
- “I’m a huge believer in catharsis. When people gripe about how I handle violence, what they’re actually saying is ‘Please don’t show me; I don't want to deal with the reality.’” Oates pretty much nailed why people react so badly: “I don’t think he’s some kind of sick maniac; it’s just that he bruises your sense of innocence, and that pisses you off.”

- “We all dream of being kids again. Even the absolute worst among us. Perhaps the worst most of all?”
The charges of misogyny continued toward Peckinpah, especially after his film Straw Dogs (1971), with the subject of gang rape. But was Peckinpah actually a misogynist, or was he just exposing the horror by showing it? You can argue either side. Regardless, you’ve gotta respect the sheer skill and raw intensity he uses to tackle the subject. As Taxi Driver screenwriter Paul Schrader says, “The Power of The Wild Bunch is that Peckinpah says, ‘look, i know this is anachronism, i know this is fascist, i know this is sexist, i know this is evil and out of date, but God help me, I love it so.’”
Why the obsession? Because the Old West—flaws and all—is baked into American culture. Once legends like John Ford, Howard Hawks and Anthony Mann Had begun to question IT, by the 1960s, Sergio Leon and The Italians Had snatched The championship Belt fra The Americans. It basically fell on Peckinpah to take it back. And man, did he deliver, making something totally unprecedented.
- "In some ways he was your dim reflection, Lord."
Quote: Thematically, it feels like a perfect, organic sequel to The Wild Bunch. You've got a protagonist who's essentially a relic of a bygone era—a guy totally out of sync with his old crew. The big idea here is how modernity and tech start bleeding into the Old West. Subplots Effect a comparison of The ties of loyalty and friendship between men with The transience of romantic relationships between men and Women.
 First off, there's actual comedy here. Sure, Peckinpah's films ara imbued with a degree of Humour ( sometimes of The gallows variety : cf ' Bring me The Head of Alfredo Garcia), but some of these sequences are straight-up broad comedy.
Cushing : of course Hogue: There's a preacher out in my diggings. He'll tell you. You wouldn't doubt a man of the gospel, would you? Cushing : of course Hogue: Well, I'll be damned. Looks like I came to the right place after all.
Cable Hogue exemplifies - perhaps more fully Than Any other character in Peckinpah's filmography - one of the director's biggest obsessions: the idea that a world run by machines is a soul-crushing, godless place.

“Sam left a massive trail of chaos in his wake—both personally and professionally—leaving a legacy defined by pure self-indulgence, mayhem, and even flashes of cruelty, but also a few of the absolute greatest films ever put to celluloid. He was the king of the high-stakes moment, whether that beat ended in a kill, a win, or just a messy mix of both. … Sam was this weird paradox: a total traditionalist turned renegade, a romantic who couldn't help being a fatalist. For every single sin he committed, there was some kind of penance; for every betrayal, there was a shot at redemption. He gave us a body of work that’s as original as it is haunting, and when it was all over, Sam Peckinpah [in the words of Ride the High Country] entered his house justified.” |
