The sheriff of this small Texas border town is the grim and determined Jack Benteen (Nick Nolte). Nick wears his shirts buttoned to the neck, despite the heat, and is decked out in a white, flat-brimmed cowboy hat. The setting is modern -- well, as modern as a Texas border town gets -- and drugs are being smuggled across the border. Nick's trying to stop it but he's getting no help from Washington. His chief adversary in this conflict is Cash Bailey, played by Powers Boothe in a dusty old white suit and another white cowboy hat. I have to pause long enough to applaud those characters' names -- Jack Benteen and Cash Bailey. I don't know why, but I love them. "Jack" -- plain and solid American. "Cash" -- flighty and self indulgent. And "Benteen", a major involved in the Battle of the Little Big Horn, while "Bailey" is a perversion of Jimmy Stewart's name in the best-known and most endearingly heart-warming Christmas movie ever made. Anyhow, Nick and Powers used to be buddies but are now on opposite sides of the law.<br /><br />On top of that, there is Maria Conchita Alonzo, a Cuban singer who here plays a Mexican singer who can't quite make up her mind which of these two gun-packing hombres she's more attracted to. The perfidious witch switches from Nick because, as she puts it, she wants to know "where we go from here" after a five-year-long love affair. Now, whether Nick can interpret this or not, what she means is that she wants to get married and "build a home." Nick is determined to stride into the middle of Powers' desert fortress in a small town across the border, put an end to his scurrilous and illegal activities, and retrieve Alonzo in the bargain. I won't spend much time on the plot.<br /><br />The astute viewer will notice that -- yes, it's true -- this is a Peckinpoid movie. It's a kind of combination of "The Wild Bunch" and "Getaway", directed by Sam Pekinpah. All the signature artifacts and ideas are there. Lots of dusty old cars caroming along unpaved roads, bottles of tequila passed back and forth, political corruption, the slow-motion impact of bullets, the hyperglandular machismo, the in-group treachery, the sexy woman who can't be trusted, Mexico as the last frontier, and guns. Lots of guns. The climax of "The Wild Bunch" had a .30 caliber machine gun spraying lead through a crowd and killing millions. "Extreme Prejudice" has a DUAL MOUNT of .30 caliber machine guns spraying lead through a crowd. Double your bullets, double your fun.<br /><br />It was written by John Milius, a gun enthusiast himself. On one of his films, he had it written into his contract that he would be the hunter who actually shot the animals for the film. On another TV production that he wrote, he had Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders atop San Juan Hill in Cuba, spraying the enemy, and shouting quotes from Henry V's pep talk in Shakespeare's play.<br /><br />I kind of like these movies of hot, dusty Texas towns with bank robbers and smugglers and bouncing vehicles though. There are several of them floating around. The photography and location shooting are usually pretty good, as they are here. But this one involves so much pandering to one's taste for violence that it leaves a sour taste. For instance, there is a paramilitary group of DEA agents supposedly in it to help Nick do his job. Actually, their leader (Michael Ironside) is corrupt and intends to steal the dope money. Mainly, these extra half-dozen raggedy killers are there to raise the body count at the cathartic mass slaughter. They don't do anything else of import.<br /><br />The only performance I really felt came across was Powers Boothe's. He effectively combines an easy-going, relaxed, aw-shucks, genial Texan sensibility with an iron core of greedy terpitude. After he shoots a Mexican subordinate unexpectedly through the forehead (big joke), he comes up with something like, "Oh, heck, ya pay a governor enough around here and ya can shoot anybody ya like. Now clean up this mess. Nothing' for a lady to see." It's diverting fun but it lacks entirely any of the poetry that Sam Pekinpah might have brought to it while he was still functioning adequately. There's never a pause for reflection or reality intrusions. Every line, every action, seems designed to propel the plot forward, as if the viewer might be bored if the story took a closer look at the everyday lives of its characters. Fun, yes, but condescending fun.