Ralph Nelson’s ultraviolent revisionist western Soldier Blue is a fascinating example of historical binocular vision. On the one hand, the 1970 film purports to be an account (albeit slightly fictionalized) of the wholesale slaughter of around 150 men, women, and children belonging to the Cheyenne tribe by members of the U.S. Cavalry at Sand Creek, Colorado, in 1864. On the other, it’s an obvious metaphor for the Vietnam War, making specific reference to the 1968 massacre at My Lai. By rhyming these two appalling events, the film seems to despair at the fact that history, written in the blood of the innocent, keeps on repeating itself.
Soldier Blue is, in fact, bookended by scenes of carnage. The opening attack on a payroll wagon by the Cheyenne sets up the rest of the film by introducing us to its mismatched pair of survivors, Honus Gant (Peter Strauss) and Cresta Lee (Candice Bergen). Honus is a painfully naïve private who believes all the propaganda he’s been fed by the Army. Blunt, profane Cresta has lived among the Cheyenne, and knows their attack was to get money to buy guns, so they can attempt to protect themselves from forces already set in motion that will lead irrevocably to the second, far greater carnage. The film thus aligns with a small subset of westerns like Samuel Fuller’s Run of the Arrow that make a sincere effort to portray (and empathize with) Native American cultures.
The film’s midsection unexpectedly morphs into a saga of wilderness survival, with a hint of burgeoning romance, and leavened by flashes of off-kilter comedy. This comprises a radical shift in tone from the first act. But it works quite well to firmly establish our interest, if not exactly our identification, with these characters as they are exposed to the elements and face the Native Americans, as well as the depredations of duplicitous gunrunner Isaac Q. Cumber (Donald Pleasance). More importantly, these events serve as a decidedly unsentimental education for Honus, who slowly sheds layers of presumption and disinformation.
The balance of power between Honus and Cresta represents a nifty tweak to gender stereotypes, and not just within the western genre, as the woman possesses all the savoir faire and the man is relegated to playing second fiddle. Honus’s insistence on keeping protocol and “doing the right thing” only leads them further into danger. This is never more apparent than in their encounter with Cumber. Cresta knows him, and sympathizes with his cause, if not necessarily with his mercenary means. For his part, Honus insists on preventing Cumber’s dealing arms to the Cheyenne at all costs. As a result, Honus is gravely wounded by Cumber, and only Cresta’s knowledge of Native American ways can save his life.
When they arrive at the aptly named Fort Reunion, they find the chief officer, Colonel Iverson (John Anderson), to be an overweening racist single-mindedly intent on gaining military glory through native extermination. The figure plays like a tinhorn stand-in for General Custer, name-dropped earlier in the film, and who figured in Arthur Penn’s similarly revisionist Little Big Man that same year. When the cavalry reaches the Cheyenne encampment, Iverson has his cannon fire on the approaching delegation, despite the fact that they’re flying the white flag of peace, a shameful bit of military misconduct apparently lifted from the historical record.
The ensuing massacre has been accused of exploitation, of slaughter for slaughter’s sake, but Nelson and editor Alex Beaton never linger gratuitously on an act of savagery. And anyone even cursorily familiar with either the Sand Creek or My Lai massacre knows that what we see here is only the tip of the atrocity iceberg. What’s most disturbing is the gleeful, almost childlike comportment of the soldiers as they frolic about, waving around severed limbs and heads on spikes. This is the heart of an all-too-human darkness. With its final tracking shot across a graveyard of newly erected crosses, Soldier Blue stands as a ghastly gloss on James Joyce’s famous line: “History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.”
Image/Sound
Kino gives Soldier Blue a sparkling 1080p HD presentation. The image is crisp and bright, skin tones warm and lifelike, colors vivid and deeply saturated. Robert B. Hauser’s skilled cinematography makes the most of the 2.35:1 Scope frame, whether capturing masses of cavalrymen on the march, scenes of brutal close-range combat, or the wild vistas of Mexico that stand in for Colorado. The Master Audio two-channel mono mix is sturdy enough, but it sometimes buries the dialogue under composer Roy Budd’s rambunctious score.
Extras
The major supplement here is another enthusiastic, often amusing, always informative commentary track from film historians Howard S. Berger and Steve Mitchell. The dynamic duo thoroughly cover the film’s production, release history, and critical reception. They astutely address the most frequently leveled critical complaints. There’s a deep dive into the careers of director Ralph Nelson, screenwriter John Gay, cinematographer Robert B. Hauser, and composer Roy Budd. And Berger and Mitchell also relay some intriguing (albeit disturbing) information about an early, extended cut of the film that contained a harrowing twenty minutes more of the climactic massacre sequence.
Overall
Making a sturdy premiere on Region A Blu-ray, Ralph Nelson’s rancorous revisionist western forces us to peer into the heart of an all-too-human darkness.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.