Oddly paced but always intriguing, Bad Company (not to be confused with the retarded 2002 Chris Rock vehicle) takes time to find its cynical voice, steadily improving as it moves away from its goofy and implausible opening to a rough and nihilistic New Hollywood landscape. At first I just didn’t buy Drew Dixon’s (Barry Brown) sudden decision to join Jack Rumsey’s (Jeff Bridges) gang after Jack clubbed him over the head and robbed him. But like any good New Hollywood film, you just don’t know the characters as well as you think.
As draft dodgers Drew and Jack drift Westward, they almost appear as innocents in the rough, exploited land, the festering American dream spreading like a plague over the prairie. The best way to approach “Bad Company” is to see as it a grimy parody of road movies, where the bromides of the “freedom of the open road” is replaced by the desperation and depravity of a nation at war with itself. I enjoyed Bad Company because each scene develops in an unexpected, sometimes shocking way, and not once was is a lesson learned or a character redeemed. In predator-prey universe, moral hypocrisy is often the best weapon to wield. And what better place to hone that weapon than the lawless American West, and whatever metaphors you care to attach to it.
An obscure film that even Netflix had trouble getting for me, Bad Company is a must see for the Bridges fan, the Western aficionado, and the New Hollywood completest. It’s a pity director Robert Benton chose to continue his career with schmaltz-fests such as Kramer vs. Kramer, Places in the Heart, and yes, Superman. I suppose I prefer my heroes ground into the dirt, I guess.
Tags: Acid West, Bad Company, Jeff Bridges, Revisionist West