The heart of this movie, which make the rest of it come alive -- zigzagging dissolves and all -- is Robards' and Stevens' performances and some of Lucien Ballard's shots, mostly cloudscapes he catches behind the characters. I don't know whether Peckinpah had to direct this, and I don't mean because of the low level of violence. It's a comic elegy to the pioneer individualist where the system isn't trying to beat him down. He slides one way, while the system slides the other; both taking 'er easy. Of course the system slides the pavement under Hogue's feet, but there's no dialectic Peckinpah is experimenting with this time. Yeah, I know we're all charmed with what Hogue represents and we hate to see him go, but almost a whole movie about collectively basking in that feeling? Even the banker is nice in this one. ------------------ A reconsideration, with some SPOILERS: *** Maybe we're deliberately left with handful of unsatisfying suggestions about what he might represent in history. "He was a man," I think the Preacher says solemnly -- emptily??? The movie basks in our feeling for this guy, who is between worlds that won't fully have him -- since he is his own man, by choice. It's sad to watch that feeling contrast with the quickness of each character's mourning for him at the end. ??"He was a man" ... Maybe this movie ends up being about loneliness as our sacrifice in living out American ideals. Cable makes that sacrifice more honorably than most of us would even aspire to, without any regrets.