A Brand New Classic: BILLY (THE KID) by Peter Meech

Author Peter Meech didn't just write this book, he painstakingly crafted every sentence from first to last. There's a big difference. The average novel, if it tells a satisfying story, can get by with prose that's merely adequate. The truly great books are those that excel in both story and the way that story is told.

Billy (the Kid) is that rare animal that excels in both.

The premise is a great one. Billy McCarty, a retired dentist in the quiet town of Pueblo, Colorado, tells everyone he meets he used to be Billy the Kid. Was he really? That's the central question of the novel— but there's a whole lot more going on.

Peter Meech offers and intimate and thoughtful portrayal of a short period in McCarty's life. And "Kid" or not, he's a fascinating character. In his memory—or imagination (or both) he reflects on the past he may (or may not) have had fighting in the Lincoln County War, landing with the Rough Riders in Cuba, working for Buffalo Bill's Wild West, meeting Jesse James, and seeking spiritual enlightenment with the Mescalero Apache. 

In the present, meanwhile, he's playing mentor to a kid whose father is in trouble, trying to spark the prettiest widow in town, and walking a thin and deadly line between rival bootleggers. And all while, he's collecting "Kid" memorabilia and plugging away on his memoir, to be called My Life and Times.

Part of the fun is seeing how an Old Westerner is adapting to the changing times. It's the early 1930s, a world with Cadillacs, Tommy guns, Prohibition, Zippo lighters, Standard Oil, Fats Waller, Blondie and Dagwood, Mars bars, the Reverend Fulton J. Sheen, Piggly Wiggly and the planet Pluto. We see Billy driving a Model T, going to the movies, discovering Wonder Bread, drinking Coca-Cola, reading Burma Shave signs and listening to The Lone Ranger on the radio.

But it's not all fun and games. Mr. Meech deals in serious themes like grief and loss, parental and social responsibility, the Seen and the Unseen, what it feels like to kill, and what it means to be a man. There's something for everyone here: humor, romance, murder and gunslinging action. And all elegantly told.

Billy (the Kid) is a book you don't want to miss.

Look-N-See Gum Cards - Men of the West (1952)

x

Thanks again to brittlebrain.

Poster Gallery: BILLY THE KID

 1941

1936 

 1846

 1941

 1952

1950

Overhyped Films: The Outlaw

Everybody’s heard of The Outlaw. It’s famous for being infamous, right? But how many people have actually seen it?

Until a couple of weeks ago, I was one of those heard but not seen people. Now I’m not, and I’m poorer for it. Not only did I waste 116 minutes of my life watching this turkey, but it’s costing me another 20 minutes to write this post.

So how bad is it? So bad I couldn’t bear to watch it in one, or even two, sittings. It eventually took four, spread out over a week and a half, before I finally reached the end.

The first horrible thing about it, the thing that smacks you in the face in the first few minutes and never lets up, is the heavy-handed soundtrack. Every detail of the action, every raised eyebrow and every twitch of the finger, is trumpeted by the music. There’s even a coronet making laughing sounds (ala a Three Stooges short) every time we’re supposed to be amused. This film could be played on the radio and you wouldn’t miss a thing, except the thing it’s most famous for - Jane Russell’s you-know-whats.

Which brings up the film’s second major flaw, the casting. Walter Huston is actually pretty good as Doc Holliday, but everyone else is a joke. Thomas Mitchell, who would make a fine Bozo the Clown, makes a ridiculous Pat Garrett. And Jack Buetel as Billy the Kid? They’d have been better off casting Bugs Bunny. Buetel poses and slouches and mumbles and looks moody, with no redeeming entertainment value. And finally, Jane Russell, who gets top billing, is there only because of her bod. Her range of expression goes all the way from sullen to pouting and back again. (You can tell she’s pouting when she thrusts out her lower lip.)

And if you can stand the music and the cast long enough, you’ll be appalled by the story. Or lack thereof. Near as I could tell, it boils down to this: Pat and Doc are old friends. Doc meets Billy and they become friendly rivals. Pat wants to arrest Billy but Doc objects. Eventually Doc winds up dead. Billy rides away and Pat’s sad. THE END.

But wait. What about Jane Russell? What’s she doing there? Not a damn thing. She has no part in the story. She’s just there for the men to ignore, to pout about it, and to occasionally thrust her you-know-whats in front of the camera.

A lot of folks on the Internet talk about this film depicting a homoerotic triangle between Pat, Doc and Billy. I couldn’t see it, and figured they must be imagining it - until near the end, when Doc and Billy do everything but kiss, and Pat nearly wets his pants with jealousy. Yep, those Internet folks are right.

I’m thinking Howard Hughes was mighty dang lucky this movie was yanked out of theaters for being too racy in 1943. Otherwise, it would have passed quietly into well-deserved obscurity, instead of being a box office bonanza when it was re-released in 1946.

Bottom Line: I want my 116 minutes back. I’ll suffer the loss of this 20 minutes of typing, because I discovered something I like about his movie: It’s fun to loathe. 

For less Overhyped Films, see this week's lineup at SWEET FREEDOM.

Mitchell, Huston, you-know-whats, Buetel.