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Quigley Down Under
Quigley Down Under is a title that reads like a sequel, and this is perfectly acceptable. We see the tired, sullen American sharpshooter stepping off of a boat into the rough, tough world of turn-of-the-century Australian Outback, and we feel like we have known him all of our lives and experienced countless other adventures with him before this one. That’s because Matthew Quigley, as played by Tom Selleck, is the sum-total of every classic cowboy that has come before him. He has the cool spirit of Clint Eastwood, the square jaw of Johnny Cash, and the heroic chivalry (and right hook) of John Wayne. He is a delightful reminder of the classic B-cowboys of yesteryear. The film that he inhabits, also assembled together out of bits and pieces of the westerns that inspired it, is a likewise delightful reminder of the old-fashioned charm of the Wild West according to John Ford and Sergio Leone. Westerns will always have a special place in my heart, on the sole basis that they contain heroes that owe more to the Knights of the Round Table than to Rambo and James Bond. Today’s heroes seem to take pride in their rebellious natures: They are macho, male chauvinist, and seem to rank their success by the amount of women that they lay and the buildings that they blow up. Cowboys, on the other hand, maintain a proper, more dignified form of chivalry. They tip their hats to the ladies, fight to defend their honor, and will only fight if they’ve been wronged. If the Wild West was a man’s world, cowboys show that a man can be a gentleman and still get some action. Matthew Quigley’s adventure might not take place in the Wild West, but as far as he’s concerned, there doesn’t seem to be much difference. In the film's opening scenes, Quigley arrives in the Outback to answer an ad for a sharpshooter from a rich plantation owner. Right off the boat, things must seem like home: He defends the honor of a lady named Crazy Cora (played by Laura San Giacomo, in a role, as her name suggests, a bit more complicated than the usual damsel in distress), insults a bad guy with a cheap shot, gets into a fist fight with several well-armed gentlemen, and wins. Psychologists might call Quigley’s actions the result of the pent-up agitation of an old fashioned cowboy to see some action after three months on a boat. Others might call it preposterous and clichéd. I call it a great entrance. Quigley, accompanied by Crazy Cora, is quickly taken to his new employer, a seedy, weasel-like plantation owner named Elliott Martson. As played by Alan Rickman, he is intelligent, conniving, and he has a temper as fast as his draw. We know immediately that Martson will be the villain of the piece, because A) he dresses in black, and B) he is played by Alan Rickman. Quigley is a bit cautious of his new employer because he seems to understand the rules of the West that the bad guys always wear black. Martson seems a little slower, offers Quigley the job of killing Aborigine locals who infest the surrounding plains and deserts of his plantation, and is quickly thrown out of his window by the good-natured Quigley, who is, of course, immediately fired, beaten up by Martson’s men, and dumped in the desert to die—along with Crazy Cora, of course. I could give away more, and elaborate how Quigley and Crazy Cora will fall in love, get help from Aborigines who substitute for Native Americans, and eventually plan a Climactic Showdown with Martson. Of if you know anything about the western genre, you know that all of this is inevitable, and it’s what you came to see. In a way, B-level westerns are like James Bond films (and Bon Jovi albums, but that’s another film review). They stick to a strict formula, never straying from their course: The hero is introduced. The hero takes a stand, proving his honor. The hero gets chased. The hero has a ferocious shootout. The hero kills the bad guy. The hero gets the girl. Of course, the plotline is ridiculous, filled with lame one-liners, impossible shootouts, and a routine ending, but you must understand the nature of the B-western: This is in the tradition of Saturday matinees like Stagecoach and Rio Bravo, not award-winning characters studies like Unforgiven and Lonesome Dove (even though Simon Wincer directs both the latter and this). Quigley Down Under sticks to the formula and tells it story well. Certainly, a more complex movie would have provided us with a hero that was a little less static. A story about an American who gets stuck among the indigenous natives of the Outback could have been an effective statement about racism and coming-of-age. A bolder film would call for a racist protagonist to spend time with the Aborigines and learn to appreciate them, a la Dances with Wolves or Witness. But then again, as we watch Quigley shoot his enemies down with his 1874 Sharps Buffalo Rifle at twelve-thousand yards, we’re too busy grinning to think that deeply. With the strict formula come elements of great appeal. Selleck emits charm and dignity in the role of the modern knight. He is an acceptable modern-day replacement for John Wayne and Roy Rogers, channeling them but also creating his own sincerely noble hero. There is a moment when he teaches local Aborigines the secret of the lasso, and it strikes a perfect note—he is a completely likable guy, and that’s a rare thing in today’s action heroes. As would be expected with a western, we also get fine cinematography showcasing the Outback, superior action sequences, a rousing score, and some clever lines—particularly in the interaction between Quigley and Crazy Cora, who is a well-written heroine. Spotting these western motifs is like going down the checklist of necessary clichés, but Quigley Down Under demonstrates that they are motifs because they work.
Cast: An MGM release of a Pathé
Entertainment production. Directed by Simon Wincer. Written by
John Hill. Rated PG-13, for action-packed violence, brief language,
and occasional innuendo. Running time: 119 minutes. Original United
States theatrical release date: October 19, 1990.
Questions? Comments? E-mail me: danel_the_tinman@hotmail.com |
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