There are no heroes in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. There is no one worth admiring or whose shadow is worth worshiping; no one you would want to bring home to the family or whom you would ever admire as a mentor. The players are thieves, liars, cowards, adulterers and murders – not a hero among them.
The film lacks the archetypal battle between good and evil that normally reigns supreme in most epics. Instead, it’s replaced by the psychological battle between the two. Jesse James breaks into sobs near his horse after unnecessarily beating a young boy senseless. Robert Ford’s beady eyes twitch with pride and remorse as he begins to aim his pistol at the back of his hero’s head. It is their downward spiral into hell that maintains focus and importance in the film – their journey, rather than their destination.
Yet, while the film remains grounded in the importance of the psychological struggles of these villains, its sense of eerie mythology makes their journey into hell an epic one.
The story covers several years, miles and miles of countryside and dozens of lives along the way. It’s the stuff of legends. And while it’s hard to separate fact from fiction, truth from some campfire myth passed down through the generations, it is that gray haze of uncertainty that makes The Assassination of Jesse James as hauntingly unforgettable as it is downright mesmerizing.
The film follows the legendary obsession of the young Robert Ford (Casey Affleck) with the infamous outlaw Jesse James (Brad Pitt). It is one of the most savage and often heartbreaking tales of betrayal in American history. With the doom of a Homerian epic and the heartbreak of Shakespearian tragedy, the film raises itself above the stereotype of the modern American western to become a masterfully poetic saga of retribution and absolution.
A film that works just as much as an intimate character study as it does a sprawling Western epic, Jesse James is a subtle but menacing film that manages to give away the ending in the title, yet still keep you on the edge of your seat until the credits begin to roll. It’s a mournful ballad of hopelessness and despair that never sides with any of the characters, never justifies their actions or their mistakes – it simply observes, telling the audience not to worry about the end, but instead, allows them the sit back and enjoy the means.
With the success of last month’s 3:10 to Yuma fresh in the minds of moviegoers around the country, one shouldn’t expect the rock ‘n’ roll pace of the shoot ’em up Yuma. Instead, Jesse James plays out slowly, like a melancholy folk song. And while the 160-minute running time might test the patience of the Western fan looking for the next Unforgiven, this film plays more for the fans of character-driven Westerns such as The Long Riders or McCabe and Mrs. Miller. It’s not about the gunshot, but the eerie silence and the calm pause before the trigger is pulled.
Jesse James rests on a solid foundation of an ensemble of knockout performances. Pitt is terrific; he takes what could have easily become a performance based solely on his charisma and flawless smile and really working to show the darker side to America’s original gangster. He is often unrecognizable under his sunken eyes and his mental slips into the consuming blackness of constant paranoia are poignantly but appropriately subtle and fascinating. He alternates seamlessly between tenderness, paranoia, self-revulsion and bloodlust.
Still, it is Affleck who steals the film from Pitt, giving one of the best performances of the year as the "coward" Robert Ford. Since Affleck doesn’t have to work as hard as Pitt to convince the world that he isn’t a mega celebrity, he has more time to focus on his character and manages to become so enigmatic and downright disturbing that his submission into this character will haunt you several days after you’ve left the theater. He is truly a revelation. Both Sam Rockwell (as Robert Ford’s older brother) and Sam Shepard (as Jesse James’ older brother) also give applaud-worthy performances, showing that they’re both actors made for westerns in a time when they’re very rarely ever made.
Still, the top honor of the film can easily be handed to director of photography Roger Deakins. Deakins’ cinematography is a gorgeously subtle as it is poetically epic. The artistry of every sequence is simply stunning, as you could take out any moment from the film, teach an entire class of cinematography on it, frame it, and then hang it above your fireplace. From his open shots of gorgeously haunting American landscape to his beautifully tragic silhouettes of our doomed villains walking away into the fiery hell of another western sunset, Deakins’ cinematography adds a heightened sense of class to an already faultless prestige film.
The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is a masterpiece of tragedy and betrayal, told in a time when honor and treachery were never too far apart. With epic storytelling, mesmerizing performances and flawless cinematography, this is one of the first truly great films of the year. It sets to remind us that in a time of mythology, there is not always room for heroes. In the time of despair, there is no time for hope.
In the times of darkness, the villain reigns supreme.
