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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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time
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020689
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02068900.061
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1990-09-17
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VIDEO, Page 78Poetry on The PrairieBy Richard Zoglin
LONESOME DOVE
CBS, beginning Feb. 5, 9 p.m. EST
A pair of former Texas Rangers, now tending a small ranch in
South Texas, suddenly pick up stakes and launch a cattle drive to
Montana. Why? A friend has convinced them that there are big
opportunities up north. What's more, says one, "I want to see that
country before the bankers and lawyers all get it." But if the
truth be told, the long trek -- initiated by an almost chance
remark, beset by terrible hardships -- seems a futile whim.
From a commercial standpoint, futility might also describe the
CBS mini-series Lonesome Dove. TV westerns went out of vogue nearly
two decades ago, and remain the medium's most stubbornly
unfashionable genre. Lengthy mini-series too are at a low ebb of
popularity, especially after last fall's disappointing War and
Remembrance. Will crowds of viewers really mosey to the set for a
four-night, eight-hour saga about cowboys on the trail?
Mebbe not. Yet Lonesome Dove rides rings around the overstuffed
soap operas that usually pass for "epics" along Broadcast Row.
Larry McMurtry's fat novel has been brought to TV -- by writer Bill
Wittliff and director Simon Wincer -- with sweep, intelligence and
sheer storytelling drive. Firmly anchoring the film is Robert
Duvall's moving performance as the wry, philosophical ex-lawman
Augustus McCrae. Tommy Lee Jones provides stern counterpoint as
McCrae's partner, Woodrow F. Call. Dozens of finely etched
characters surround them: a roguish ex-Ranger turned gambler
(Robert Urich); a prostitute looking for escape (Diane Lane); a
wimpy sheriff (Chris Cooper) searching for his runaway wife; and
a lost love (Anjelica Huston) whom McCrae locates on the plains of
Nebraska. Not to mention sadistic outlaws, vicious Indians and
other disasters, natural and man-made, on the road to Montana.
In the mode of westerns like The Wild Bunch, Lonesome Dove
notes the passing of an era. "Durn people makin' towns everywhere,"
says McCrae. "It's our fault too. We chased out the Indians . . .
hung all the good bandits . . . killed off most of the people that
made this country interesting to begin with." But Lonesome Dove is
surprisingly nonrevisionist in its picture of the West. The good
guys still perform stunning heroics with six-shooters, and Indians
are faceless villains who whoop when they ride. Yet in its everyday
details -- the dust and the spit, the casual conversations about
whoring, the pain of a man getting a mesquite thorn removed from
his thumb -- this may be the most vividly rendered old West in TV
history.
There are scenes of harrowing violence and terrible brutality,
made more shocking by their matter-of-fact presentation. A hanging
on the trail is so swift and morally disturbing that the
unsuspecting viewer is left breathless. Suffusing it all is
McCrae's stoic resignation in the face of misfortune. "Yesterday's
gone; we can't get it back," he tells a man grieving over three
murdered bodies. "You go on with your diggin', and I'll tidy up the
dead." In its terse prairie poetry, Lonesome Dove celebrates not
just the old West but also the men who could witness the randomness
and cruelty of life and accept it.