David Rayfiel – The Magnificent 60s

Behind the Scenes: “Valdez Is Coming” (1971) – Book Into Film

Elmore Leonard novels were catnip to the movies. From The Tall T (1957) and 3:10 to Yuma (1957) a shelf load of his books have been filmed by Hollywood – some of them (3:10 to Yuma, 52 Pick Up, The Big Bounce, Get Shorty) twice. What he brings to the table is a lean story and an interesting lead character, whether in the western – Hombre (1967), Joe Kidd (1972) – or crime division such as Mr Majestyk (1974) or Get Shorty (1995).

What you probably don’t realize is that pulp fiction (books that made their debut in paperback) were generally short, limited to 50,000-60,000 words rather than the 120,000-150,000 blockbuster “airport” novels, published first in hardcover, that dominated the bestseller lists. The shorter novel led to a leaner narrative, less characters, little in the way of subplot and information drop.

Valdez Is Coming made a speedy transition from paperback (published by Fawcett in the US in 1970, though it did achieve a hardcover edition in the UK) to movie (United Artists release 1971) and it’s interesting to see what changes, if any were made by screenwriters Roland Kibbee (The Appaloosa, 1966) and David Rayfiel (Castle Keep, 1969). You could literally transpose Leonard’s dialog and it would easily stand up in a movie. So the basic, very simple, plot is retained.

Mexican sheriff Valdez (Burt Lancaster in the film) gets it into his head that the mistaken killing of an African American requires monetary compensation and determines that cattle baron Frank Tanner whose mistake led to the killing should be the one to cough up. Tanner sees is differently, sends Valdez packing and when the sheriff returns a second time to plead his case exacts brutal punishment in the form a rudimentary crucifixion.

This triggers a personality change in Valdez. He reverts from being the subservient suit-wearing lawman to the feared sharpshooter who previously hunted down Apaches.

So one of the alterations in the book to film is this transition. In the book we know from the outset he has kept buried his older self in order not to attract attention and to live a peaceful life. That is verbalized via internal monologue and a scene with brothel keeper Inez, who is absent from the film. In the movie his past is visualized, as he pulls out from under his bed a hidden armory and a photo of his previous self.

In the film he is introduced riding shotgun on a stagecoach. He works part-time as a “constable” rather than a sheriff. In the book riding shotgun is the bigger job, keeping the peace requiring little of his time.

All the main incidents – initial rebuff by Tanner, the shooting of bullets around Valdez, the crucifixion, the kidnapping of Tanner’s wife Gay (Susan Clark), the involvement of wannabe gunslinger RL Davies (Richard Jordan), the picking off one-by-one of Tanner’s men and the final stand-off (a Mexican stand-off if ever there was one) – come straight from Elmore Leonard.

But the screenwriters make some critical changes. In the film the kidnapping is accidental, Gay snatched as a hostage as Valdez escapes from a gunfight at Tanner’s house. In the book, there’s no shoot-out at the house, Valdez kidnaps Gay in order to have something to trade with.

In the film it’s – rather surprisingly given his role so far – the weaselly gunman Davies who cuts Valdez free of the bonds of the crucifix. But that’s a considerable simplification from the book. For quite a long time in the book, Valdez believes that Gay cut him loose. And until Davies challenges that assertion, she lets Valdez believe it was her.

For the biggest change is the screenwriters’ decision to eliminate the Valdez-Gay romance. After being captured, in the book she makes overtures to him, whether initially out of survival instinct is unclear, and they make love and he begins to fall for her. We learn why she killed her husband – domestic abuse. Also that Tanner is a convicted felon and that he is a gunrunner supplying arms to Mexican rebels.

So by the time we come to the end there’s more riding on it in the book. Tanner is left isolated not just by his gang boss backing off but by his lover siding with Valdez.

One other point, I noted that in the film the guy called El Segundo (Barton Hayman) was referred to as “the segundo” (in lower case letters) in the book. So I looked it up. Literally, “Segundo” means “number two” which made sense either way.

I’ve been so used to comparing blockbuster novels with their movie adaptation and trying to work what they kept in – and why – that it never occurred to me that one of the reasons so many pulp fiction books were purchased by the movies was because screenwriters had to tussle with less plot and fewer characters.

If you’ve never read any Elmore Leonard this is as good a place as any to start.

Castle Keep (1969) ****

A bit more directorial bombast and this could have matched Apocalypse Now (1979) in the surrealist war stakes. Never mind the odd incidents surrounding a small unit of G.I.s taking over a magnificent Belgian castle towards the end of World War II prior to what turned out to be the Battle of the Bulge, this has on occasion such a dreamlike quality you wonder if it is all a figment of the imagination of one of the characters, wannabe writer Private Benjamin (Al Freeman Jr.). Throw in a stunning image, for the beleaguered soldiers at the start, of a horsewoman charging by in a yellow cloak, so out of place that it carries as much visual impact as the unicorn in Blade Runner (1982), and we are in definite cult territory.

