There Was a Crooked Man… (1970)

A Western with a Wry Grin and a Bleak Heart

There Was a Crooked Man… (1970) is a unique and subversive entry in the Western genre, directed by the veteran filmmaker Joseph L. Mankiewicz in his final directorial effort. Written by Bonnie and Clyde scribes David Newman and Robert Benton, the film straddles the line between traditional Western iconography and the dark, ironic revisionism that defined the genre during the late 1960s and early '70s.

With its sardonic tone, morally murky characters, and a world in which law and outlawry are two sides of the same coin, There Was a Crooked Man… functions less as a standard Western and more as a satirical allegory about corruption, human nature, and the thin veneer of civilization. Anchored by the star power of Kirk Douglas and Henry Fonda, the film presents a world where virtue and vice are perpetually interchangeable, and justice—if it exists at all—is merely a mask for self-interest.

Plot Summary: The Prison as a Mirror

The story follows Paris Pitman Jr. (Kirk Douglas), a charming, amoral outlaw who, in the opening scene, double-crosses his gang and hides half a million dollars in loot inside a rattlesnake pit in the Arizona desert. After being caught and sentenced to prison, he quickly begins plotting an escape to reclaim the stolen money.

The prison is a dusty, brutal place filled with an eccentric assortment of inmates, from corrupt politicians to former aristocrats. Pitman navigates this world with cunning manipulation, steadily forming alliances and undermining authority. When the prison’s old, sadistic warden dies, he is replaced by Woodward W. Lopeman (Henry Fonda), a progressive and idealistic reformer who believes in rehabilitation and humane treatment.

As Pitman and Lopeman circle each other—one sly and self-serving, the other moralistic and reform-minded—the story evolves into a battle of philosophies and wits. However, as events unfold, the film peels back the layers of idealism to reveal that even the most well-intentioned figures are not immune to temptation.

The climax delivers a wry, cynical twist that undercuts any sense of heroism and leaves viewers questioning the very foundations of law, justice, and redemption.

Performances: A Duel of Styles

Kirk Douglas as Paris Pitman Jr.

Douglas has an absolute ball playing Pitman—a self-assured, magnetic, and wholly unrepentant rogue. This is a man who murders, lies, and betrays without hesitation, yet is so charismatic that we’re constantly tempted to root for him. Douglas plays the role with a gleam in his eye, his signature cleft-chinned bravado fully on display, reminding us of his ability to mix menace with charm. Pitman is not a tragic anti-hero; he’s a smirking sociopath in a society that rewards duplicity, and Douglas embraces the character's wickedness with flair.

Henry Fonda as Woodward Lopeman

Fonda, the quintessential figure of upright American virtue in films like The Grapes of Wrath and 12 Angry Men, is cast here as a moral reformer who begins with high ideals but faces disillusionment and corruption. His performance is more subdued than Douglas’s but just as effective—he plays Lopeman as a man trying desperately to inject decency into a system that doesn’t want it. His gradual shift from reformist to realist (or perhaps opportunist) is rendered with subtlety and quiet bitterness.

The chemistry between Fonda and Douglas is electric. Their characters never engage in violence but clash ideologically, making their scenes together some of the film’s most compelling.

Direction and Style: Mankiewicz’s Final Bow

Joseph L. Mankiewicz, known for literate dramas (All About Eve, The Barefoot Contessa) and character-driven storytelling, brings a theatrical intelligence to There Was a Crooked Man… Though his direction lacks the visual flair of contemporaries like Sam Peckinpah or Sergio Leone, his focus on dialogue, irony, and ensemble interaction gives the film a distinctive tone.

Mankiewicz does not romanticize the West. This isn’t a film about open plains and noble gunslingers—it’s about claustrophobic interiors, schemes, and the performance of civility. The prison setting becomes a microcosm of society, complete with caste systems, political jockeying, and quiet betrayals. His final directorial effort may not be his most famous, but it’s a fittingly cynical and intelligent capstone to a career built on moral ambiguity.

Themes and Interpretation

Morality vs. Expediency

The film constantly pits idealism against pragmatism, using the Western genre to explore the fragility of moral codes. Lopeman wants to believe in the redemptive power of justice, but he is ultimately outwitted and absorbed by the very cynicism he tries to reform. Pitman, for his part, has no illusions—he’s a product of a world that rewards cunning, and he plays the game without apology.

The Corruptibility of Institutions

There Was a Crooked Man… uses the prison as a metaphor for all societal institutions. Whether it’s the justice system, politics, or even religion (there's a preacher among the inmates), every structure is shown to be compromised, run by fallible men motivated by personal gain. Even reform, the film suggests, is just another way of bending the rules.

Satire of the Western Myth

The film is clearly a post-Bonnie and Clyde, post-Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid Western. The cowboys are crooks, the sheriffs are hypocrites, and loyalty is a fool’s game. The genre’s usual tropes—justice, freedom, frontier honour—are inverted or mocked. Even the title itself, borrowed from a nursery rhyme, suggests playful cynicism: a world already crooked, where no one comes out straight.

Supporting Cast: A Colourful Rogues’ Gallery

The supporting ensemble is one of the film’s delights. Burgess Meredith is a standout as a slippery fellow inmate, as is Hume Cronyn as a bumbling yet dangerous prisoner. Warren Oates, Martin Gabel, and John Randolph round out the cast with flavourful character work that reinforces the film’s vision of a world populated by scoundrels and opportunists.

Each inmate reflects a different kind of societal figure—corrupt bankers, shifty bureaucrats, old-time schemers—making the prison a satirical mirror of American life.

Visuals and Production

The film was shot in Arizona, and while it doesn’t emphasize sweeping landscapes, it uses the Western environment effectively to establish isolation and menace. The cinematography by Harry Stradling Jr. is competent, if not striking—this is a film more concerned with characters and dialogue than visual poetry.

The production design of the prison is particularly strong, creating a dusty, oppressive space that feels both historical and metaphorically charged. Lalo Schifrin’s score adds a touch of irony with jaunty, whimsical flourishes that undercut the darker moments.

Reception and Legacy

There Was a Crooked Man… was met with mixed reviews upon release. Critics appreciated the performances and sharp dialogue but were sometimes unsure of the film’s tone. Its blend of dark comedy, violence, and social commentary was a bit too subtle for audiences expecting a traditional Western or a rousing shootout drama.

However, in the years since, the film has gained a modest cult reputation as an underrated example of the revisionist Western—a smart, sly film that deconstructs genre expectations and delivers a bleakly funny portrait of human nature. Its cynical edge and thematic complexity make it an interesting counterpoint to other Westerns of the same era, like Little Big Man (1970) or McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971).

Conclusion: A Crooked Mirror to the American West

There Was a Crooked Man… is a darkly humorous and intellectually rich Western that both honours and dismantles the myths of frontier justice. With Kirk Douglas at his devilish best and Henry Fonda playing against type, the film thrives on the interplay between self-interest and self-righteousness, showing that in a crooked world, even the straightest man can bend.

Though not as widely remembered as it deserves, the film remains a compelling artifact of its era—part genre piece, part philosophical fable, and entirely skeptical of simple morality. In a genre that so often seeks redemption, this film offers only revelation: that the crooked road may just be the only road there is.

A wickedly smart and underappreciated revisionist Western, blending satire, superb performances, and a bleak sense of humour about the human condition.