Albatross of Elvis By Christina Harlin, your Fearless Young Orphan Charro! (1969) Directed by Charles Marquis Warren Charro! is a better film than you’d expect, because you see that it stars Elvis Presley as a gunslinger trying to go straight, and you think, “Oh holy hell, that’s gotta be terrible or hilarious,” because most Elvis Presley movies were terrible and hilarious, which doesn’t mean that they weren’t often fun. So then you might watch Charro! expecting more of the same, and it turns out to be an earnest tale of revenge and redemption in the old southwest. Here’s Elvis playing the role of Jess Wade, a regretful man uncertain of how to make things right without resorting to his old criminal ways. He never picks up a guitar or breaks into song (Elvis only sings the movie’s theme which appears over the opening credits). And in fact, Elvis disappears from the film for long segments as the story focuses on other characters. “Well I’ll be damned,” you say, “This is a real western, and it’s not half-bad.” But then, here’s the problem. Charro! is also a rather worse film than you’d expect, for basically the same reasons. You were like me, and visited the world of Charro! because it’s an Elvis movie, and you were expecting that he’d pick up a guitar and break into song, and that things would be terrible and hilarious. Then you wind up with this serious western tale of revenge and redemption which would have been a much finer film if they had gotten someone besides Elvis Presley to play the role of Jess Wade, because Elvis Presley couldn’t act. Or – wait, let me be more specific. Elvis Presley could act just well enough to make you realize that the role could have been amazing in the hands of a really good actor. Wikipedia says that the role was originally offered to Clint Eastwood, and also that the film was meant to be far more violent and racy – the implication being that when Elvis was signed on, the film was considerably cleaned up in order to appeal more to Elvis’s audience, who were coming to the theater to see an Elvis Presley movie and were disappointed. If you should watch Charro!, after what I’ve told you, think about that. There are elements here that hint at a real gritty tale along the lines of High Plains Drifter except that the movie doesn’t reach for that kind of grit and hatred, and when grit and hatred are called for, it slips away, leaving Elvis to glower elsewhere so it can focus on the more interesting gang of villains. Have I put the cart before the horse? Here I go on and on, and I haven’t even told you what the movie is really about. I feel like the beard was doing all the Let’s deal with this post-haste, shall we? heavy lifting. Jess Wade used to be part of a gang of criminals (let’s assume they were ruthless and murderous; the movie doesn’t get into that kind of gory detail) led by Vince Hackett. They’re all leftovers from the Civil War, who decided that the life of wartime violence suited them well enough to continue it to their own profit. Before you spend the entire movie trying to figure out where you’ve seen Vince Hackett before, I’ll fill you in. He’s played by Victor French, and although Mr. French appeared in a long list of movies and TV, people my age are going to remember him as the bearish sweetie-pie Mr. Edwards from Little House on the Prairie. He was always singing “Old Dan Tucker,” you remember? He was also on Highway to Heaven, though I never watched that show. He and Michael Landon were close friends. You younger folk probably won’t know what I’m talking about; kids these days! Do you even know who Elvis was? My honeypunkin will have to give you a talking-to. The mastermind of cannon-related crimes. Vince Hackett is quite an interesting villain, the sort of man who you’d think could do better by going into business for himself because he has that sort of ruthless, opportunistic flair that could make him a millionaire completely legally, and he is only spinning its wheels in a life of crime. Vince has a younger brother Billy Roy who is quite clearly crazy but Vince is very protective of him, as older brothers might understandably be. Jess Wade was a member of their gang, and Vince’s best friend, until a woman came into the mix. Vince Hackett had a gal Tracy Winters, the beautiful owner of a brothel. She found herself unable to resist the powers of Elvis, so she and Jess broke away from Vince. The movie is a little unclear about what arrangement they made, but it seems that Tracy went back to brothel-running and Jess went on a quest to become an honest man so he could come back and claim her all noble-like. They have all been separated for over a year when our film begins. Vince Hackett is like the worst ex-girlfriend ever; he’s been stalking Jess and plotting revenge ever since Jess broke up with him. He lures Jess into an ambush with a rumor that Tracy was looking for him, kidnaps Jess into the desert and then sets Jess up as the leading mastermind on a rather strange crime. Vince and his gang have stolen a famous cannon from a Mexican town. It’s a mighty pretty cannon, too, all plated in gold and silver, “My hormones don’t care about the law.” because it’s a symbolic icon of some battle somewhere and it’s worth a lot to the town they stole it from (it also still works, that’s an important side-note). They’re basically holding the cannon hostage for $100,000. Considering how the damn thing is covered in gold and silver, seems to me it would be a lot easier and safer to just melt it down and sell the metal, but that’s not Vince’s style and it certainly doesn’t fit in with his scheme of revenge. Vince has his minions torture and scar Jess to match the description of the one man anyone saw stealing the cannon, and he intends for the Federales to arrest and hang Jess for the crime. Now Jess, who was trying to go straight, damn it, is on all these wanted posters with a nasty scar on his neck to boot. He has trouble convincing others that he didn’t do it. Seems that a lifetime of crime outweighs the one year he was trying to do right. Ultimately he only has two friends left: first, Tracy, who doesn’t really believe him but can’t resist that sexy Elvis Elvisness, and a town sheriff who is his friend from way back, somehow or another. I’m not perfectly clear on all that. So Jess has one idea on how to clear his name. He’s got to capture Vince Hackett and his gang and have them confess the crime, then Jess will return the cannon to its hometown, all noble-like. He gets his bargaining chip when he captures crazy Billy Roy and imprisons him in the town jail. Oh, by this time, Jess has been appointed sheriff of the town – it’s complicated, don’t ask, just trust me. So now we have a standoff. Vince Hackett and his gang are in the nearby mountains, pointing a cannon at the town. Jess Wade is in the town, holding Billy Roy in the jail. Angry, mistrustful townspeople are closing in, demanding that Jess free Billy Roy so this madman stops blasting their town apart with a goddamn cannon. And all of this would be good, bordering on great, I think, if the movie weren’t carrying the weight of Elvis Presley. Poor Elvis, who wanted so badly to be in a serious role in a serious film. Well, here he has it, and the truth is, he does just well enough that we can understand how good this story could have been without him. My dear friends, I think that is irony. Jess Wade is a character that needed nuances of conflict and frustration, a man who wants to leave violence behind but discovers that violence is easiest way to free himself. Elvis just wasn’t cutting it. He has precisely two facial expressions, and they’re both glowers (the lover’s glower and the pissed-off glower). His line delivery is strictly one-note, a sad thing to say about a professional singer. Meanwhile, Victor French easily makes his character the most interesting thing in the film: a man who can see reason but chooses to be evil anyway. His crew of minions, particularly the rather witty demolitions expert Gunner, actually make a better show of distinguishing their characters and motivations than poor Elvis ever does. My honeypunkin defended Elvis and said he was a “pretty good actor, after all.” I have to disagree, at least in this case, because while Elvis had personality out the wazoo and was a stage presence to be reckoned with, he was ill-suited to this kind of role. You can’t put a beard on Elvis and think it makes him an actor. There’s enough substance to Charro! for me to give it a western score of 8/10, Elvis notwithstanding.