Norman Bartold | Through the Shattered Lens

“There’s no way to get hurt in here, just enjoy yourself.” — John Blane

Michael Crichton’s Westworld (1973) is a pioneering sci-fi thriller that uniquely melds futuristic technology with classic Western motifs to explore the dark side of immersive fantasy. The film is set in Delos, a high-tech amusement park divided into three themed worlds—Roman, Medieval, and Western—where guests can live out their fantasies with lifelike androids programmed to serve them. The story focuses on friends Peter Martin (Richard Benjamin) and John Blaine (James Brolin), who embark on a vacation to Westworld, only to find the androids malfunctioning with deadly consequences.

One of Westworld’s greatest strengths lies in its compelling premise. The concept of a theme park filled with near-human robots designed for guests’ amusement feels both visionary and deeply relevant even decades later. It touches on early concerns about the dangers of AI, the ethics of escapism, and how technology could spiral out of control. The film’s gradual shift from playful adventure to tense horror keeps the viewer engaged, illustrating how quickly paradise can turn into a nightmare. Yul Brynner’s portrayal of the robotic Gunslinger is especially memorable, embodying a calm yet unstoppable menace that has echoed through decades of genre cinema. His near-silent, mechanical stalking of the protagonists in the film’s thrilling climax defines the archetype of the relentless android assassin.

Technologically, Westworld was groundbreaking for its era. It featured some of the first uses of computer-generated imagery to simulate the Gunslinger’s “robot vision,” providing a novel and eerie perspective that laid the groundwork for the visual language of future sci-fi films. The movie’s restrained approach to horror and suspense—which leans heavily on atmosphere and tension rather than gore—remains effective. The juxtaposition of idyllic fantasy and mechanical terror gives Westworld a unique texture that feels both nostalgic and fresh.

However, the film is not without flaws. Its pacing is uneven—while the first half indulges in leisurely world-building and character interactions, it can feel slow and unfocused, weighing down the narrative momentum. The characters, particularly Peter and John, are somewhat archetypal and underdeveloped, serving more as audience surrogates than fully fleshed-out individuals. This limits emotional investment in their plight, which could have deepened the film’s impact. Some dialogue and scenes feel dated or clichéd, something Crichton himself acknowledged by deliberately shooting certain sequences as cinematic clichés to evoke a stylized old-movie atmosphere.

The tonal shift from lighthearted theme-park romp to suspenseful thriller, while intriguing, feels abrupt and uneven in spots. The horror elements emerge forcefully in the second half but are preceded by a comparatively slow start that may test some viewers’ patience. The film’s logic around the park’s safety and the androids’ malfunctioning is also inconsistent—what begins as programmed fantasy behavior suddenly becomes lethal with little explanation or foreshadowing. These plot holes can detract from the immersion if one is seeking tightly reasoned sci-fi.

World-building is another area where Westworld shows its age; the other park zones like Romanworld and Medievalworld are barely touched on, serving more as exotic backdrops than dynamic settings. The film lightly explores AI ethics and humanity’s hubris but refrains from delving deeply into philosophical questions, which later adaptations and works inspired by the film would expand upon more thoroughly. The 1970s social attitudes reflected in the cast and scenarios can also feel outmoded to modern sensibilities.

Despite these issues, Westworld remains a cult classic and a fascinating artifact of sci-fi cinema history. Its influence is enormous, seeding ideas that blossomed into franchises like The Terminator, Jurassic Park, and the HBO Westworld series. It stands as Michael Crichton’s directorial debut and an early example of a film grappling with human-machine interaction and the consequences of technological spectacle.

Westworld is a smart, ambitious blend of sci-fi, Western, and horror that captivates with its high-concept premise, pioneering visuals, and iconic villainy. While its uneven pacing, thin character development, and occasional logical gaps reveal its age, these flaws do little to diminish its charm and significance. For genre fans, it’s an essential watch—both as a suspenseful thriller and a creative blueprint for many modern tales of technology run amok. It’s a film that showcases the thrilling promise and lurking threat of immersive fantasy, wrapped in the dust and desolation of the Wild West.

a.k.a. Blood Legacy

In this 1971 film, John Carradine briefly plays Christopher Dean, a wealthy man who hated his family and his servants. He dies before the film actually begins but we do get to see him in flashbacks and we also hear his voice at the reading of his will. Dean leaves a fortune to his children and his servants, but he does so only on the condition that they spend a week at Dean’s estate. If anyone dies or leaves the estate, they will lose their inheritance and the money will be split amongst those who stayed and/or survived. You can see where this is leading, right?

This is actually a promising premise and it’s easy to imagine how it could have inspired an American version of Mario Bava’s Bay of Blood, where one person is killed by another just for that killer to then be killed by someone else until eventually, there’s no one left. Unfortunately, while the characters are all unpleasant and greedy, none of them are as memorable as anyone in Bava’s classic shocker. They’re all generic jerks and, as such, it’s hard to have much of a reaction when they start dying. The film does feature several familiar B-movie stars. Jeff Morrow and Faith Domergue (both of whom were in This Island Earth) appear as brother and sister. Richard Davalos (who played James Dean’s brother in East of Eden) has an eccentric role. Western character actor Rodolfo Acosta plays the sheriff who eventually takes an axe to the forehead. B-movie veteran Buck Kartalian plays Igor, the butler. (His name is actually Igor!) Some of the members of the cast were good actors but few of them are particularly good in this film. I did appreciate the weird energy of Buck Kartalian. John Carradine doesn’t do much but he does deliver his lines with the proper amount of contempt.

The film does have a few vaguely interesting kills. Bees are used as a weapon at one point. A head is found in a refrigerator and Richard Davlos says, “This is just like a horror movie.” Wow, Richard, thanks for sharing! There’s a big twist ending but it really not that impressive of a twist.

Probably the most interesting thing about Blood Legacy is that it’s essentially a remake of Andy Milligan’s The Ghastly Ones. (Director Carl Monson had a habit of ripping off other films. In 1973, he remade Roger Corman’s Little Shop of Horrors. Monson called his remake Please Don’t Eat My Mother. The film starred Buck Kartalian.) Blood Legacy was originally released under the title Legacy of Blood but Milligan was so annoyed at being ripped-off that he later made his own remake of The Ghastly Ones and decided to give it the same title as Carl Monson’s rip-off. Monson changed his film’s title and distributed it under the names Will To Die and Blood Legacy so that it wouldn’t be confused with Andy Milligan’s Legacy of Blood. It makes sense. Why would anyone want their Andy Milligan rip-off to be confused with an actual Andy Milligan film?