One of the unusual elements is that, in this unexpected respite from battle, the soldiers are defined by character traits rather than dialogue or bravery as would be the norm. This ranges from baker Sergeant Rossi (Peter Falk) taking over the boulangerie and bedding the baker’s wife (Olga Bisera), mechanic Corporal Clearboy (Scott Wilson) diving into a lake to rescue a Volkswagen and the troops receiving a lecture on art history from Captain Beckman (Patrick O’Neal).

Commander Major Falconer (Burt Lancaster) is not only brilliant in the art of war, but calmly mentors Beckman through a firefight with an enemy airplane, teaches local sex workers how to make Molotov cocktails and, evoking ancient aristocratic tradition, enjoys conjugal relations with the conquered countess (Astrid Heeren), whose impotent husband (Jean-Pierre Aumont) encourages the relationship since the castle needs an heir.

There is wistful revelation, Beckman clearly hankering after his turn with the countess, a minister who wishes he had the courage to join the boys in the brothel, the young soldiers there being treated as children rather than customers. And there are juvenile pranks – moustaches are painted on statues, wine bottles used for ten-pin bowling practice.

But the surreal moments keep mounting up. The Volkwagen, though riddled with bullets, refuses to sink in the lake, a hidden German reveals himself by playing the same tune on a flute as one of the soldiers. The countess often appears as an ethereal vision.

Through it all is rank realism. Falconer knows a German previously shared the countess’s bed. The count will do anything to safeguard his castle and maintain the family line, even to the extent of incest, since his wife is actually his niece. But above all, while his troops believe the war is at an end and enjoy the pleasures at hand, Major Falconer prepares for rearguard action by the Germans, filling the moat with gasoline, planning to pull up the drawbridge and control the high ground.

The battle, when it comes, is vivid and brutal, the initial skirmish a hand-to-hand battle in the village before the Germans begin their siege of the castle.

Burt Lancaster (The Swimmer, 1968) is superb, far removed from his normal aggressive or athletic persona, slipping with pragmatic ease from the countess’s bed to battle stations. War films in the 1960s were full of great individual conflicts often won on a twist of ingenious strategy but seldom have we encountered a soldier like Falconer who knows every detail of war, from where and how the enemy will approach, to the details of the range of weaponry, and knows that shooting dead four soldiers from a German scouting mission still leaves one man unaccounted for.

Patrick O’Neal (Alvarez Kelly, 1966) also leaves behind his usual steely-eyed screen persona, here essaying a somewhat timid and thoughtful character. Peter Falk’s (Machine Gun McCain, 1969) baker is a beauty, a man who abandons war, if only temporarily, for a second “home,” baking bread, adopting a wife and child. In a rare major Hollywood outing French actor Jean-Pierre Aumont (Five Miles to Midnight, 1962) carries off a difficult role as a count willing to accept the humiliation of being cuckolded if it improves his chances of an heir. In one of only four screen appearances German actress Astrid Heeren (The Thomas Crown Affair, 1968) makes the transition from a woman going to bed with whoever offers the greatest chance of saving the beloved castle to one gently falling in love.

There is an excellent supporting cast. Bruce Dern (Support Your Local Sheriff, 1969) makes the most of a standout role as a conscientious objector. You will also find Scott Wilson (In Cold Blood, 1967), Al Freeman Jr. (The Detective, 1968), future director Tony Bill (Ice Station Zebra, 1968) and Michael Conrad (Sol Madrid / The Heroin Gang, 1968).

Two top-name writers converted William Eastlake’s novel into a screenplay – Oscar-winning Daniel Taradash (Hawaii, 1966) and newcomer David Rayfiel who would work with Lancaster again on Valdez Is Coming (1971) and with Pollack on Three Days of the Condor (1973) and Havana (1990)

Sydney Pollack (This Property Is Condemned, 1966), who had teamed up with Lancaster on western The Scalphunters, 1968), does a terrific job of marshalling the material, casting an hypnotic spell in pulling this tantalising picture together, giving characters space and producing some wonderful images, but more especially for having the courage to leave it all hanging between fantasy and reality.

Expressions like “we have been here before,” “once upon a time,” “the supernatural” and “a thousand years old” take solid root as the narrative develops and will likely keep spinning in your mind as you try to work out what it’s all about.

Castle Keep (1969) ****

One of the unusual elements is that, in this unexpected respite from battle, the soldiers are defined by character traits rather than dialogue or bravery as would be the norm. This ranges from baker Sergeant Rossi (Peter Falk) taking over the village boulangerie and bedding the baker’s wife (Olga Bisera), mechanic Corporal Clearboy (Scott Wilson) diving into a lake to rescue a Volkswagen he has adopted and the troops receiving a lecture on art history from Captain Beckman (Patrick O’Neal).

There is wistful revelation, Beckman clearly hankering after his turn with the countess, a trainee minister who wishes he had the courage to join the boys in the brothel, the young soldiers there being treated as children rather than customers. And there are juvenile pranks – moustaches are painted on statues, wine bottles used for ten-pin bowling practice.

But the surreal moments keep mounting up. The Volkwagen, though riddled with bullets, refuses to sink in the lake, a hidden German reveals himself by playing the same tune on a flute as one of the enemy, the countess often appearing as an ethereal vision.