I have two guns, one for each of ya.

Rating: 8/10 (12 March 2016)

Supposedly the original script of Tombstone had fully fleshed out lives and motives for even the smallest of secondary characters but which had to be cut for budgetary and time constraints. But in Fraker's dusty, deep focus shots of the bustling western town we get an inkling of this ideal anyway. The church sits in centre background like it did in My Darling Clementine, but here it is not a redemptive, restorative symbol and instead something to be burnt down and cursed. Townsfolk mill about in the distance, on foot and on horseback, and shootings erupt and cease fire like they are an everyday occurrence. There are those classical wide shots of posses riding furiously across the everlong plains, and those sunset silhouettes of caravan travel (that usual motif of the death of the west, the steam engine, not yet appearing). And who knows how long the crew had to wait to capture those shots of the red scarf billowing in the wind of the lightning storm in that frightful ambush?
What better to play over the closing credits then the best sequence of the film, where the four 'tall drink of waters' approach the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. They are dressed in black, and stride so confidently like the role of bringers of death that they have taken up, like undertakers ready to their duty (the thespian's description is rather apt). We know from their moustaches their history easily; Sam Elliot's iconic weathered one, grey with age and experience and good intentions (we react exactly as he does to a mother's scar). Paxton's thinner, younger one, who is most obviously the only of the brothers to not have killed a man. And Russell's whose is thick and in its prime, but reluctant and looking for a new life. Cosmatos (in reality Russell) takes his cues from Leone in the climatic build-up to the shoot-out.
But the best performance undoubtedly belongs to Val Kilmer's Doc Holliday, who is electric as the long-time friend of Wyatt Earp. His tuberculosis does not hinder him; it in fact makes his sweaty face and his steady drawl even more menacing along with his eyes that seem alive in contrast. His gaze is steely and his wit unmatched - we cheer along with the bar's patrons when he mocks Ringo's quick-fast skills with the pistol with his drinking cup. And we know exactly where his loyalties and intentions lie when he fiercely objects to Wyatt's claim that he has no business here: he has not many friends, but once gaining that title it is for life.
There's a curious element that goes mostly unexplored here. These men are more concerned with gambling and money and guns than they are with the arts - Cowboys shooting at a stage performance manages to be comedic and frightening at the same time. And in a symbolic blow, Mr Fabian falls later to more fatal shots, but Josephine is hurriedly moves on to the next arc of her life. Not even the gorgeous Dana Delany and her little shake of the head as she proclaims upon seeing Wyatt for the first time "I want one" can really save this subplot from veering into Hollywood clichÃ©; it seems a little too coincidental for them to bump into each for a flirtatious horse ride and picnic, and the ending is too cheesy on the backdrop of such dramatic events (the director's cut ties up some loose ends, including the fates of Big Nose Kate and Mattie Blaylock). And some of the action sequence are a little sloppy and rushed - the river's end for Curly Bill, and the montages of the posse finishing off the Cowboys. But of course right on cue, the credits remind us how good it is at its best.