Referring to Doc, one of the many films that focused on the eponymous legend of the Wild West, John “Doc” Holliday, as a western is both technically accurate and theoretically false, since despite its setting, there is very little that can be compared to traditional westerns, even those that fall under the revisionist category. A disquieting, character-driven drama disguised as a riveting adventure film, if anyone was going to be able to effortlessly pull this off without it coming across as some kind of stunt, it would be the chameleonic Frank Perry, a director who proved himself to be capable to adapting to absolutely any kind of film, granted he was working from a strong script and with a good set of actors that could help bring it to life. In this case, he was collaborating with writer and journalist Pete Hamill, who wrote the screenplay based on a few weeks in the life of the main character, focusing less on his legendary activities, but more on the relationships he formed with a variety of people, including an enigmatic young prostitute he hopes to liberate from her profession, and the equally-iconic Wyatt Earp, the renegade US Marshall who made sure to employ any and all methods to maintain order, even if it meant getting violent on some occasions. Perry weaves together a compelling story of the titular character and his interactions with a few other notable historical figures from this era, leading to the Gunfight at the OK Corral, one of the defining moments in the history of the Wild West – and through beautifully poetic storytelling devices, he offers us an intimate look into the life of Doc Holliday and how he came to be considered one of the most impactful figures in American history.

Films about historical figures who have developed reputations that can best be described as bordering on folkloric are difficult to successfully execute, since there is always going to be some degree of sensationalism – no one wants to see a retelling of someone’s life that leaves out the details we have come to associate with these figures, regardless of how inaccurate they may be. Time tends to only heighten one’s reputation, whether positively and negatively, but it only takes one small bit of exaggeration for the general perspective to become very different. Holliday is certainly someone who has experienced a similar phenomenon – perhaps not quite the most defining figure in the Old West era, and someone who is more known to history buffs and devotees to western literature, he is still somewhat prominent, and there is some degree of public perception that needs to be honoured to an extent. However, where Doc deviates from many similarly-themed films is that it actually tries to anchor Holliday in reality, portraying him as an ordinary man with the same struggles as everyone, rather than making him some larger-than-life, infallible figure that exists solely to wreak vengeance on those who cross his path and don’t show the necessary respect to the American way of life. He’s ruthless and heroic, but not without his own shortcomings, which is where Hamill and Perry’s portrayal of his life and times becomes so compelling, since there is always something meaningful lurking beneath each bold stroke of dashing heroism, which ultimately makes Doc such an enticing and refreshing look into the life of one of America’s most fearless sharp-shooters.

Occupying the central role is Stacey Keach, one of the most defining actors of the 1970s. Very performers were able to benefit as much from the changing direction of New Hollywood, and their repurposed definition of what a leading man could be – lumbering, vaguely eccentric and possessing a very unique physicality, Keach is not what we’d consider to be a conventional star, at least in the most basic definition based on years of conditioning. However, his working-class sensibilities, and ability to adapt to essentially any role, makes him the perfect person to occupy the titular part in Doc, which made exceptional use of his unique persona. He’s heroic, but not blindly so – we have to grow accustomed to this version of Doc Holliday, since this interpretation isn’t one that immediately strikes us as someone who we should immediately connect with. However, as we venture further into the film, this rugged aloofness begins to disappear, and we’re presented with the vulnerable, complex protagonist we may not have expected. Keach is complemented perfectly by the beguiling Faye Dunaway, giving a performance that both plays into her deceptive charms, and her ability to play a truly unhinged character that could easily take on any adversary who gets in her way. This is yet another example of how Dunaway could play far more than just beautiful objects of desire – she had incredible depth, and could reach heights in her portrayal of even the most thinly-written characters that many of her contemporaries would struggle to even come close to, which only proves her gifts. The only person miscast in the film is Harris Yulin as Wyatt Earp – but even his performance, while not nearly as well-developed as his two co-stars, is still wonderfully compelling and interesting, with the only shortcoming arriving in how he doesn’t quite embody the spirit of the material, feeling somewhat out of place throughout the film.

The method in which Perry and Hamill bring these characters to life is incredible – they’re complex, and more than just thinly-written archetypes. It comes down to how refreshingly unique this screenplay was, which drew less on the tropes of the western genre, and instead went in search of some deeper meaning. This extends to the visual scope as well, since Doc is a very well-made film, albeit one that doesn’t appear to have any real interest in adhering to the standards of the genre. Perry wasn’t one to play by the rules – he may have been someone who often made himself available as a “director-for-hire”, helming studio films that he didn’t have much sway over, usually since they were dictated by the executives, who swore more on a screenplay than they did on the vision of the director. Yet, even in something like Doc, which is somewhere between Perry’s studio work and forays into independent cinema, his authorial voice stands out, and his particular touch is present in every frame. There is a poeticism to this film that can’t be described in simple terms – Perry is constantly elevating each moment, making even the most inconsequential interactions seem important. There are some stunning action sequences, but what draws us in is the brooding, quiet (and perhaps even vaguely sinister) portrayal of the Old West, which is not nearly as endearing as many western films made it out to be. It’s a dark, terrifying place filled with suffering – but even between those moments, there are brief spurts of joy, which Perry makes sure to include, bringing out an evocative and meaningful portrayal of a particular moment in history that has rarely been this captivating.

Perry was a director whose style may not be well-defined, but rather evident in how his films constantly push to develop his characters beyond what is on the page. This allowed him to extract some of the finest performances ever committed to film, from both newcomers (such as Carrie Snodgress in Diary of a Mad Housewife) or bona fide Hollywood legends (like Burt Lancaster in The Swimmer). He engages with the material well, and draws out so much nuance from even the most simplistic of scenarios, which only increases the experience of seeing him tell a story that has been done many times before, but rarely as beautifully as this. We’re hypnotized by this film, which is quite peculiar, since it is dark, gritty and brooding, and is often quite harsh in its assessments of the human condition – but like its main character, beneath the rough exterior sits a very tender, humane heart, which is what Perry seems to be most focused on extracting, drawing attention to how, despite the violent nature of the Old West, there were still genuinely good people hoping to lead normal lives scattered throughout it. One of the more underrated westerns of its era, probably since it doesn’t quite fit into any real classification within the genre (not even quite meeting the criteria to be a revisionist western), Doc is in dire need of another reanalysis, for its stunning performances, assured direction and incredibly unique approach to committing the life of a truly iconic American figure to film in a way that feels both endearing and thoroughly authentic.