A tough, sun bleached western from Martin Ritt, this is well served by fine performances and some tremendous cinematography from James Wong Howe.

John Russell (Newman) is a white man raised by the Apaches, who travels by stagecoach with a group of people whose lives aren't as simple as we first believe. Threatened by bandits, Russell unwillingly leads his fellow passengers towards safety. His moral code is sparse and unforgiving, but he is surrounded by others of a different persuasion, most notably Jessie, played by Diane Cilento. When the bandits hold a passengers wife hostage, Russell's moral code is challenged, and it's his unexpected attachment to Jessie that causes him to behave differently.

Newman and Cilento are excellent. Richard Boone is the perfect counter weight as Cicero Grimes, the principal bandit. Martin Balsam (stagecoach driver) and Frederic March (an Indian agent) make an impression too, as does Frank Silvera (Mexican bandit).

This is a vastly superior western. Superlative work from the stars and an intelligent script, added to the dusty Death Valley location work, create a tense, sparse western well worth watching.

Paul Newman sure could cut it in 1967. Not only did he give the performance of the year as Cool Hand Luke, but embodied the role of action antihero in this gritty, downbeat western as the laconic part-Apache John Russell, reluctant helper of assorted, sordid white people.

Russell has been living off the land with his Apache brethren when he is left a boarding house in a will. Russell sells the boarding house, which leaves its beautiful-but-weathered caretaker Jessie (Diane Cilento) on a long stage ride with Russell and a number of others with varied reasons for wanting to leave town. Unfortunately for everyone, one of them is a particularly ornery character named Cicero Grimes (Richard Boone).

"Hombre" is a coming-out party of sorts for writer Elmore Leonard; he had works adapted for screen before, most notably "3:10 To Yuma," but "Hombre" brings out the quotability and toughness we associate with Leonard today. Credit Newman and director Martin Ritt, as well as cinematographer James Wong Howe, for giving the film the space and terse energy it needs to deliver the action without underselling the human drama. Russell doesn't want to stick his neck out for people, and you don't blame him, yet you understand why he helps them in the end.

Screenwriters Harriet Frank and Irving Ravetch provide many memorable lines. A favorite, when a thief is being robbed at gunpoint: "It looks like you did good and we did better." But there's a tendency to overexposition, of people giving their life story at a drop of a hat. Everyone except Russell, who keeps it very cool throughout. Maybe it helps Newman look better.

"Takes a lot to light a fire under you, don't it?" Jessie asks him.

The story doesn't exactly hold together well upon reflection, and there are a number of what Hitchcock called "icebox scenes." One character walks around for days after being gutshot. Another is developed at length without having anything to do with the story except dying in it. But with "icebox scenes" you don't notice the incongruities until later. You are caught up with the energy and vitality, especially when things begin to happen in the second hour.

Newman is working Eastwood/McQueen territory here, and working it quite well. An important conflict in the film pits him against Dr. Favor (Fredric March), a self-righteous Indian agent who looks down on Russell for his American Indian roots despite the fact Favor has done well off the Apaches. When Favor's jaded wife (Barbara Rush) scoffs at the Apaches for eating dogs, Russell tells her if she was as hungry as they were, "you'd eat it. You'd fight for the bones, too." Newman doesn't raise his voice, doesn't even lean forward, but his burning blues make his anger palpable.

Rush's character is especially interesting, a reflection perhaps on the classic Leonard opportunistic female, or maybe even worse. I'm still not sure what she was playing at, but I enjoyed her character enormously. With Cilento, March, and especially Boone as well, you have performances that would provide engaging centers for other films, yet Newman towers over them without resorting to histrionics or even much in the way of humor (his wisecracks are few, however well-placed.)

"Hombre" is a near-classic Western that doesn't play by classic rules. But it makes its points well, keeps you involved, and allows you to relish one of Paul Newman's most indelible roles.

Martin Ritt first directed Paul Newman in "The Long, Hot Summer" in 1958. They continued working together over the next decade, notably on 1963's "Hud". Their final collaboration was 1967's revisionist western "Hombre". Newman plays a white man raised by the Apaches and forced into unenviable circumstances.

Unlike Arthur Penn's "Little Big Man", which was straightforward about its position with regards to a white man raised by the indigenous people,* "Hombre" presents the whole situation as a moral dilemma faced by the protagonist. All of it with some of the cleverest dialogue that I've ever heard in a movie. Newman has outstanding support from Fredric March, Richard Boone, Barbara Rush and Martin Balsam, and there's some great shots of the Arizona desert. I recommend it.

*Mind you, I do recommend "Little Big Man".