John Chard
Quirks, Quandaries and Quicksand.
The Hallelujah Trail is directed by John Sturges and adapted to screenplay by John Gay from the novel written by Bill Gulick. It stars Burt Lancaster, Lee Remick, Jim Hutton, Pamela Tiffin, Brian Keith, John Anderson, Martin Landau and Donald Pleasence. Music is by Elmer Bernstein and cinematography by Robert Surtees.
Depending on who you talk to about The Hallelujah Trail, it will either be called an ass numbing bore or a misunderstood gem, such is the reputation of it, it kinda demands to be seen so as to evaluate why so divisive.
It flopped on release and was savaged by critics, while it was a tough production from the off, one that badly over ran and was expensive to film. Cast members not getting on, bad weather, bad location provisions for cast, and the awful death of stuntman Bill Williams during one particular scene. Add in that lead man Lancaster looks bored - working at a time that he called his slavery period - then it felt doomed at an early stage.
Its failure has been contributed to a number of things, such as timing (comedy Western, and an epic one at that, too early? too late?) but really it's takes too many bites of the pie, rendering the whole as something resembling a garbled mess. The thin plot is stretched unbearably to fifteen minutes shy of three hours, thrusting a number of character groups to trudge around with a screenplay that ironically - given the temperance/alcoholic basis of story - feels like it was written by an inebriate.
Yet I personally would be a born liar if I said there wasn't a lot to like in the mix. Filmed not just in Technicolor and Panavision, but Ultra Panavision 70 no less! Pic looks terrific, with Surtees bringing the Gallup locales to vivid life, and Bernstein provides another technical highlight with his rambunctious score, big bold brass and percussion thunders around the settings. Some of the comedy works, when the cast get chance to come alive, and even though some aspects no doubt give the PC brigade kittens, the likes of Martin Landau as an Indian called Chief Walks-Stooped-Over are a joy. While for the red blooded among us, the huge running time at least allows for plenty of the positively yummy Remick...
So it's a tough call, I think its harsh to call it a bore, yet it's awfully messy. So with that I sit on the fence, where just one of my butt cheeks gets numb... 5/10
