Arthur Penn’s Western is funny, humane and sometimes too eager to explain its morals. Dustin Hoffman keeps the tall tale moving, and Chief Dan George gives it feeling that survives the more laboured passages.
Arthur Penn’s Little Big Man is a good Western with a habit of explaining things we have already understood. Its comedy is broad, its anger is serious, and the movement between them can be clumsy. Yet Dustin Hoffman gives Jack Crabb enough personality to carry the film through its looser stretches, while Chief Dan George supplies some welcome warmth. There is enough pleasure here to forgive the unevenness, though the preaching takes more patience.
Calder Willingham’s screenplay, adapted from Thomas Berger’s novel, has a useful starting point in the question of Crabb’s reliability. A forgotten hero and an extravagant liar can both be entertaining company, provided the actor does not keep asking for our approval. Dustin Hoffman lets the exaggeration stand, giving us room to enjoy its cheek. The broadness is part of the pleasure, even when the film pushes it further than it needs to.
Chief Dan George gives Old Lodge Skins a different pace. We were moved by the dignity he brings to the philosophical passages, because he makes the thoughts feel personal and carefully considered. There is humour in the performance, too, without the constant pressure to turn a character into a comic example. He gives these passages enough ease that we want to stay with him, even when the surrounding film seems impatient to make another point.
Harry Stradling’s cinematography gives the film a handsome scale without making its size the whole attraction. Dean Tavoularis’s production design lends substance to a story whose exaggerations could otherwise become exhausting. We need to believe there is a place beyond the joke, and their work helps us do that. The images accommodate both the burlesque and the serious material; the screenplay is less comfortable moving between them.
Dede Allen’s editing faces the harder problem of making these encounters feel like a continuous experience. Individual passages have energy, but the accumulation is uneven, and some stay after the point has been made. At 139 minutes, the film gives us enough time to notice which diversions are entertaining and which are merely postponing the next encounter. The writing compounds that problem by pressing its moral lessons long after their meaning is clear.
John Paul Hammond’s music offers a welcome looseness, although it cannot smooth out every change of tone. Arthur Penn is attempting something worthwhile: a Western that makes its familiar heroic claims look doubtful and gives historical wrongs their weight. The film becomes less persuasive when its people are caricatures arranged to make that case. A revisionist Western still needs to let its characters surprise us, and here we can sometimes recognise their allotted purpose too quickly.
Give it an evening when a wandering Western sounds inviting. The occasional drag is worth bearing for Dustin Hoffman and Chief Dan George, especially if broad comedy appeals more than solemn heroics. Anyone who needs a tight plot should look elsewhere.