THE GREY FOX: The Gentleman Bandit

There’s something special going on with Phillip Borsos’ The Grey Fox. The film’s technical, aesthetic merits are distinctively superlative, only to be bolstered by a remarkable late-era performance from Richard Farnsworth on par with his oscar-nominated turn in The Straight Story. We’ll get to that later, but with The Grey Fox, there’s this gently rumbling, almost subliminal atmosphere that envelopes you. There are these moments that hover over you like a foggy recollection; perhaps its the nature of the story, a perfect vehicle to convey the mythic proportions of the American west.

Richard Farnsworth is our ‘Grey Fox,’ Bill Miner, also known as ‘The Gentleman Bandit,’ a real figure who, after a thirty-three-year term in prison for robbing stagecoaches, finds himself flirting with the notion of going straight. But he can’t contend with a new world that he doesn’t recognize amid the burgeoning days of the 20th century and decides to return to his occupation of robbery; however, his targets are now steam engines instead of stagecoaches.

Modern Times

While a lesser film would make an argument about fate, or destiny, The Grey Fox offers a more compelling insight; Miner’s inspiration comes from seeing a screening of The Great Train Robbery. This is what gives the film its distinctive shimmer, seeing Farnsworth sitting in a hazy room while images from Edwin S. Porter’s indelible feature flicker against his furrowed face as he gazes in sincere astonishment.

Not only is this (likely) his introduction to the moving image, but this is awakening something in him. Farnsworth is communicating something, something brewing in him, and we know he’s letting us in on the joke, riddle, whatever it may be, and he does so without saying a word.

Revisionist Western Masterclass

The quiet rectitude of Borsos’ direction and the mannered gravel of Farnsworth‘s performance is the backbone of The Grey Fox. It could stop there, but it doesn’t. All the standout revisionist westerns flourish because they reinterpret the genre by looking at a changing period, from the mournful lyricism of John Ford to the swooning nihilism of Sam Peckinpah. The devil of revisionist westerns is in the details, and Borsos operates with the informed purview of his forbearers.

The Grey Fox sees a man at a crossroads, during a time that might not belong to him. It’s as if the world turned faster with each new juncture of progress, and yet doesn’t accept defeat. In the truest sense of the rebellious loner, outlaw persona Miner refuses defeat; he won’t hang up his shooter, despite if it’s right or wrong isn’t the main line, this works without the haughty moralizing fibers of its counterparts or the declarative fatalism of something like The Wild Bunch. Yet, it’s just as memorable and affecting.

Richard Farnsworth is delightfully understated; it’s the age-old adage of “less is more.” With his sturdily natural features and grizzled timber, Farnsworth channels that mournful stoicism that few American actors presses. Sam Shephard had it, the same as Randolph Scott and Warren Oats. Farnsworth’s strong persona and a screen presence that speaks volumes – why bog the character down with needless dialogue? Reserved but with a modernist eye, there’s also a sly feminist bent with Miner’s romance with Jackie Burroughs’ Katherine Flynn, a standout badass of the frontier who contemporizes the movie in the best possible way.

Past, Present and Beyond

Perhaps it’s the sawdust veneer of the film’s period rendering or the time in which it was conceived, but The Grey Fox is sizzling with an indistinct charm in that it’s a film that exists on its own terms. Maybe it’s the ultra-hip, self-consciousness of our current movie market, where your genre fare is either a rehash, remake, reboot, or belongs to the glut of franchise fodder. While this is veering dangerously close to the “they don’t make em’ like they used to,” but it is refreshing to see something completely unironic that works on its terms. The rousing score by Irish folk sensation The Chieftains only adds to the excitement.

Conclusion

The self-styled, atmospheric glow of The Grey Fox is brought back thanks to Kino Lorber (touring virtually via their Kino Marquee moniker), and the 4K restoration looks immaculate.

What are your thoughts on The Grey Fox?

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