Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia

There was probably no greater director in the U.S. from 1969-1974 than Sam Peckinpah. He made seven films, ranging from classics (The Wild Bunch) to superior genre pics (The Getaway). And before his career began sliding, he had one more masterpiece in him: Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. This is the story of one man's alcohol-fueled journey into dissolution and redemption and a really strange film. Warren Oates plays Benny, a piano player cajoled by a pair of men into finding Alfredo's head. See, Alfredo impregnated the daughter of a vicious landowner, and now he wants him dead. But this isn't really what the film is about. It's more about Benny, and how his journey costs him everything. Warren Oates is wonderful as Benny, and there are some great darkly comic moments between him and the head. And this is one of Michael Medved's 50 worst movies of all time - what more of a recommendation do you require? Seriously, this is a great film.

Sam Peckinpah's hallucinatory bloodbath was considered career suicide when released in 1974; today, this scuzzy, squirrelly road movie looks less like self-parody than self-autopsy. As such, it has aged better than some of Peckinpah's more "reputable" movies. Like John Cassavetes' THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE and Brian DePalma's BLOW OUT, it's a thinly veiled allegory about the muck a filmmaker will wade through to get his movies made. Peckinpah's stand-in is Warren Oates, an actor who always brought a rotgut reek of authenticity to his roles; here, he's a washed-up pianist who stands to score a bundle if he completes one simple task--fetching the severed head of the yutz who impregnated a Mexican warlord's daughter. When Oates isn't defending his not-unwilling girlfriend (Isela Vega) from rapists Kris Kristofferson and Donnie Fritts (!), he's carrying on a boozy, uh, tête-à-tête with the brown-bagged head on an endless drive down Mexico way. But Oates isn't the villain--that distinction is reserved for the effete suits (the slimy duo of Gig Young and Robert Webber) on his tail. Oates is just a guy trying to maintain enough of his integrity to see a dirty job through: He's one of those screw-you Peckinpah heroes who completes his assignment just so he can wage war on his bosses. The movie has such a gritty, oozing, flyblown feel you could swear it was shot on No-Pest Strips instead of celluloid, and as Oates bears down on oblivion it slows to a druggy crawl: Each cut is like a dying man's blink. No matter-in its sick, ornery way, this is one of the director's most personal movies, and worthy of far better than its laughingstock status.

This dark, almost nihilistic film is apparently the only one of Peckinpah's not to be interfered with by a studio or someone of similar standing. The result is exactly what its director intended, a gritty and slow-burning pseudo neo-noir that takes its time getting to the squib-squirting shootouts that Peckinpah is known for. The story is centred around a head: the head of Alfredo Garcia, to be exact. After he impregnates a gang boss' young daughter, the man finds himself on the wrong end of an assassination contract. That's where our protagonist comes in; Oates' dive-bar pianist knows someone who knows where Garcia is, so he sets out to make some quick cash but gets much more than he bargained for. Most of the first half of 'Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia (1974)' is dedicated to the relationship between the hero and his girlfriend, which is given the time it needs to feel real. It's the underlying heart of the narrative. After a certain point, the picture takes a sharp turn and becomes a lot more bloody. Its final third sees its protagonist try to justify his actions in increasingly dangerous ways, taking violent risks seemingly for no real reason. In the end, though, that's the point: none of it was worth it and any reasoning is futile. It's a bleak conclusion, for sure, but it makes for a stark and distinct experience. Once it gets properly underway, the piece is rather enjoyable in a pulpy sort of sense. It's compelling to see our hero go through his downward spiral and there's this looming feeling of dread that builds as the thing approaches its conclusion. It's a dark flick, but it's often entertaining and is held together by a decent central relationship. 7/10

BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA is Sam Peckinpah's most intimate and underrated film. I can think of few other films of this caliber that are as neglected or unsung.

A bizarre, sleazy film that has Peckinpah's signature trademarks - his romance with John Huston's TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE, loners, Mexico at it's grittiest, slow-motion violence.

When I saw it the first few times, the film seemed to wander aimlessly at various stretches and Peckinpah's direction felt tired to me. Even though Peckinpah can still lift you two inches off the ground with his action sequences, it doesn't have the kinetic impulse running thru it like THE WILD BUNCH, STRAW DOGS, THE GETAWAY or CROSS OF IRON.

Knowing now what I do about his career, I suspect the tiredness was authentic, due to his battles with studio executives and a self- destructive life. This knowledge and the ensuing years of experiencing the picture, have taken on added meaning and enriched it for me. Bennie the down and out piano player, memorably played by Peckinpah's Bogart, Warren Oates, is a wonderful alter ego for the director.

Starring Oates and Isela Vega and a strong supporting cast which includes Gig Young, Robert Webber and Emilio Fernandez. The excellent score is by Peckinpah's best composer, Jerry Fielding.

It may take several viewings but sit back and relish the sad poetry of an authentic film artist, Sam Peckinpah.

It kills me the way the user comments on the IMDb are so often flooded with basic storyline information and/or outright spoilers. (i.e., "Warren Oates plays Benny, a drunken blah blah blah.") Everybody wants to be the next Roger Ebert (though God knows why.) "Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia" is a title custom-designed to SAY ALL THAT NEEDS TO BE SAID. Tell me THAT title, tell me Warren Oates is in it, and I'm there. Granted, it's been a good 30 years, so some of the particulars of the story have leaked out. But read any other comments here, and you risk knowing more than you should the first time out with this one.

This movie flattened me. Desperation and flies, lots of flies. Yes, Peckinpah's films are violent. When I was a little kid in the early 70s, way before I was allowed to see movies like this, I knew of Peckinpah's reputation. Now I see that the violence herein is a total smokescreen, a sign of the times, a way to sell movie tickets. Human emotion is where these films are really at.

Peckinpah was Jim Thompson with a camera, and he told some great stories in a maverick style. Today's pre-fab, "hip" postmodern filmmakers are not worthy of a brutal, bizarre tale such as this. Sure, Kill Bill was a lot of fun - but the viewer hovers safely on the perimeter, like one flipping noncommittally (if enthusiastically) through the pages of a comic book. You will not be able to view Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia with such entertainment-value indifference. You'll be up all night typing (like me), or drinking, or doing whatever it is you do when your head is reeling from a true cathartic viewing experience.