The Shootist Review

Pursuit of the last bow is an achievement few can hold their hands up to with success. Sylvester Stallone, for all the questionable qualities of Rambo: Last Blood, provided a personal farewell to a character he had portrayed for decades. He doubled that up with Creed II and said his goodbyes. John Wayne, the man of the western and the powerhouse of post-True Grit acclaim, bids a final and bittersweet sunset on the genre that served him well for decades. The Shootist has the potential to dribble away into a reflection on Wayne in documentary-like focus, utilising black and white snapshots of his past and pieces to camera for so many years. But that lends itself nicely to the whole point of this Don Siegel-directed piece. 

Capturing the tone Charley Varrick and Dirty Harry had just a few years before this Wayne-led western throwback, Siegel is instrumental in the success of this one. Wayne may be the firm and braggadocios leading man, but it is Siegel holding it all together. He pulls the strings that make this late-stage western tick, a final piece from Wayne, who dedicated much of his career to the genre. The Shootist depends not just on a love for the classic westerns and the considerable similarities of John Wayne and Johnny Cash in vocal presence, but also a love for the man at the heart of it. A cowboy on borrowed time and a legend of the screen hoping to say goodbye. It does not get much more emotionally charmed than that. 1901 is when The Shootist finds itself. Civilisation comes to the wild west. 

Siegel is so good behind the camera that even Ron Howard comes across as enjoyable. Charmed performances from James Stewart, who also enters those twilight final features, along with Richard Boone. All face down the barrel of a gun and the mortality that comes from inside the chamber is the least of their troubles. Stripped of that fear and replaced by an agony that rests on his face, The Shootist is a coming-of-twilight-age feature, one that deals with the generational gap, the at-the-time mouthy new youth against the old and tired hands. Scatman Crothers makes for a nice supporting role too, his presence alongside Perlman in those few scenes of rebellion is just as important as the core of Wayne’s final days in the saddle. Past expenses and the immorality of lawbreaking give that underscore of penance and legacy, the old hand of evil still has time for reflection. The Shootist hopes so. 

Part of The Shootist feels as though it is made to placate the tough imagery Wayne holds. But those moments of grieving for the self, the wheezing lack of power in the once fine and dangerous hands, are a weary and touching sight to see. It shows Wayne as an emotionally rounded character, a legacy-defining piece that stands as tall as his strongest works. Courage is to bow out with choice. Painful ends are decried by Dr. Hostetler (Stewart) who insists that J.B. Books (Wayne) go out as the revered figure he is. The Shootist offers that same dignity to Wayne, the late hero of the western shown to be not an immortal facet, but just as worn and temporal as the criminals and creatures he blew away.