Never mind that it's already been done before and better; it's never been done this pretty.
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Everybody knows that as far as films are concerned, the American Western bit the dust years ago, with only the occasional Clint Eastwood or Kevin Costner picture to remind us of its passing. Watching 2001's "American Outlaws" confirms why. With a cast and soundtrack that would appear more at home on MTV than the Wild West, this foray into cowboy legend assembles a crew of young and beautiful actors in yet another attempt to glorify the exploits of Jesse James and his band of outlaws. Never mind that it's already been done before and better; it's never been done this pretty. It's a carefree, fairy-tale style Western, about as far from reality as Gene Autry's "Yodelin' Kid from Pine Ridge" is from Sam Peckinpah's "The Wild Bunch."
I suppose "American Outlaws" is a decent Western for young people who have never seen an American Western before and have nothing to compare it to. It sticks to a simplistic plot, stock characters, attractive actors, pop music, and a maximum of killing with a minimum of bloodshed.
Everything about the real outlaw is whitewashed over with a layer of treacle, leaving only a kind of tepid TV sitcom in its wake. Now, before you say to yourself, "Yes, but it's all true, isn't it?" consider this: The facts about Jesse James have long ago faded into legend. Just about anything you say about the man could possibly have been true and will find its staunch adherents. So, basically, we have to examine this movie as a movie, not as historical fact. And it's as a movie that it's fundamentally flawed, developing little or no symphathy for its heroes, little or no tension or suspense, little or no reason for caring. At no time does the movie ever catch fire, come to life, or show a spark of imagination, adding nothing new to the tale of America's most-famous bandit.
Given that "American Outlaws" was directed by Les Mayfield, whose previous credits include "Flubber," "Encinco Man," and "Blue Streak," it's no small surprise to find him taking a lightweight view of the Old West (or old Missouri in this case, the "West" in 1865). In terms of its blithe mood, I guess the filmmakers were aiming to achieve something along the lines of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," but at least there we could see the movie was meant to be humorous. "American Outlaws" isn't supposed to be an outright comedy, but, frankly, that's the only way one can view it and not be offended by its cornball bunk. Trouble is, it's not very funny, either.
The movie begins on the last day of the Civil War, and it's here that the filmmakers set the tone for the rest of the picture. Jesse, his brother Frank, and their pals are part of a small group of rebels under siege by an overwhelming number of Union troops. With a six-gun in each hand, Jesse charges the enemy lines and almost single-handedly wipes out about eight hundred Yankees, a cannon, and a Gatling gun. Later in the film, he repeats this daring-do in various ambushes and escapes. It's not just unrealistic and historically inaccurate, it's downright unbelievable. You see, the thing about the "Butch Cassidy" movie is that no matter how humorous it was, it all basically happened. "American Outlaws" is pretty much based on the dime novels about Jesse and his band, with a load of comic twaddle thrown in.
Anyway, after the War's over Jesse and Frank return home to Liberty, Missouri, where they find the railroad wants to buy their land. When they and their fellow farmers refuse to sell, the evil capitalists, with the help of the evil Pinkerton Detective Agency and the evil U.S. government, begin killing them and blowing up their farms. Jesse and Frank join forces with their friends, the Youngers, and fight back by robbing trains and banks, giving much of their loot back to their downtrodden neighbors. Well, historically, I understand the James boys always claimed they robbed trains and banks because they were being persecuted by the authorities, so I guess the filmmakers were just taking them at their word.
Everything about the film is a nod toward the youth audience. In the leading role of Jesse is young Colin Farrell, the actor you may not remember was so exceptional in his previous picture, "Tigerland," because so few people saw it. "American Outlaws" was supposed to be Farrell's breakout picture, but, as it turns out, too few people saw this one as well, and it would take "Minority Report" and "Phone Booth" to establish his reputation. In any case, Farrell's character is not very well scripted, and Jesse is upstaged at every turn by his brother Frank (Gabriel Macht), a much more charismatic chap.
The Youngers--Bob, Cole, and Jim--are played respectively by Wil McCormack, Scott Caan, and Gregory Smith. They're all good ol' boys, with nothing but kindness in their hearts for anybody not connected with the Evil Empire (railroad, Pinkertons, and government). Two token female roles are included in the story as well: Ali Larter as Zee, the gorgeous daughter of a local doctor (Ronny Cox), a little girl grown up with whom Jesse falls in love and marries. And Kathy Bates, over-the-top as Ma James, who gets blown up with her farmhouse. Towering over all the other actors, though, are Harris Yulin, doing his best Rip Torn impersonation as Thaddeus Rains, the president of the railroad; and former 007 Timothy Dalton as Allan Pinkerton, head of the detective agency, both men old pros adding enough wink to their performances to show they understand the whole thing's meant to be taken in fun. I mean, how else can you interpret a line like this one from Rains: "We'll teach these Podunks what happens when they challenge the righteousness of progress!"
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