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Appaloosa

Director: Ed Harris

Cast: Harris, Viggo Mortensen, Renée Zellweger, Jeremy Irons

Running Time: 1:54

Rating: R; violence, language, sexual situations, nudity

Where: In wide release; showtimes, Page 26-27

“Appaloosa” is a mighty good-looking Western, it surely is.

And it sure is dumb.

Ed Harris looks oh so fine in all-black Wild West finery, from broad-brimmed cowboy hat (perfect for those “howdy, ma’am, fingers-to-brim salutes), snazzy vest, frock coat and tall boots. And he’s got the midwinter glare of a hard case down cold. Ice cold.

One tough hombre is Mr. Ed (actually, his character is named Virgil Cole), one unforgiving law enforcer. Peeing in public in his dusty cow town amounts to an automatic death sentence for any hairy varmint who commits such an indiscretion.

Backing his play all the way is his longtime pal Everett Hitch. He’s played by Viggo Mortensen sporting Wild Bill Hickok-inspired facial foliage (droopy mustache and striking 19th-century goatee) and lugging a monster double-barreled shotgun called an eight-gauge everywhere he goes. Dude knows how to accessorize, he does.

Directed, co-produced and co-scripted by Harris (Robert Knott shares screenplay credit; a Robert B. Parker novel is the source material), “Appaloosa” gets off to a promising start with a coldblooded killing of a sheriff and his deputies, which prompts the freaked-out townsfolk to hire seasoned gunslingers Virgil and Everett to set things right. The two become a law unto themselves and immediately set about striking fear into the hearts of barroom urinators and other scroungy lowlifes who’ve been holding the town hostage with their uncouth ways. Between shootings and pistol-whippings, the two muse laconically about their long association and about their law-enforcement philosophy. Which kinda, sorta boils down to: Shoot anyone who looks cross-eyed at you until the survivors learn to behave themselves. Or as Virgil puts it a touch more genteely “I don’t kill people for a living. I enforce the law. Killing is sometimes a byproduct.”

So far, so good. Hard men in a hard land doing the hard work of keeping the peace (and populating Boot Hill while they’re at it).

Then she gets off the train. And ice-cold Virgil promptly melts into a puddle of steaming mush.

She is played by Renée Zellweger, squinting harder than usual. For some inexplicable reason Virgil is so smitten with her that the next thing you know he’s showing Everett fabric samples and asking him what would be better as curtain material for the house the lovebirds are fixing to live in together.

Awww, isn’t that just …

Beyond belief, is what it is. Zellweger’s character makes no sense, being a collection of flirty glances, simpery attitudes and weird possessiveness. And Virgil’s reaction to her could be likened to puppy love, except puppies behave with a little more restraint in the presence of an object of their affections.

Harris brought a sure-handed directorial touch to “Pollock” back in 2000, but that sure-handedness is not in evidence here. The pacing of “Appaloosa” is very slow, yet the romance moves at a clip faster than the speed of light.

To keep Everett company while all this is going on, the script introduces a sultry strumpet who seemingly appears out of nowhere. Suddenly these two are deeply involved. Their romance, if you want to call it that, happens so abruptly the audience is left scratching its collective head wondering where did that come from?

The villain is played by Jeremy Irons, who seems ill at ease and uncertain in his villainy. Irons is a great actor, but the script gives him almost nothing to work with. Looking dapper, he and the grizzled galoots who comprise his gang are so ill-matched he and they don’t even look like they belong in the same movie together.

There is gunplay, of course, but even that is unconvincing. After the initial shootout in the bar, subsequent gun battles are slackly staged. There is barely any lead-up to them, and when they’re over you’re left to wonder: “Is that all there is?”

It’s a question that could serve as the epitaph of “Appaloosa.”

Soren Andersen: 253-597-8660