WILD BILL, as in Wild Bill Hickok (1837-1876), in the 1995 retelling of the legendary frontier pistolero’s assorted lethal exploits by action ace Walter Hill, who wrote & directed this 97-minute western starring Jeff Bridges. Of the many movie & TV impersonations of the man, Bridges bids fair to be the most believably ballsy of the buckaroo whose last grip was not on one of his Colt revolvers but history’s most infamous hand of poker. Knowing what western fans eat up, Hill delivers mythic history via rough-hewn characters, salty dialogue and enough gunfights for a manual on the subject.

“Is this your college education that makes you dribble on so?”

Flashing back from Hickok’s funeral, admirer, counselor and drinking buddy ‘Charlie Prince’ (John Hurt) narrates episodes in Wild Bill’s bullet-filled life before his arrival in (and eventual departure from) the raucous Dakota Territory boomtown of Deadwood. Among Bill’s friends (his enemies have a habit of dying by fast-acting lead poisoning) is rowdy gal pal and freely available playmate Calamity Jane. Bill doesn’t look for trouble, but, as numerous Boot Hills prove, he doesn’t shy from confronting it.

CALIFORNIA JOE: “Bill waded into this mob of drunks, sharps, whores, gold panners, mental deficients, liquored soldiers, all of ’em friends of the great Texas gunfighter, Phil…”  BILL: “Phil Coe. Another one of them bullshit Texans. Never much liked any of ’em. Mean sons of bitches, usually cheat at cards, never take a bath.”

Atmosphere galore, with enough exciting showdowns for four shoot ’em ups. Bridges take-no-bull, force of nature hero is backed and/or attacked by a superbly picked gallery of supporting players. In vivid vignettes Hill places genre vets Keith Carradine (as Buffalo Bill Cody), Bruce Dern (ornery), James Gammon ( full bullfrog as California Joe Miller), James Remar (dog mean). In larger parts he gets fine turns from Ellen Barkin (game for whatever as Calamity Jane), David Arquette (as weasel backshooter Jack McCall), Diane Lane (as ever, to die for, or in this case, over), Christina Applegate (smokin’ bargirl), Marjoe Gortner (on fire as a holy roller), Karen Huie (have opium pipe, will travel), Lee de Broux and Stoney Jackson. In the mix, look hard for Linda Harrison and Burt Gilliam.

Apart from stray posses of die-hard western fans, precious few pilgrims showed up at the O.K. Theater, and the expertly crafted shoutout to the past was gunned down in cold blood at the box office: a trickling $2,194,000 ranked 174th in ’95, a crushing fate for a $30,000,000 venture.

* Hill, on the script as based on “character rather than incident. Because I think it’s not so much the fights, it’s his personality, his sense of humor about himself. He seemed to understand his own legend. He both fueled it and was a prisoner of it, that it was his raison d’etre, and at the same time he felt himself very constrained by it.”

“You’d best hand over your gun, Phil. Otherwise I’m just gonna have to step over there and slap you around some.”