Saturday Night Cinema: Lonely are the Brave

Tonight’s Saturday Night Cinema is David Miller’s mournful masterpiece, Lonely are the Brave.

…a hymn to rugged individualism and freedom slowly being strangled to death by voracious urban development. Kirk Douglas, a Korean War vet, is a footloose cowboy who lives most of his life under the stars, going from job to job, and not averse to cutting his way through barbed-wire fences when they get in his way. His uncompromising spirit is severely challenged when he breaks out of jail after a minor offense, and the entire county’s police force tries to recapture him before he can leave the territory.

‘Lonely Are the Brave’ on a Double Bill
Published: June 28, 1962

THERE have been bigger, and more expensive Westerns, but none lately has been half as good as “Lonely Are the Brave” which must have cost Universal comparative horsefeed. This perfectly swell little Western drama, with Kirk Douglas giving one of the best performances of his career, opened yesterday on the circuits) with a broad, harmless serving of British slapstick called (“Nearly a Nasty Accident”). With a tiny cast, the simplest of story situations and a sure understanding of human behavior, this quietly penetrating film is a joy to watch.

The plot? An aging, knock-about cowpoke, who has seen better days, breaks into jail to help an old pal, then escapes and lights out for the border with the sheriff, played by Walter Matthau, in crafty pursuit. Although the picture bears down graphically on the climactic chase—with the old-timer inching his horse over the mountains as a jeep-helicopter unit closes in—it is the people themselves who matter.

From the fade-in, when Mr. Douglas and the horse are trapped in roaring highway traffic, the scene and mood are set for a contemporary character study of a dying prairie breed. And as this leathery derelict, a man not about to mark time on a dude ranch or stop at fences, Mr. Douglas is superbly convincing—a shrewd if not overly bright hero. David Miller’s disciplined, keen direction indicates real understanding of the picture’s heart, soul and humor, all stemming from one of Dalton Trumbo’s finest scripts. (“Brave Cowboy,” the title of Edward Abbey’s adapted novel, is still a better label.)

From Mr. Trumbo’s steady pen, the vignettes shaping the chase flow easily and meaningfully—the hero’s barroom fight with a mean psychotic, his warm reunion with two old friends (affectingly played by Gene Rowlands and Michael King)—until a fade-out almost too good, and moving, to be true. As the hero’s tough but human pursuer, Mr. Matthau almost matches Mr. Douglas. And credit should go to Philip Laphrop’s harsh, dusty photography and Jerry Goldsmith’s flavorsome music.

The humor in “Nearly a Nasty Accident” is the old gag about the bumbling private who literally wrecks every Army post. This middling British job has a couple of assets. One is a truly funny portrait of a bellowing, pompous captain by Jimmy Edwards. The other is the whirlwind succession of slapstick disasters involving guided missiles, planes, trains and even dishwashers. It’s all simple-minded but fast, and some customers may shake in spite of themselves.

The Casts
LONELY ARE THE BRAVE, screen play Dalton Trumbo, based on the novel, “Brave Cowboy,” by Edward Abbey; directed by David Miller; produced by Edward Lewis; released by Universal-International. At neighborhood theatres. Running time: 107 minutes.
Jack Burns . . . . . Kirk Douglas
Sheriff Johnson . . . . . Walter Matthau
Gerri Bondi . . . . . Gena Rowlands
Paul Bondi . . . . . Michael King
Hinton . . . . . Carroll O’Connor
and
NEARLY A NASTY ACCIDENT, screen play by Jack Davies and Hugh Wood-house; directed by Don Chaffey; produced by Bertram Ostrer; released by Universal-International, At neighborhood theatres. Running time: eighty-six minutes.
Wood . . . . . Kenneth Connor
Captain Kingsley . . . . . Jimmy Edwards
Jean Briggs . . . . . Shirley Eaton
Wagstaff . . . . . Richard Wattis