The movie version of A. B. Guthrie, Jr.'s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Way West is scenic but uncompelling. Reading the book, which is the middle volume of the Big Sky Trilogy (between The Big Sky and Fair Land, Fair Land), the reader feels that he or she has been along on the first (1843) wagon train on what was to become the Oregon Trail. Watching the 1967 movie, the viewer sees a trio of highly competent male stars who appeared in many westerns—Kirk Douglas, Robert Mitchum, and Richard Widmark—and the first movie appearance of Sally Field (already hammy). The movie (directed by the undistinguished director Andrew McLaglen, who mostly worked on television projects) shows various difficulties of the trip and some spectacular western scenery (from various Oregon locales, none from further east), but it's hard to care very much what happens to anyone on the trek.

As the sadomasochistic leader with delusions of being a new Moses, the former senior senator from Illinois, Captain Tadlock (Kirk Douglas) has the showiest role, a sort of American Captain Bligh sailing a prairie schooner and lashing others to revolt. In the book, disaffection with his leadership style (and bad decisions) mounts gradually to what Tadlock sees as a mutiny, though it is more a referendum that replaces him with the less arrogant farmer Lije Evans (Widmark). In the movie, it is much more a personal conflict between the arrogant self-anointed superman (Tadlock) and ye olde common man (Evans) who doesn't seek fights, but fights when necessary..

As the guide, a former beaver-trapper "mountain main," Robert Mitchum is not as special as is the Dick Summer in the Big Sky trilogy. It is Robert Mitchum in a funny hat, but otherwise the standard detached but able Mitchum persona. The crucial role of "Brownie" Evans is played by an unimpressive red-headed boy named Michael McGreevey. Although he doesn't do anything particularly wrong in playing the role, he doesn't do much to engage audience identification, either. He lacks charisma, but it could not have been obvious to 1967 filmgoers that Sally Field was destined for stardom and a pair of Oscars, either. Indeed, she is less credible here than McGreevey. McGreevey was served badly by script or editing in that there is no indication that he is in love with Mercy (Field) before he blurts out the information to her. It would have been easy enough to have shown him gazing longingly at her earlier on.

The Blackfeet, the primary Native Americans throughout the Big Sky trilogy are nearly invisible in this movie (the exception is an older man introduced as the father-in-law of a Hudson Bay Company official). The extended central confrontation (and the best part of the movie) involves Sioux. (I don't want to give away details of the plot).

The soap opera aspects, particularly a vengeful harridan widow, Mrs. Mack (Katherine Justice) are played up and the movie's plot is less epic, considerably more melodramatic than the book. I guess that it is close to being redundant to say that the book is better, but, nonetheless, this is a considerable understatement for this instance of prize-winning novel-to-screen adaptation. The book is moving and engaging. The movie is neither.

The cinematography of William H. Clothier (who worked on some late John Ford movies) is impressive, but the viewer does not know where on the way the travelers are, how far they have gone, how far they have yet to go. . . . or much care if they get there.



Recommended:
No