Kevin Costner? Kevin “Dances With Wolves” Costner, who defended the Lakota against the genocidal white patriarchy? Kevin “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” Costner, who was, you know, the prince of thieves, and defied the, you know, genocidal white patriarchy? That Kevin Costner is a fascist?
Damn straight, dude. Big Daddy Kev has had with these kids, who are, it seems, nothing but a bunch of damn murderer-worshippin’ hippies, brainwashed by the damn media into turning their backs on everything that’s decent, wholesome, and capitalist in American life. It’s time to whup some sense into their damn heads, or maybe just damn kill ‘em, because, come to think of it, that would solve the problem pretty damn quick.
That seems to be the message of Kevin’s latest, Highwaymen, done for the small screen and available on Netflix. Highwaymen didn’t seem to get much press when it premiered a couple of weeks ago, either pro or con, but, as a retelling—and, basically, a point-by-point rebuttal—of Warren Beatty’s neo nouvelle vague masterpiece, Bonnie & Clyde, which hit the American movie-going public like a bomb back in 1967, made Pauline Kael famous, and (so I said in my review) allowed American movies to go up once and for all, it certainly makes a statement, which I am going to disagree with, at length.
Maybe Kevin Costner, who was all of twelve when B&C came out, couldn’t understand why Warren “Pretty Boy” Beatty was getting all his press, or maybe Kevin is just souring with age, or maybe Trumpism is catching—which God forbid—but, whatever the reason, it’s clear that Kevin decided that, 50 years after the fact, it was time to take 82-year-old Pretty Boy down a peg. Surely few films—particularly one of such expense and quality—have been so closely crafted to “refute” an earlier film. Highwaymen scarcely makes “sense” if not viewed with constant awareness of Bonnie & Clyde.1
The film is visually very well made, like Bonnie & Clyde working very hard to convey the harshness of Depression-Era Texas. The film opens by showing us an old timey car pulling up in a field and a dainty gal, obviously Bonnie because she’s packing a tommy gun,2 firing it into the air as a signal for jail break (actually a “prison fam break”) that she and Clyde are apparently coordinating. She’s deliberately shown to us in a long shot, letting us know that (probably) we won’t be getting a real look at either Bonnie or Clyde until the end, rather like Mrs. Bates in Psycho.
Afterwards, we cut to the offices of the Texas governor—canny, soulless “Ma” Ferguson (Kathy Bates). Ma’s a fraud, like all politicians, all image and no substance. She’s taking heat from the press for all this Bonnie & Clyde stuff, and it’s time to find someone to blame for her own incompetence, time to pull “legendary” Texas Ranger Frank Hamer out of retirement. Ma shut down the Rangers for some unspecified reason, but, since she’s a chick, you can bet it was some kind of chickenshit chick shit, like some little Missy got her little nose all out of joint because some dude might have given her ass a little pat. If it’s not for sale don’t advertise, sweetheart! Yeah, the gals always be whinin’, but when there’s a real job to be done, all of a sudden they’ve got to find a real man to do it.
And Frank, well, he’s a real man, living large and in charge, got a big house and fancy young society wife to run it for him. He sure don’t need no job, and no need to do Ma no favors, but Bonnie and Clyde, they’ve been killing peace officers. It’s a job that’s got to be done, and a real man don’t quit till the job’s done.
Frank sets off in the fancy new Lincoln he just gave his wife, a car whose elegant lines will be featured over and over again in the film, with near fetish-like devotion, seemingly a compulsive echo of all the gleaming thirties roadsters that Bonnie and Clyde pilfer in Beatty’s film, though none of them, I think, were luxury models like Frank’s Lincoln.3
Once Frank’s got the car, he needs a companion, and he finds one in fellow dinosaur Maney Gault (Woody Harrelson). Maney don’t look like much, and he has to pee a lot (which, when you come to think about it, is pretty damn funny), but Frank, he’s looking for guts, not glamor, and Maney’s got the real stuff in his belly.
And so off they go, taking shit from all kinds of snot-nosed fancy-pants kids in the state police and even the FBI. They got airplanes and shit, they can even listen to your telephone conversations and you can’t do anything about it! How scary is that!4
Frank and Maney, they don’t have nothin’, nothin’ but smarts, smarts and a whole shitload of automatic weapons that Frank buys, in a wet-dream gun lovers’ sequence—surely ten thousand dollars of cargo or more, practically none of which is actually used in the film.5 I would be very unsurprised to learn that Costner is a gun lover and has all of these items in his collection, weapons that he probably enjoys hefting and then throwing at his guests. What’s the matter, sissy boy? Can’t handle a piece?
For most of the rest of the film, Frank and Maney just drive around in their shiny new Lincoln, Frank raining contempt on all the punk kids in the FBI, the damn newspapers, and damn general public for making heroes out of a pair of murderous brats, while Maney has to take a leak every ten minutes. (Okay, that part’s funny.) At one point, Maney almost gets a shot at Clyde, but then he’s mobbed all these damn broads, like he’s a celebrity or something, before Maney can pull the trigger.
