The Mountain Men

Synopsis: A pair of grizzled frontiersmen fight Indians, guzzle liquor, and steal squaws in their search for a legendary valley 'so full of beaver that they jump right into your traps' in this fanciful adventure.
Director(s): Richard Lang
Production: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
 
IMDB:
6.4
Rotten Tomatoes:
43%
R
Year:
1980
102 min
814 Views


Hold on, hold on!

It's Frapp, for Christ's sake!

You damn fool!

You could have killed my horse!

What's wrong with you, huh?

Don't you wanna have fun no more?

Too old for this, I reckon.

- Damn you, Henry Frapp!

- Oh, sh*t. Damn.

I thought you lost your hair

down in the Bayou Sallot.

Hell, no! I aim to keep my scalp a while.

Looks like you been trapping.

Where you been?

Absaroka, Yellowstone. Where you up from?

Been back in the settlements.

I just come from St Louis.

- See any sign?

- Heap.

Whole war party, Blackfoot,

working right hereabouts.

No, they're Crow.

I seen the moccasin tracks.

They've been trying to steal my horses

for a week.

Them are Blackfoot.

Crow, I reckon.

Blackfoot! I can read sign, God damn it!

- What's beaver in St Louis?

- $5.

$5?

Be a cold day in hell

before I sell my plews for $5.

- How about in Taos?

- Same thing.

Where the hell you been?

Don't you go to rendezvous no more?

Not for a couple of winters now.

- You heading there?

- You damn right!

I got to get some whisky.

If I don't get some whisky soon,

I'm gonna die!

Hell.

I've a mind to rendezvous myself,

if you don't mind the company.

Glad to have you.

I need somebody who can shoot centre...

...in case we got to fight them Blackfoot.

- Crow!

- Blackfoot, God damn it!

- Got any baccy?

- I guess so.

- Give us a chaw.

- Yeah.

No hard feelings, old coon? Oh, sh*t!

Nary a one.

Son of a b*tch!

Buffalo on the Platte?

Mighty thin.

Goddamn Pawnees been

shooting them again for the hides...

...leaving the meat out

there to rot in the sun.

What's old Bridger doing?

I heard he was in Santa Fe,

bushwaying for a bunch of greasers.

Mr Frapp! Whoa!

- My God, Mr Frapp!

- Where you been, a**hole?

I made the assumption

you had gone downstream.

You assumpted? Well, don't do

no more goddamn assumpting.

- I thought you got lost again.

- Haven't you ever been lost?

Fearsome confused for a month or two,

but I ain't never been lost.

This here's Bill Tyler.

You gonna shoot me with your ramrod?

Now, that's Nat Wyeth from Massachusetts.

Says he's a ice merchant.

Ice?

Got to take him to the rendezvous.

I'm travelling to Oregon, Mr Tyler.

I have a plan to send

salmon east in barrels.

Salmon?

Well, let's get to the rendezvous.

I got a powerful dry on.

How you gonna get them barrels

over the Rockies?

- Wagons, Mr Tyler.

- Wagons? You can't get wagons over...

I'm joining a train of immigrants

at the rendezvous.

Immigrants, huh?

Lmmigrants! Lmmigrants!

It's the promised land, Mr Tyler.

What in the hell would

anyone want to go to Oregon for?

To trade, to build...

...to till the soil, to farm the land.

You can't farm nothing in Oregon.

Won't nothing grow there.

I could've told you that.

But he won't listen to me.

Mark my word, Mr Tyler,

one day there'll be a wagon road...

- ... all the way from St Louis to Oregon.

- Oh, bullshit!

It's a new empire, virgin and untrammelled.

- Hey, Henry, give us another chaw, will you?

- It's a land of...

- Jesus.

... limitless opportunity.

- Sh*t!

- What's wrong?

What's wrong?

You can see what's wrong, can't you?

Well, I don't see anything.

- Well, you don't see it 'cause it ain't there.

- What ain't there?

The goddamn rendezvous ain't there,

God damn it!

- What's it say?

- How do I know what it says? You read this.

"Come on to Popo Agie.

Plenty whisky and white women."

Popo Agie? That can't be.

The hell you say.

They got white women, ain't they?

Hell and gone the other side of the Divide!

Well, you don't expect them...

...to go dragging them white women

all the way across the Rockies, do you?

Traders been coming to the mountains

for rendezvous for 10 years.

Now they got white women,

they won't leave the prairie. Sh*t.

Before long, they'll have us

packing our plews clean back to St Louis.

Listen, what do you plan to do

about them Blackfoot...

...that's been following us all day long?

- Crow.

- Blackfoot, God damn it!

I know Blackfoot.

I can smell them a mile off.

Well, you don't know hog jowls

from horseshit, 'cause they're Crow.

They won't bother us none.

However, keep an eye on the horses.

Crow ain't so bad.

I spent a couple of winters with them

in the Absaroka.

You trust their honour,

you'll be safe enough.

You trust their honesty,

you're gonna lose your long johns, too.

Hey, Henry!

I hear you got into the money end

of this miserable business.

Yeah. I packed in supplies from St Louis...

...watered down the whisky,

jacked up the prices...

...and went to trading for beaver.

- Yeah? What happened?

- Lost my ass.

Turned around

and sold everything to Fontenelle.

Well, beaver will shine again.

Look at these here plews of mine.

It took you two years

to get them, too, didn't it?

I mind the time you get

that many beaver in one fall hunt.

And wait till you see

what Fontenelle's gonna give you for them...

...when you get to the rendezvous.

Well, damn Fontenelle!

I'm a free trapper, by God.

I trade my plews

to the highest bidder, cash money.

Well, then you're sh*t out of luck, son...

...'cause Fontenelle's the only bidder

you got this year.

Stand clear!

What was that?

- What was what?

- I heard something.

You've been hearing something

all the way from Missouri.

- You hear something, Tyler?

- I told you.

Shut up! Hear that?

I'm telling you, there

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Fraser C. Heston

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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