If anything, The Reivers plays better than ever. Partly this is due to the flawless transfer, but the movie, not a success when it was new and criminally underrated even now, is so wonderful in so many ways that if you've not yet experienced it you really should rush out and buy a copy this instant.

I'll bet at the end of the sixties Steve McQueen was probably deluged with offers to play cool cops, glamorous thieves, and ultra-hip soldiers in big-scale war movies. But after three successive hits - The Sand Pebbles (1966), The Thomas Crown Affair (1967), and Bullitt (1968) - McQueen instead made The Reivers (1969), about three friends getting into trouble in 1905 Mississippi. The image of Steve McQueen heartily singing "Camptown Races" ("Gwine to Run All Night, or De Camptown Races") in a paisley shirt and straw hat must have given his fans pause. The picture took in less than half of Bullitt's take, and despite McQueen's cult status, is practically forgotten today except by those who've seen it. Long-defunct distributor National General may partly be to blame; several other very good films distributed by them likewise fell into obscurity for a time. But The Reivers is a very fine picture, nearly a great film that was mainly a victim of bad timing.

In Jefferson, Mississippi, the townsfolk all turn out for the arrival of the hamlet's first automobile, an 18-horse-power, yellow Winton Flyer, purchased by patriarch "Boss" (Will Geer). Boon Hogganbeck (McQueen) and Ned (Rupert Crosse), respectively orphaned and abandoned at birth but adopted into Boss's family (black Ned, a descendent of slaves, claims an acknowledged bloodline to the family), become obsessed with the much-coveted car, fighting over use of the vehicle like quarreling children.

When most of the family leaves town for a funeral, Boon conspires against strict orders from Boss to "borrow" the Winton Flyer for a wild, sin-filled weekend in Memphis. To make his plan work he takes along young Lucius (Mitch Vogel), Boss's 11-year-old grandson. Ned stows aboard under a tarp in the back seat, and as the adult Lucius (Burgess Meredith, narrating the film like a memoir) notes, "The rewards of virtue are cold and odorless and tasteless and not to be compared to the bright and exciting pleasures of sin and wrongdoing!"

These sins include several nights in a whorehouse where Boon tries to bed prostitute-girlfriend Corrie (Sharon Farrell), and Ned's reckless business deal wherein he swaps the Winton Flyer for a highly questionable racehorse.

At times, The Reivers is quite magical. Though it teeters toward a freshly scrubbed Americana nostalgia, like Disneyland's Main Street, U.S.A., it's also filled with authentic little vignettes of great charm, obviously drawn from Faulkner's own childhood. An early scene, for instance, has the Winton Flyer hopelessly stuck in a stream of sticky mud, a trap deliberately maintained by an enterprising hillbilly (1970s film fixture Charles Tyner) who obscenely charges $6 to pull unfortunate vehicles out with his at-the-ready mule team. Similarly, the trio's awe at the "highway to Memphis," a dirt road with a long line of low-to-the-ground telephone poles but dotted with early 20th century marvels (including their first glimpse of a motorcycle) recalls a simpler era.

The picture's focus is how Lucius loses the innocence of childhood with an introduction all at once to the vices of man. He stares in prepubescent wonder at a life-size painting of a reclining nude woman, yet can't believe that Boon's warm-hearted girlfriend (who dotes on Lucius as if he were a younger brother) could possibly sell her body to a stranger. The conflict between the backwater but genteel sensibilities of his hometown and his simultaneous attraction and repulsion toward the world of grown-up city folk is the heart of the picture.

The Reivers also offers an enormously mature and forthright approach to race relations and racism. I suppose Faulkner would be considered politically incorrect by some today (Boon uses the word "nigger" referring to Ned but otherwise they're equally immature adults); yet the film also honestly shows the awkwardness of Lucius having out of necessity sharing a bed with an old black man (Juano Hernandez), whom Lucius is surprised to discover reminds him of his grandfather. Ultimately, The Reivers depicts instances of unsubtle racism through the eyes of the innocent Lucius, who never before had experienced such ugliness. It's genuinely sad that black audiences don't embrace it more.

While McQueen is fine, the standout performance comes from Rupert Crosse. Crosse's remarkable Ned is a deliriously breezy rascal, and deservedly he was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar that year. (He lost to another fine performance, Gig Young's in They Shoot Horses, Don't They?) The role should have propelled Crosse into the top ranks of his profession, but afterward he did only a few guest shots on shows like Bonanza and played second fiddle to Don Adams in a short-lived sitcom. He was scheduled to play Mullhull in The Last Detail, but withdrew when he discovered he had terminal cancer. He died in March 1973 at the age of 45.

Will Geer was only a few years away from playing Grandpa Walton (in The Waltons), and his popularity in that role has in some respects eclipsed his fine and varied work elsewhere, which in films ranged from a great Wyatt Earp in Winchester '73 (1950) to an effectively creepy "Old Man" in John Frankenheimer's Seconds (1968). Here, as Boss, Geer has one superb scene with Mitch Vogel, a child actor well above average, and Geer's gentle command of the scene is remarkable.

Two things seemed to work against the film's commercial success. Partly it was a question of timing, the old-fashioned, warm-hearted charms of The Reivers at odds with New Hollywood movies like Bonnie and Clyde and Easy Rider. Another possible reason for the picture's relative failure was the bizarrely selective prudishness of the MPAA. The Reivers was originally rated "M" (the early equivalent of "R") during the same period movies with far more violent and disturbing films (Planet of the Apes, The Andromeda Strain) were getting "G" ratings.

Yet despite content including a whorehouse, threats of violence, racism, and (perfectly innocent) skinny-dipping, The Reivers is resolutely a film for all ages. My nearly eight-year-old daughter was enthralled, even as much of its subtler humor (Boon trying to explain to Lucius what a cathouse is, for instance) went over her head.

Video & Audio

Paramount's 2005 DVD of The Reivers was excellent but their high-def transfer, licensed to Kino, is far superior to even that. Filmed in Panavision, with Rydell taking full advantage of the 2.35:1 screen shape, the image is essentially perfect, and a must in widescreen, with impressive sharpness, color, and contrast. The 2.0 DTS-HD Master Audio mix brings out John Williams's evocative early score nicely while there's a lot of directionality in the sound effects, much of it funneled to the surround speakers. No alternate language tracks or subtitle options and the disc is region A encoded. No Extra Features, either, a shame for such a fine film.

Parting Thoughts

In Steve McQueen's too-short starring career, The Reivers ranks near the top. It's a terrific film ripe for discovery. Highly Recommended.

Stuart Galbraith IV is the Kyoto-based film historian and publisher-editor of World Cinema Paradise. His new documentary and latest audio commentary, for the British Film Institute's Blu-ray of Rashomon, will be released this September.