The Hunting Party (1971)

[Eddie Love]

Released in the wake of THE WILD BUNCH and very much in the Peckinpah mode, 1971’s THE HUNTING PARTY is a film I recall having a terrible reputation; I think I can remember its scoring a BOMB in a dog-eared copy of Leonard Maltin’s book. It’s by no means terrible; at times it’s suitably compelling. However, seen today, the once self-consciously daring elements that defined it upon its release either fall flat, or are frankly appalling. Your ability to look passed that will govern your reaction to watching it -- if you undertake doing so at all.

In the very first frames of this Western we see our heroine, Candice Bergen, being subject to a sexual assault by her husband, Gene Hackman; playing a rich and powerful cattle baron named Brandt Ruger. (And if you walk away with nothing else from this film, are you ever likely to forget that name? Just say it once…”Brandt Ruger.” See?) In addition to being a sexual sadist and a general prick, Brandt is a hunting enthusiast. He assembles some of his wealthy buddies to ride out on his lavishly appointed private railcar to go on a two-week hunting trip during which they’ll break out the highly powered rifles Brandt has bought each of them, complete with telescopic scopes that allow for hitting something from 800 yards away.

While Brandt is torturing the prostitutes he’s brought along for the party, his wife is kidnapped by a band of cattle-rustlers led by Oliver Reed and his dodgy American accent. Reed has mistaken Candy for merely a simple schoolmarm and promises “the little lady” that she won’t get hurt as long as she teaches him to read as she rides, against her will, along with his gang.

From the outset Reed steps in to prevent his captive from being assaulted by his men. As she was first thrown into one of their wagons, L.Q. Jones’ pants were around his ankles as she vigorously fought him off. And there are no damsel in distress visual euphemisms at work here – she is going to be violated, and her face registers this terror throughout. (In a later scene her struggling is cut short by a viscous punch to the stomach.) Reed, however, serves as her protector. But not for long. Later that night as the men sleep, Bergen escapes, but Reed is awake and when she collapses in frustration he then rapes her himself, in a scene that is entirely revolting in its mechanics and implications and yet, at the same time, is powerfully performed by the two actors in what is mostly one long take they share. It’s completely appalling and stunningly played.

Here and elsewhere in this picture Bergen is really good, this may be her best performance. As long as she isn’t speaking, she’s completely believable and authentic. I was really invested in her character at this point and rooted for her to slip free of her abductors. She attempts this the following day and is once again returned to Reed who now won’t feed her until she starts teaching him. In the scene that marks this film’s turning point (as well as its complete moral damnation) Candy succumbs to the peach preserves Ollie offers her in a very long comical (!) scene that’s accompanied by the tackiest, playful underscoring. Afterwards, the two embark on what becomes a conventional Western romance as the rape victim falls in love with the man who violated her.



As we’re asked to stomach this appalling dynamic, the film also enters a thrilling and compelling phase. Hackman and his men, now aware of Bergin’s plight, have begun to stalk Reed’s gang and are able to pick them off one by one from afar. The gang literally doesn’t know what hit them. These are terrific scenes, skillfully rendered. The perspective shifts expertly from hunter to prey and the nature of the outlaws existential threat where death visits them from out of the blue without warning is fascinating. It’s like the truck-driving scenes from WAGES OF FEAR.

Later, Hackman’s group begins to register their disgust both with hunting men and the delight their host is taking in it. They soon abandon him, as they realize not just the sickening nature of their undertaking, but the growing realization the woman they’re ostensibly rescuing has now embraced her captor.

The film ends with a shocking and brutal climax I can imagine was supposed to be hard-hitting for its time, but didn’t work for me. (Though I think it would have freaked me out if I'd see it years ago.) But I’d stopped caring about the central characters by this point, partly because the film meanders around in the final 20 minutes. More significantly, the Candice Bergin character and her full-blown romance with Reed is simply too unpalatable. There really is no two ways around the fact this film romanticizes rape. We aren’t seeing any kind of dramatic, considered examination of some sort of Stockholm syndrome scenario. Nor is it as brazenly lurid and or deliberately provacative as in Peckinpah’s films of the same era. Rather, it’s plainly the suggestion that Reed’s assault has simply broken through to Bergin in a way her brutal and awkward husband couldn’t. This is a nauseatingly irresponsible sentiment for an entertainment of this sort, and seems perfectly calibrated to connect adversely with anti-social attitudes among borderline members of the audience.

The film demonstrates its shallow moral arithmetic in other ways as well. For instance, we’re supposed to look down on Reed’s band as drooling rapists – as opposed to the dark and brooding variety that Reed represents. This allows us to not feel terribly sympathetic as they’re picked off, and relieves Reed of any complicity in their deaths as, unlike the boss, these guys’re unaware their hostage is the wife of a powerful man and not simply some lowly schoolmarm. (We’re also never clear exactly how many men are in the outlaw band. They die at an alarming rate, but their numbers don’t seem to dwindle correspondingly.)

Reed is his usual compelling presence, but his accent doesn’t work, even though it sounds like he may have re-recorded it. He’s effectively brutish, but out of place all the same. Hackman is fierce, perhaps one-note, but not sure others are really available for a character so repellant. There are good turns among the title band, including Simon Oakland as the voice of reason and a subtle turn by Ronald Howard – TV’s Sherlock Holmes.

THE HUNTING PARTY has some solidly compelling and original scenes of Western action. These taut passages hold up well today. Unfortunately, the curious and ugly notions at the heart of the story are too distracting to make this film easily recommendable, even if there is some deft acting employed to realize them.