Sam Peckinpah’s notoriously “unfinished” Western finds completion and closure on a stunning 4K package by the Criterion Collection
Criterion is renowned for its meticulous restorations, resurrecting classic films from even the most damaged materials in a painstaking effort to preserve them for future generations. The results are dazzling, such as The Apu Trilogy, salvaged from nearly fire-destroyed negatives, and Inland Empire, revitalized with the latest upscaling technologies from original DV tapes. In rare opportunities, Criterion also rewrites film history for the better by restoring and featuring multiple or director-preferred cuts of certain titles. Films like Heaven’s Gate, Until the End of the World, and Fast Times at Ridgemont High have theatrical versions initially mismanaged by higher powers–and are presented in their director’s intended cut. Others like The New World, Brazil, and Andrei Rublev have multiple cuts presented to illustrate the varied and contentious production history of the films themselves. In even rarer cases, as in The Tree of Life, Criterion has even funded new cuts entirely, allowing auteurs to realize their original visions or revisit them with a fresh perspective. These efforts not only extend the legacies of these films for a new audience, but also allow them a rare glimpse into their production and the chance to reflect on which version they prefer and why.
This new release of Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, however, offers something quite new from Criterion–the opportunity to complete a film that, in the estimation of some viewers, critics, and historians, was never quite finished to begin with.
Shot in the twilight of director Sam Peckinpah’s notorious career, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid’s production was plagued with issues from start to finish. Its production was rushed into existence as part of MGM studio head James T. Aubrey’s attempts to stifle the costs of constructing the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. Shooting on location in Mexico was a riotous, excruciatingly public battle between director Peckinpah, the studio reticent to fully bankroll him, his green and inexperienced crew, and his own crippling demons. Peckinpah, in the throes of alcoholism, would regularly have four good hours in him each day, according to star James Coburn. Post-production was an even more grueling affair, with the director and studio warring over a final cut to meet an arbitrary early release date. After finishing two preview versions, Peckinpah and his editorial team abandoned the film, with MGM head Aubrey overseeing a panned theatrical version that was ruthlessly cut by 20 minutes from the last version Peckinpah completed. Much like the ill-fated heroes of Peckinpah’s previous grim, fatalistic Westerns, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid seemed destined to a final, forgotten resting place buried in the annals of film history.
In the years since Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid’s flicker of a theatrical run, Peckinpah’s final Western has seen significant reappraisal. It’s a grisly and ruminative film even compared to the rest of Peckinpah’s nihilistic Rogue’s gallery. However, it may serve as Peckinpah’s most self-indicting film. Both Garrett and Billy are cold-hearted men pursuing what purpose they can in the deserts of the West. Billy embraces the lawless, greed-driven freedom the West provides him; Garrett tries to live up to the (albeit corrupt) sense of law and order he’s been charged with protecting as Sheriff, even if it comes at the cost of former friend Billy’s life. It’s a hopelessly tragic story that begins with bloodshed spread across past and future–and its characters’ pursuit of a life worth living is achingly bittersweet as much as it’s filled with wonton cruelty. Coburn and Kristofferson are both fantastic–pointedly several decades older than the real-life characters they portray, their added age carries such a weight that underscores the increasing fruitlessness of the lives they lead. No one wins here–villain, hero, or Bob Dylan, all are knockin’ on Heaven’s door at the end.
Peckinpah himself bears witness to this inevitability, not just as the film’s director, but as a brief, fitting cameo as a coffin maker just before Garrett makes his descent on Billy’s final hiding place. Peckinpah urges Garrett to “get it over with,” with a resigned finality that seems like it can only come from the years of success and failure that have dogged his career–a time that, like Billy, was quickly approaching its end. He’d spent decades fighting for creative control only to be undone by his own self-destructive impulses, which found its onscreen equivalent in revitalized Westerns drenched in uncomfortably realistic viscera and cold-blooded amorality. This appearance feels so bitingly self-indicting–as if the only way to redeem himself for such torture on-screen and off was to place himself in his own fiction as a bitter final push for the characters into oblivion. It’s all of 30 seconds in most cuts of the film–but hits with the pain of years long-lived. For all of the film’s warring malleabilities, it’s a crucial moment of bittersweet reflection that becomes part of what makes Peckinpah’s final western so memorable.
That continuing search for such intentionality, though, is reflected in the three cuts included in this package. While two non-theatrical cuts of Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (including a 2005 “Special Edition”) have been the dominant versions of the film over the last few decades, Criterion has chosen not to include them here. Instead, there’s a recovered “second preview cut,” ostensibly the last cut Peckinpah worked on before abandoning Pat Garrett entirely–pointedly left “un-restored” to reflect the rough nature of this cut-in-progress. There’s a restoration of the maligned theatrical version, reflecting what was forced onto audiences for years. Finally, brand new to this edition, is a “50th Anniversary Version,” which has allowed assistant editor Roger Spottiswoode and editor/author Paul Seydor continuation of the work put into the seemingly rushed 2005 edition of the film–and to restore as much of Peckinpah’s original vision for the film as possible. While some may miss the two versions that have been left out of this collection, I feel like each of these three cuts work best to provoke a conversation about what such a vision may have ultimately been like, if not for the perfect storm of studio interference and self-destruction that plagued Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid during its production. There’s what was attempted and abandoned; what unfortunately was released; and, finally, a long-awaited attempt to restore what could have been.
