the assassination of jesse james by the coward robert ford

A film about the life of notorious outlaw Jesse James would oblige noisy train robberies and all the folksy bravado of the gun-slinging Western genre. But director Andrew Dominik's film The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford chronicles the end, not the height, of the desperado's career. And such a story of death and betrayal requires a campfire telling-a long, drawn-out cinematic whisper that is unnerving behind its smoky silver screen.

Cinematographer Roger A. Deakins (A Beautiful Mind, Jarhead) weaves one dreamy shot into the other, pulling focus with each descent into narration. Every now and then, the visual poetics are suspended by a fit of dialogue or gunshot; but the stark violence halts, and the haunting score spurs methodically onward.

Only a small sampling of films has managed to summon the sensory as a means of storytelling (the most recent that comes to mind is Terrence Malick's woodsy reverie New World). In these movies, the sounds linger, the dialogue is deliberate, the surroundings seem almost ethereal. Jesse James (Brad Pitt) cuts a hazy, black figure against the western panorama, his entourage lurking on the sides as blanched ghouls.

Pitt assumes the infamous role with easy charisma, while still managing to impart the vibrations of insane ruthlessness. Wielding a roughened pretty-boy visage, Pitt's nuanced performance makes it easy to accept why history-so familiar with the robberies and murders of this 19th century gangster-nevertheless, revered him as a hero.

But Dominik's fable centers not on James, but on Robert Ford (Casey Affleck)-a 19-year-old would-be bandit with a treasure box of Jesse James collectibles. At the outset of the film, Ford has the honor of tagging along on a legendary James' brothers train robbery. Ford makes every sycophantic effort to ingratiate himself to the youngest James. But obsession turns to steady reproach and ultimately ambition. Affleck's bashful boyishness is a perfect fit for Ford, the eager, young pup whose ironic legacy is cowardice.

The film is at once too pristine to fit in with the standard western grime, yet at the same time, made genuine by its lonesome tenor and spells of cool violence. A talented supporting cast of conspiring outlaws (Sam Rockwell, Jeremy Renner, Paul Schneider) add to the film's refined authenticity, allowing Dominik's perfected dialogue to function in spite of his too-frequent narrative exposition.

If the title isn't indication enough of Dominik's affection for detail, the two hour and 40-minute run time will make sure of it. But even if Dominik is attentive to the point of overindulgence-the film is about five epilogues too long-it's this attention that adds dimension and humanity to legend.