Right up front, I have to say that I am a massive fan of THE WILD BUNCH, a movie I consider to be in the same league as CITIZEN KANE, REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, and THE GODFATHER as among the finest American films ever made. W.K. Stratton, the author of THE WILD BUNCH: SAM PECKINPAH, A REVOLUTION IN HOLLYWOOD, & THE MAKING OF A LEGENDARY FILM is a huge fan as well. And Stratton’s book is certainly written for other fans like me, but I think those unfamiliar with the details of how this classic western came to be, and why it has endured, will learn a lot. Upon its release in the summer of 1969, THE WILD BUNCH caused an uproar with its depiction of violence, both in its opening scene, where a group of aging outlaws attempt to rob a railroad office in 1913 Texas, to its finale, where the surviving members of the gang try to redeem themselves by saving a fellow outlaw from a sadistic Mexican general, taking on a small army in the process. The use of squibs to replicate bullet wounds, a new technological advance, took movie carnage to new level, and not everyone was pleased. The film was savaged by many critics, embraced by others (including a young Roger Ebert) and hotly debated in a way very few movies are anymore. THE WILD BUNCH was controversial, it made an impact, and its legacy has been enormous.

Stratton’s book does cover some familiar ground for anyone who has read the works of Paul Seydor, along with David Weddle’s in-depth biography of Sam Peckinpah. What Stratton does is give us a deep dive into how THE WILD BUNCH went from a movie stuntman’s idea in the early ‘60s, to a written screenplay shopped around to studios, to how it landed in the hands of Sam Peckinpah, a director who had endured several years of being on a Hollywood blacklist because he couldn’t get along with producers, to a full-fledged production on location in northern Mexico with the enthusiastic backing of the head of Warner Brothers. The star of the book, of course, is Peckinpah, a director with demons, not to mention a drinking problem. Already middle-aged, Peckinpah knew this film was his last chance to be someone of consequence in Hollywood. Like many great directors, Peckinpah led his crew and actors like a general leading an army into battle. He could be tough to get along with, but he knew how to get the best out of everyone, and possessed a clear vision of what he wanted up on the screen; if he didn’t know how to achieve it, he would figure out a way. But Stratton makes it more than just the story of the colorful director. The contributions of Roy Sickner and Walon Green to the original script are documented, especially how Green worked the Mexican Revolution of 1910 into the story. Cliff Coleman, Chalo Gonzales, Gordon Dawson, Phil Feldman, and Kenneth Heyman, not well known names, but they each played pivotal roles in the making of the film, and this book gives them their due. Stratton offers up thumbnail sketches of actors William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Robert Ryan, and Edmond O’Brien, who, like the characters they played, were considered past their prime, but would give, under Peckinpah’s direction, the best performances of their careers. We get insights into Warren Oates and Ben Johnson, both of whom are revered today by western fans, not to mention Strother Martin and L.Q. Jones. They would become known as the “Peckinpah stock company.” Stratton also gives space to the members of the Mexican film-making industry who played a vital part in the production, not the least of them being legendary director Emilio Fernandez, the fearsome “El Indio” himself. And I do commend Stratton for spotlighting the various Mexican actresses who played small (this really wasn’t a woman’s picture), but still necessary roles in the story. More than anything, I enjoyed reading about the creative process, and how it worked during the production, which seems to have included the improvising of key lines of dialogue on the set. The “Battle of the Bloody Porch,” along with the heist of the guns from the train, and blowing of the bridge across the Rio Grande, are among the most memorable scenes in movie history, and how they came about is the story of creative people and seasoned professionals meshing their talents in a way that is almost pure magic. So too are the ways Peckinpah worked various themes into the film, not the least of which is man’s seemingly bottomless capacity for violence and cruelty, along with the dehumanization brought on by modern technology, and the clinging to of a sense of honor, even among ruthless killers.

At just over 300 pages, Stratton’s book is concise; he packs a lot into each page. The chapters are short, most of them vignettes centering on some particular aspect of, or player in, the production. I especially liked the story of how a Mexican-American family from the Mid-West, who were stranded in Mexico after running out of money while visiting relatives, were given jobs by Peckinpah on the movie set to earn enough to get back home. One criticism I can make is that this book could have used a stronger narrative, and woven its story in a more seamless style. The book is both history and commentary, which might confuse some readers when it switches from one to the other. Some of the facts asserted are clearly nothing more than gossip, and at times Stratton does leave himself open to being accusations of being a fan boy. And in the end, I think he does justice to a movie that, in the years since its release, has become beloved by cinephiles born long after 1969. Its impact on other film-makers has been considerable. In many ways Peckinpah’s THE WILD BUNCH is to American film what Kurosawa’s THE SEVEN SAMURAI is to Japan. And after reading this book, I’ve come to the conclusion that the story of the making of THE WILD BUNCH would make a great script, and a film, in its own right, working perfectly as a companion to Tarantino’s ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD. ( )