Writer-director Michael Cimino's debut film runs the common course of action pictures these days: no plot until the last half, no seriousness until the last reel. It sits a little more comfortably than it probably should, because of the attractiveness of the cast -- Clint Eastwood, a terribly underrated straight man; Jeff Bridges, beamish as a likable lout with a handy cliché for every occasion; George Kennedy, a bear; Geoff Lewis, doing the most with the least -- and the attractiveness of the Northwest mountain scenery. (1974) — Duncan Shepherd
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