are both very much in their wry element as two indolent, disaffected, shiftless smartaleck country youths -- Jeff's a quick-tempered white boy; Sam's his more level-headed Native American buddy -- who make their living by blasting cows and selling the meat to the highest bidder. Gruff, truculent rancher Clifton James, mighty ticked off about his livestock being decimated, hires an aged, irascible, but extremely shrewd stock detective (a lively, marvelous performance by the always wonderful Slim Pickens) to put a stop to the increasingly irksome and costly cattle rustling.
Tom McGuane's sharply written script acts as an acidic, witty and insightful meditation on the sad, unfortunate, painfully protracted passing of the glorious Old West and the gaudy, corrupt, superficial money-grubbing New West that's being erected in its place. Frank Perry's able direction, aided by William Fraker's sparkling cinematography and a catchy, flavorsome country and western score by Jimmy Buffett which kicks out the clop-hoppin' jams something nice (Buffett himself can be glimpsed performing "Livingston Saturday Night" on stage at a honkytonk bar with none other than an uncredited Warren Oates playing harmonica), does McGuane's superb script full justice, thereby producing a leisurely paced and pleasingly off-center charmer which effortlessly draws viewers into its uniquely oddball laid-back universe without ever becoming too forced or cloying about it. And the top-rate supporting cast couldn't be better: Harry Dean Stanton and Richard Bright as a pair of useless nitwit ranch hands, Elizabeth Ashley as James' bored, neglected wife, the delectable Patti D'Arbanville as Bridges' ditsy girlfriend, Charlene Dallas as Pickens' seemingly sweet and innocent grand niece, and Joe Spinell as Waterson's concerned, mellow, philosophical Native American father. Ashley, Stanton, Spinell and Oates also appear in McGuane's sole directorial effort, the similarly splendid and endearingly idiosyncratic treat "92 in the Shade."
Tom McGuane's sharply written script acts as an acidic, witty and insightful meditation on the sad, unfortunate, painfully protracted passing of the glorious Old West and the gaudy, corrupt, superficial money-grubbing New West that's being erected in its place. Frank Perry's able direction, aided by William Fraker's sparkling cinematography and a catchy, flavorsome country and western score by Jimmy Buffett which kicks out the clop-hoppin' jams something nice (Buffett himself can be glimpsed performing "Livingston Saturday Night" on stage at a honkytonk bar with none other than an uncredited Warren Oates playing harmonica), does McGuane's superb script full justice, thereby producing a leisurely paced and pleasingly off-center charmer which effortlessly draws viewers into its uniquely oddball laid-back universe without ever becoming too forced or cloying about it. And the top-rate supporting cast couldn't be better: Harry Dean Stanton and Richard Bright as a pair of useless nitwit ranch hands, Elizabeth Ashley as James' bored, neglected wife, the delectable Patti D'Arbanville as Bridges' ditsy girlfriend, Charlene Dallas as Pickens' seemingly sweet and innocent grand niece, and Joe Spinell as Waterson's concerned, mellow, philosophical Native American father. Ashley, Stanton, Spinell and Oates also appear in McGuane's sole directorial effort, the similarly splendid and endearingly idiosyncratic treat "92 in the Shade."