‘American Outlaws’: Westward No!

Geoff Carter

Friday, Aug. 17, 2001 | 9:51 a.m.

American Outlaws

Grade: *

Starring: Colin Farrell, Scott Caan, Gabriel Macht and Timothy Dalton.

Screenplay: Roderick Taylor.

Director: Les Mayfield.

Rated: PG-13 for western violence.

Running time: 94 minutes.

"You got a movie tonight?" my friend Sarah asked. I told her I was going to see "American Outlaws."

"Is that a real movie, seriously?" she asked, brow furrowed. "The commercials kind of made it look like a 'Movie of the Week.' "

Funny, it looked that way from close range, too.

"American Outlaws" -- its title is likely intended to cash in on the brand recognition established by "American Beauty" and "American Pie" -- is as B as B gets. It is underacted by its leads, wastes good actors in nothing roles, is poorly scripted and is plagued by terrible sound-effects editing. It even makes botched use of Moby's "Find My Baby." I didn't think it was possible for a Moby tune to sound bad in a movie; his "Play" album is practically the deus ex machina of film scores.

Perhaps it's because "Outlaws" isn't a "real" movie, after all. It tells an overly familiar tale -- the rise of the James Gang, and their fight against the coming of the railroads -- with all the panache one can expect of the director of "Flubber" and the writer of a score of made-for-TV movies. Colin Farrell gamely attempts to infuse Jesse James with menace and allure, but he can't overcome a script that doles out lines like the following to its villains: "We'll teach these podunks what happens when they challenge the righteousness of progress."

The same script forces its protagonists say things like this: "Mah wife done run off with mah cousin! And they took mah dawg!"

Two actors manage to escape the wreck. One, Timothy Dalton, is a Royal Shakespearean and was James Bond besides; he coasts through his turn as famed detective Allan Pinkerton with scarcely a sideways glance. Watching a real actor stomp through this flimsy assemblage is a real blessing; you only wish Kathy Bates, Ronny Cox and Terry O'Quinn were allowed to do the same, but the film uses them only to make scene transitions or to speak unnecessary expository dialogue.

The other surviving actor is Gabriel Macht, as Frank James. It's not the first time he's emerged from a disaster: he starred in Jennifer Love Hewitt's unholy "Audrey Hepburn Story" with scarcely a mark on him. In "Outlaws," he hangs to the rear of the action, providing much-needed quiet gravity to the exploding idiocy all around him. When he gets a twinkle in his eye, it's a real twinkle; when he tries to be funny, he gets genuine laughs.

Sadly, Macht and Dalton have no scenes together. It would have been a right pleasure to see the two actors face off, pistols drawn, then holster their sidearms with a long sigh and march off into the sunset, in search of roles worthy of two real gunslingers.