McLintock!

Synopsis: George Washington McLintock, "GW" to friends and foes alike, is a cattle baron and the richest man in the territory. He anxiously awaits the return of his daughter Becky who has been away at school for the last two years. He's also surprised to see that his wife Katherine has also returned. She had left him some years before without really explaining what he done but she does make the point of saying that she's returned to take their daughter back to the State Capitol with her. GW is highly respected by everyone around him including the farmers who are pouring into the territories with free grants of land and the Indians who are under threat of being relocated to another reservation. Between his wife, his headstrong daughter, the crooked land agent and the thieving government Indian agent, GW tries to keep the peace and do what is best for everyone.
Director(s): Andrew V. McLaglen
Production: United Artists
  2 wins.
 
IMDB:
7.3
Rotten Tomatoes:
60%
APPROVED
Year:
1963
127 min
4,084 Views


Lord to goodness, not again.

- Howdy, Drago.

- Morning, Curly.

Makes seven times this month

he come home swaggled.

- Only six.

- Seven.

Six. Once was his birthday, that don't count.

Give me my buggy whip.

Didn't have anything for breakfast

but two raw eggs and a mug of honey.

- No.

- Curly.

Yes, Boss?

Don't say it's a fine morning,

or I'll shoot you.

Get out of here, Bunyan.

- Good morning.

- Morning.

Carlos, what are you doing up there?

I hope I get it this time, Mr. McLintock.

My brothers, they got the big hats already.

All right, let them have at it.

Get over.

Ain't you gonna let me drive?

You promised me you would sometime.

No.

Boss, you better watch that turn

on the road!

You're gonna kill both of us

one of these days.

Thank you, Mr. Boss!

You got cattle in the back, Boss.

Give it up.

Keep them going.

Fifteen cents a pound,

all the way to Kansas City.

Now, Boss, there's one old pensioner

I wished you'd pass up.

- Bunny?

- Yeah.

- Wish I knew where I'd seen his face before.

- He ain't an old-timer...

he's just been around town

a couple of years.

You have no milk of human kindness.

Morning, Mr. McLintock.

- Morning, Bunny.

- Well, I can see you're in good health.

Never felt better,

contrary to what you may hear.

Me, my kidneys ain't what they used to be...

- and my liver's being leaving me bilious.

- Drago.

- Hello, Ben.

- Hey, McLintock.

- Drago, throw that in the buggy.

- Yes, sir.

- That's a scrubby bunch of sooners.

- They are, at that.

That ought to make Douglas happy.

Lining his pockets with land fees.

What are we gonna do?

I don't know what you're gonna do, Ben.

Me, I do nothing.

Two hundred families,

a quarter of beef a week for a family.

If they last two years,

that can be a sizeable number.

I've got 20 head to...

one of any other brand on the Mesa Verde.

I'm not hollering.

Some of us haven't got all the money

in the world...

and some of us ain't old and tired,

and feel like being put upon.

You interest me, Young Ben. Go on.

So the first time I find one of our hides

wearing our brand...

hung on one of them settlers' fences,

I aim to kill me a plowboy.

You do what you want, McLintock.

We'll do what we want.

Fellows my age generally call me G.W.

Or McLintock.

Youngsters call me Mr. McLintock.

All right, Mr. McLintock.

Not because I'm afraid of you.

You're the big he-stud of this country...

and I reckon a fellow my age

should call you mister.

He's full grown now, G.W.

He's a half owner of this spread.

I made him a full partner

the day the doc gave me the long face.

Well, you want him to vote the first time

this territory becomes a state, don't you?

Of course I do.

If these settlers get burned out,

there'll be a lot of hollering...

that this country's too wild to be a state.

We'll go on being a territory some more...

with a lot of political appointees running it...

according to what they learned

in some college...

where they think

that cows are something you milk...

and Indians are something

in front of a cigar store.

I'm looking to you to hold Young Ben down.

I'll do what I can.

Come on over to the house once in a while,

we'll rack up a few hands of stud.

G. W., that'd be just fine.

It's a nice morning, ain't it, Boss?

Everybody's entitled to their own opinion.

Like that again?

Here's something that'll cheer you up.

About 1,000 head,

I figure they'll bring about $12.50.

They're not as fat as I'd like to ship.

- They all off the North Range?

- Yes, sir.

Settlers. Every one of them with a plow

and a Bible...

and not the slightest idea

what the range is for.

Drago!

- Drag out that hogleg.

- Yes, sir.

Get me some attention.

People, people!

Come on, all of you. Gather round.

People, come on. Gather round.

I'm McLintock.

You people plan to homestead

and farm the Mesa Verde.

Yes, sir.

The government give us each 160 acres.

The government

never gave anybody anything.

Some years back, a lot like you came in.

They had a pretty good first year.

Good summer, easy winter.

But the next year,

the last rain was in February...

and by June, even the jack rabbits

had sense enough to get off the Mesa.

Folks, do you know who that is?

That's McLintock.

George Washington McLintock.

I told them that, Douglas.

He controls the water rights

on 200 square miles of range.

You know that lumber you got?

It came from his land...

cut by his loggers and milled in his mills.

Douglas, I come close to killing you

a couple of times when we were younger.

Saddens me I didn't.

Can you imagine a man who owns all that...

and mines, too, I forgot to mention them.

All that, and he's begrudging poor people...

a measly 160 acres.

That right, Mr. McLintock?

- You begrudge us a little free land?

- There's no such thing as free land.

If you make these homesteads go,

you'll have earned every acre of it.

But you just can't make them go

on the Mesa Verde.

God made that country for buffalo.

Serves pretty well for cattle...

but it hates the plow.

And even the government should know...

that you can't farm

6,000 feet above sea level.

- Any trouble, Mr. McLintock?

- No trouble, Jeff.

- How about you, Douglas?

- Douglas?

Just plain Douglas?

And you call him Mr. McLintock.

Why?

Well, Douglas,

I guess it's because he earned it.

- Mr. McLintock?

- Yeah.

I'm a good hand with cattle, Mr. McLintock.

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James Edward Grant

James Edward Grant (July 2, 1905 – February 19, 1966) was an American short story writer and screenwriter who contributed to more than fifty films between 1935 and 1971. He collaborated with John Wayne on twelve projects, starting with Angel and the Badman (which he also directed) in 1947 through Circus World in 1964. Support Your Local Gunfighter was released in 1971, five years after his death. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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