“Hogue lived and died here in the desert, and I’m sure Hell will never be too hot for him”

There are many filmmakers that we associate with New Hollywood, the artist who defined the movement away from very traditional forms of storytelling, to more subversive, provocative and daring, which set the standard for several generations of cinema. One of the most distinct names is that of Sam Peckinpah, whose work is absolutely astonishing and of historical importance, having established a kind of gritty but powerful filmmaking, the likes of which have not truly been seen since. He was a versatile filmmaker, but he is most associated with westerns, with many considering his masterpieces to be The Wild Bunch and Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, two very distinct works that may tell radically different stories in terms of setting, but have similar themes and are aligned with the director’s very clear style, being just as well-executed as anything else he made. However, if we look at the years between these two films, we can find another western, albeit one that is as different from them as one can get, while still remaining one of Peckinpah’s greatest achievements. The Ballad of Cable Hogue is one of the greatest westerns of its era, a radical and daring journey into the past, facilitated by one of the great filmmakers of his time, someone whose incredible vision and strong directorial prowess made him an exceptional storyteller, possessing the kind of authorial voice that seemed to restrict him to one kind of genre more than others, but which influenced the industry in ways that make every one of his films, including this one, so much more complex and interesting when we look at them both in isolation and in dialogue with one another.

The main cultural cache carried by The Ballad of Cable Hogue is that it is often compared to The Wild Bunch, neither favourably nor negatively, but rather objectively – considering the latter is considered one of the most violent and disturbing westerns ever made, Peckinpah’s decision to venture into more subtle, gentle territory was bound to be notable. However, there is so much more to this film than being the charming, upbeat relative of a much more gruesome work, and there is even an argument to be made that it is far superior, since it allows the director the space to actually develop his characters, restricting the use of violence to only a few brief moments. This forces the director to find new ways to tell the story, and while it would be foolish to associate him with filmmakers who just use violence for the sake of shocking the audience, he was someone who had it become one of his most defining qualities. The Ballad of Cable Hogue is an extraordinarily thoughtful, well-constructed film that feels like it is search for meaning in a genre that often relies too heavily on spectacle than it does nuance – and from beginning to end, the film proves that it has the emotional anchorage to feasibly conduct such discussions, without becoming too overwrought about any of them, keeping a very jovial and upbeat tone, rather than the bleak, almost nihilistic terror that we normally find when looking at his films. This is a very easygoing film, but it does not mean that Peckinpah was in any way abandoning his incredible directorial prowess – instead, he was just filtering these ideas into a more tranquil and endearing form, which has just as much impact as those with wall-to-wall violence, just targeting a different set of sensations within the viewer.

The Ballad of Cable Hogue is a bold and ambitious comedy that feels like it has just as much to say about these characters in this specific story as it does about the period as a whole. One of the features of westerns produced under the New Hollywood movement was that they were very rarely traditional – if anything, they were designed to stand in firm opposition to the works of people like John Ford and Anthony Mann, directors who made excellent westerns, but ones that tended to follow a very particular structure. Peckinpah was openly challenging these ideas, and while it is far easier to see it in his more violent westerns, this one offers him the opportunity to explore similar ideas, just from a radically different perspective. There was an effort to move away from formulaic westerns in which the hero would face adversity and ultimately return home victorious, to a more cynical kind – and while The Ballad of Cable Hogue is about as optimistic as a western can get, there is a degree of sardonic humour and irony that persists throughout the film, which is most notable in the climactic moments, when the valiant titular character finally achieves what he desired, having become a prosperous and successful man that had conquered to Old West, only to find himself struck down by a car, a contraption that both intrigued and confused him. This is one of the most obvious examples of the film’s intention to explore the ambigious space between the end of the Old West and the beginning of the modern era, which is a common concept in western films produced during this period. The end of tradition as a result of the encroaching dangers of modernity is a frequent topic of conversation, and Peckinpah infuses the film with so many interesting comments on the subject, oscillating between hilariously irreverent and deeply melancholic, which proves how this is one of the foremost examples of how New Hollywood changed the way these stories are told, proving that they do not need to adhere to the same ideas, and can instead be just as resonant as films set in the contemporary era, granted the ideas are strong and the execution matches and honours the audacity.