The fact that each of these versions has inspired such fierce debate over which one triumphs goes to show that, despite its many conflicting faces, there’s something to the rebellious beating heart of Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. And, to this set’s credit, there isn’t a strict suggestion as to which cut those at Criterion suggest for initial viewers. Instead, we’re encouraged to see this film–and perhaps, all others–as something still evolving long beyond the lives of those who made it. It’s a celebration of a process that drew even Peckinpah back to participate in it time and time again, even after repeated bitter rejections and disappointments. By seeing each of these cuts in chorus with one another after such obscurity, it’s hard not to fall in love with such possibility, too.
VIDEO/AUDIO
Criterion presents all three cuts of Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid in their original 2.35:1 aspect ratio in both 2160p 4K with HDR10 and Dolby Vision and a 1080p transfer of those 4K masters on their respective UHD and Blu-ray Discs. All three cuts feature Monaural English audio tracks, with SDH English subtitles across all three features.
The Theatrical Cut is sourced from the original 35mm camera negative, and remastered from the original DME magnetic track. This cut is now available on home video for the first time since its VHS release.
The Final Preview Cut is a 2K master sourced from a 35mm print from the Academy Film Archive, with the audio sourced from the accompanying magnetic audio track. This is the last cut that Peckinpah worked on directly before refusing to participate in any further studio-mandated notes, after which Roger Spottiswoode and Robert L. Wolfe were brought in to re-edit the film to the theatrically released version. To preserve the rough cut feel of this version, Criterion has opted to present this cut unrestored and with minimal color correction.
The centerpiece of the package is the 50th Anniversary Version, which continues the work originally started by editor and author Paul Seydor and Spottiswoode for a 2005 DVD release. This new 4K master is sourced from the original 35mm camera negative, with a monaural audio track sourced from the two-inch DME magnetic track. In addition to preserving the deleted scenes restored to the 2005 “Special Edition” cut, this new version further corrects color timing, edits, and sound mixing following notes and contemporaneous accounts from Spottiswoode with Peckinpah. However, there is a montage once present in the Special Edition cut from this version–featuring Garrett and a series of prostitutes late in the film–that can be seen in its rough form in the Final Preview Cut.
Despite such lengthy periods of equal preservation and neglect, the transfers for the 50th Anniversary and Theatrical versions are quite stunning, preserving a healthy amount of film grain and occasional celluloid aberrations while maintaining a focus on clarity and rich, earthy textures. The Final Preview Cut is in rough condition, with faded coloring and plenty of film scratches, yet even this scan retains a beautiful, grindhouse-ish feel. Given the transition of the West from exuberant lawlessness to one of stifling order, it rings true that the vibrant colors here would look appropriately drained and hollow. The Monaural track on each feature resounds on any sound system, particularly prioritizing Rudy Wurlitzer’s hard-boiled dialogue and Bob Dylan’s iconic soundtrack.
SPECIAL FEATURES
Discs One (4K UHD) and Three (Blu-ray)
- 50th Anniversary Version (1h57m)
- Original Theatrical Version (1h46m)
- Audio Commentary on the 50th Anniversary Version, recorded for this release and featuring supervising editors Paul Seydor and Roger Spottiswoode, and critic Michael Sragow.
Disc Two (4K UHD)
- Final Preview Cut (2h2m)
Disc Four (Blu-ray)
- Final Preview Cut (2h2m)
- Dylan in Durango: A new 16-minute interview with Bob Dylan biographer Clinton Heylin discussing the origins and recording history of Bob Dylan’s soundtrack, as well as his participation in the film as an actor.
- Passion & Poetry – Peckinpah’s Last Western: A new 48-minute documentary by filmmaker Mike Siegel, featuring previously unheard on-set audio interviews with Sam Peckinpah, as well as archival and new interviews with cast and crew members, including James Coburn and Kris Kristofferson.
- James Coburn: A 27-minute archival interview from 1988 featuring lead actor James Coburn for Champlin on Film. Here, Coburn reflects on the film’s troubled production history, his process in playing Pat Garrett, and his relationship with director Peckinpah.
- Trailer for Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid’s original theatrical release.
- TV Spots for Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid’s original theatrical release.
- Booklet featuring an excellent essay by novelist Steve Erickson, reflecting on Peckinpah’s enduring draw to reinventing the Western, the factual history behind Billy the Kid and Sheriff Garrett, Peckinpah’s recurring obsessions with personal codes and honor, and the striking approaches to performance by Coburn, Kristofferson, and Dylan.
Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid is now available on 4K UHD and Blu-ray courtesy of the Criterion Collection.