The film goes to absurd lengths to make Bonnie, who was not a very nice person, not merely a hardened criminal but, well, a sadistic, castrating bitch. At one point, Hamer “deduces”, from footprints at a crime scene, that Bonnie wounded a policeman, then rolled him over with her foot in order to force him to watch before she blew his brains out. But we are both told and shown that Bonnie is tiny (90 pounds) and walks with a limp.6 I’ll bet Kevin Costner couldn’t roll a 90-pound woman over with his foot, much less a 200-pound man. Women issues much, Kevin?
Finally, Frank gets a solid lead, beating the crap out of some punk to find out what Bonnie and Clyde are up to, because beating the crap out of people is pretty much the best solution to any law enforcement problem. He learns that the Barrow gang is headed to Louisiana to hole up with the father of one of the gang. Frank makes a deal with the father, as happened in real life and the Beatty film, arranging for an ambush. None of this fair play bullshit for him! He also insists that a young deputy come along with them to identify Clyde, setting up a ludicrous (and fraudulent) finale to teach the kid and the audience about “real life”—from real life actor Kevin Costner.
Naturally, the kid, being a kid, is a little squeamish about the prospect of seeing two people shot to pieces from ambush, so Maney has to explain the facts of life to the kid. (Many rather than Frank, because Frank is more or less a god, and gods don’t explain themselves. If they did, they’d lose caste.)
Maney tells the kid a story about when he was a young Texas Ranger. The Rangers have located a huge gang of Mexican desperados, but when they try to arrest them, announcing “Manos arribos” (or something like that, meaning “Hands up!”), well, instead of putting up their hands, the Mexicans start shooting. Day after day, it goes on like this, the Rangers losing a man or two every day until Frank shows up. No more “manos arribos”, motherfucker! We shoot first, and we shoot to kill! And that’s how it goes down, and Maney even blows away this innocent, unarmed, fifteen-year-old kid, who just wanted to escape, putting six slugs in the little fucker. Cause that’s what a man does! Adios, muchacho!
Uh, really? If a gang shoots a cop, the cops will come back time and time again, trying to arrest the gang peacefully? Really? They needed Frank Hamer to tell them they were doing it wrong? And, why, exactly, did Maney have to put six slugs in a non-combatant? Is this like one of those “Kill ‘em all, Let God sort ‘em out” tee-shirts you get at a gun show? In fact, of course, they didn’t need to have the kid come along in the first place. Maney knows what Clyde looks like, and was going to drop him earlier, if only he could have gotten a clean shot. The kid’s just a lazy plot device.
But the kicker comes when Frank, Maney, the kid, a couple of local police finally ambush Bonnie and Clyde, because it isn’t an ambush. Frank steps out in front of the car and gives the two a chance to surrender, just what Maney just told us ls what pussies do, and is why pussies never get the job done. Yeah, Kevin Costner wants to give us this hard-ass “moral”, that civilization depends on the occasional cold-blooded murder. But, at the same time, he wants the audience to like him. What a coward.
1. When I saw the 1998 Gus Van Sant shot for shot remake of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960), I walked out of theater thinking “Now he should remake it again, except this time showing us everything that Hitchcock didn’t show us!” Dunno if it would work, but maybe.
2. Tommy guns, with their drum magazines, though (I’ve read, though Wikipedia says different) they often did not work very well and were not often used, were a legendary symbol of gang violence. When I was a small boy, the conclusion of the visitor’s tour of the FBI was a demonstration of a tommy gun in a special shooting range in the basement, though I don’t know if FBI agents ever used one in a fire fight. In those days the FBI had a fairly low-key building across the street from the Department of the Interior, which a had very low-budget aquarium open to the public. You could see a guy shoot up a target with a tommy gun and then walk across the street and look at the two-headed turtle (for real).
3. In my original review of B&C, I remarked that all of the cars Bonnie and Clyde steal are in sparkling condition, with gleaming chrome and, often, two-tone paint jobs—just what you wouldn’t find in East Texas during the Great Depression. Beatty starred in Splendor in the Grass (1961), featuring all the polished roadsters that director Elia Kazan didn’t get to drive while working his way through Williams College back in the day. Many film directors, ranging from Jean-Luc Godard to Steven Spielberg, compulsively feature in their films the cars they didn’t get to drive when they were young.
4. In the thirties, every phone call was individually placed by an operator, who could listen in if she wanted to (all telephone operators were women), though of course they weren’t supposed to. Furthermore, in rural areas, if there were phones at all, houses were connected on “party lines”. Anyone on your line could listen to your call.
5. If you’re wondering, Bonnie and Clyde were killed before the National Firearms Act of 1934 was signed into law, a law that, in any event, simply put a tax on automatic weapons, so that only respectable people could buy them.
6. The real Bonnie Parker, by the time of the events in the film, could not walk unassisted, after suffering third-degree burns on her leg during an automobile accident.
