Jeremiah Johnson

John Jeremiah Johnson was a real fella, nicknamed "Liver Eating Johnson." He lived as a mountain man in the 1800s and repeatedly fought against the native American Crow tribe across the West.  In retaliation for the murder of his wife, who was part of the Flathead tribe, he scalped and disemboweled some three hundred Crow.  Johnson's life was recounted in a few books which in turn inspired 1972's JEREMIAH JOHNSON.  Wild man and Native American expert John Milius was commissioned to pen the tale and eventually Robert Redford starred under Sydney Pollack's direction.   It's a crowd pleasing movie that isn't unwatchably brutal nor too lightweight.  

Johnson fled the populace to live among the Rocky Mountains, and quite ill-equipped to do so.  But determination, luck, and good timing keep him alive long enough to get to know his way around the high country.  His path crosses with an old grizzly bear hunter called "Bear Claw" (Will Geer) whose mentorship proves invaluable.  Later, Johnson will find himself quite unwillingly adopting a mute boy whose family was slaughtered by the Blackfoot Confederacy and marrying said Crow woman, so as to not insult the Flathead Chief.  Good Christian folk, they.

A family.  Perhaps the very sort of thing Jeremiah Johnson sought to escape back in town.  He'll even get all domestic and erect a log cabin in a favorable spot, where the water is good and it ain't too windy.  It isn't too hard to predict that this idyll in the wilderness will be disrupted, perhaps because once again no good goes unpunished, as Johnson escorts a U.S. Army Cavalry to rescue some settlers.  The decision to traverse a scared Crow burial ground on the way will prove fateful. 

The story in JEREMIAH JOHNSON is a literal crisscross of the comedic and tragic.  The tone shifts adroitly. Pollack does good work, even when the film often meanders. Cinematographer Duke Callaghan captures the astonishing beauty of Utah locations.  Absolutely gorgeous, especially the snowy scenes.  This is a meditative Western during which Redford spends much time alone and silent.  These are his best moments, particularly the silent part.  Here, as in several other films, his performance is variable.  He was quite gifted with expressions and body language (to say nothing of having a real presence about him), but his dialogue delivery was iffy, awkward.  

But those songs by John Rubinstein and Tim McIntire? Too cheesy for my taste, though I did find myself humming the title tune the next day.

R.I.P., Bob.