A discussion on The Ballad of Cable Hogue would obviously not be complete without mentioning the titular character himself, who is one of cinema’s great heroes, albeit one that is far more complex than your traditional valiant protagonist. Good roles require great actors, and you simply can’t find many more suited to the task than Jason Robards, one of the true masters of his craft. Whether soaring to the heavens in his iconic interpretations of classic texts on stage, or commanding the screen in any kind of role, he was an extraordinary actor who rarely turned in a bad performance. Cable Hogue is not a complex character in the traditional sense, since he is merely an ordinary man whose most notable quality is his sincerity and undying conviction to achieving some degree of success, and therefore any gifted actor could play the role. Yet, Robards not only elevates the character, but the entire film, turning in one of the most charismatic performances of the decade. His presence on screen is unprecedented, and his ability to be subtle while still holding our attention through the sheer might of his expressivity and deeply soulful approach to developing his characters makes this such a wonderfully poignant and interesting work of journeyman acting. Robards thrived on playing the everyman archetype in many of his greatest works, and while Cable Hogue is ambigious enough of a character to allow any actor to assert his own personality onto him, Robards somehow takes it even further, turning him into an unforgettable hero with as much depth as he has courage, which is uncommon, even for the most endearing western protagonist. It’s tricky to place The Ballad of Cable Hogue within Robards’ career, since he’s far too talented an actor to simply have this very straightforward performance considered his best – but yet, he’s still so captivating and charismatic, adding so much humour and pathos to a film that knew exactly how to utilize every one of his bespoke qualities.

Ultimately, every theme embedded in The Ballad of Cable Hogue can be tied together under the general concept of the rags-to-riches story, which has existed longer than most generic story structures. The idea of someone going from hardship to prosperity simply through being persistent and tenacious is a tale as old as time, and one that seems very unlikely to leave the public consciousness anytime soon. This film is fascinating in how it looks at the titular character’s journey, showing how he endured a near-death experience, only to gradually find himself on the road to success through simply just making use of his immense resourcefulness and desire to get out of whatever poverty he was enduring – but it goes about exploring this in a way that is much more interesting than the conventional aspects of the story would have you believe. The main character goes from being a luckless vagabond to the epitome of the supposed American Dream, which is perhaps the most striking propellant of the film as a whole. This is one of the most moving portraits of the positive side of capitalism ever put on screen, especially since Peckinpah doesn’t hammer the idea to the point of exhaustion, instead restricting it to a few genuinely charming moments, such as Cable receiving a gift of an American flag to hoist over the two-acre utopia he has created for himself, or the fact that he was so proud to meet his demise as a result of technological progress, which he saw as not only important, but entirely essential. The film evokes some very interesting conversations, and the director makes sure that they’re delivered with nuance and wit, rather than being overwrought, which makes a considerable different when looking at a story as broad and intricately woven in its socio-economic commentary as this one.

The Ballad of Cable Hogue is a gem – we often associate Peckinpah with no-holds-barred, ultra-violent cinema that finds great actors stepping into much darker roles, telling stories that exist on the fringes of decency. As a result, those who are unprepared for the film may expect it to be something else entirely, patiently waiting for the descent into anarchy that is woven into the majority of the director’s work. It’s a refreshing departure, especially considering how he may have dialled down the violence, but keeps the same simmering passion for the process we often find in his work, just replacing the grisly moments with those that are more sedate and peaceful. This allows the time and space to consider the myth of the American West, both in the people that existed under it (the film has some fascinating commentary on gender politics, being ahead of its time in how it represents some of these characters’ relationships), and how modernity gradually caused it to erode in the early years of the 20th century. It’s beautifully made, hilariously funny and always consistently searching for nuance in an otherwise very simple story – it carries meaning and depth, and adds a lot of detail when it is necessary, but is also cognisant of the fact that sometimes the most simple ideas are the most effective. The Ballad of Cable Hogue is a wonderful film, and proof that some of the greatest works are those that don’t demand too much from the viewer outside of just our time, with the film ultimately being extremely rewarding to those who have the patience to sit with it and allow its ideas to come about naturally.