As an independent producer-star, circus-tough with charisma to burn, Burt Lancaster could be hard on directors. So it wasn't surprising when he decided he could do the job himself. It was a mistake he made only once (apart from cohelming 1974's The Midnight Man). For all his balletic control as an actor-athlete, Lancaster showed no sense of how a film should move and breathe over an hour and a half, or how to make the characters' growth or changes of mind credible. The Kentuckian has a bedrock American folk tale at its core, but scarcely a clue how to tell it. It's the early 18th century--Monroe is president--and buckskin-clad Lancaster and his son (Donald MacDonald) are lighting out for Texas: "It ain't we don't like people--we like room more." They plan to briefly visit Lancaster's tobacco-dealer brother (John McIntire) in the river town of Humility, then move on. But there are complications from a long-running feud, and some nasty baiting from a whip-cracking storekeeper (Walter Matthau in his film debut); the need to replace their "Texas money" after buying freedom for a bondservant (Dianne Foster); also the matter of deciding who's prettier, her or the local schoolmarm (Diana Lynn). Lancaster aims for some quaint Americana--a sing-along to the tinkling of a pianoforte, a jaw-dropping riverside production number--and there's one nifty bit of action based on how long it took to reload a flintlock rifle. But mostly this film just lies there in overlit CinemaScope. --Richard T. Jameson
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