Showing posts with label Westerns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Westerns. Show all posts

Monday, January 08, 2007

Shane (1953)

Directed by George Stevens. Starring Alan Ladd, Van Heflin, Jean Arthur, Brandon de Wilde.


SPOILER ALERT


Story


Shane rides into the Starret homestead, heading north. The purpose of this journey, if such there be, is not revealed. Joe Starrett is suspicious of what is obviously a gunman, especially when Ryker, the local big rancher simultaneously arrives with yet another demand that Starrett and the other homesteaders get out. It becomes clear that Ryker is conducting a campaign of harassment against the squatters in order to maintain the open range for his cattle.

When it becomes clear that Shane is not involved, he and Starrett become friends and this is symbolised by their joint effort to uproot a tree-stump, the scene portentously shot, edited and scored for maximum emotional impact. It's clear also that Starrett's wife, Marion, is drawn to the handsome, soft-spoken but dangerous stranger; and that their son, Joey, from whose point of view much of the drama is seen, already hero-worships him.

Shane interrupts his journey, takes off his gun and sets to work for Starrett. When Ryker loses patience and hires the black-clad, snake -like killer, Wilson, to root out the settlers at whatever cost, the crisis comes to a head. One of the farmers is murdered, 'legally', and Ryker hatches a plot to kill Starrett, a natural community leader, at a 'peace conference'. Shane intervenes and in a fight shot to parallel the earlier stump-pulling prevents the other man from attending the meeting.

He challenges Wilson in professional style and kills him, as well as Ryker. Joey, as ever observing, watches Shane re-holster with a memorable flourish, a flashy hint of pride in a job well done, then shouts out a warning that Ryker's brother has the drop on him. Shane is wounded but still kills the other man.

Then, following a little moral lecture to Joey, he rides away, heedless of the boy's pleas: 'Shane, come back . . .I love you . . .Mother loves you!'

Style

With Shane George Stevens wanted, it seems, to take a routine story and present it with fresh depth, with a combination of realism and cinematic beauty. In telling it through the eyes of a child he can merge reality into legend.

The film is set in a valley, not just beautiful but obviously fertile, the kind of place for which men would kill and die, but the small town in it and the the settlers' homes are makeshift at best, squalid at worst.

Stevens emphasises the terrifying loudness of Shane's initial display of gunfire and the brutality of Stonewall's death in a muddy street, but he also achieves the effect of Wilson's effortless and graceful mounting of his horse by running backwards film of him dismounting. The deer's antlers' framing of Shane when he first rides in is well-known, but Stevens uses the same trick when Stonewall storms out through the saloon door, smashing a hole through which we see Ryker, his brother and Wilson, silent and malevolent.

Such things draw attention to themselves and are, to my mind, a flaw to which Stevens was prone.

Themes

For all that the film ends withe defeat and the death of 'bad guys', we nonetheless leave it with a feeling of melancholy. The victory of the settlers is tempered by the departure of their glamorous champion, the fracture of a family and the passing of an heroic way of life.

The friendship of Starrett and Shane is close. Forget homosexuality, but watch their shared pleasure in uprooting the stump together and taking on a bunch of cowboys in the saloon. Starrett is a man shackled to the treadmill of his farm, with just a woman and boy for company. His other acquaintances are a group of timorous neighbours, who have no strength but what he gives them. Only Shane shares his resolution, but complements his stolidity with style and deadly skill.

But it is a doomed friendship. One is a settler, one a wanderer. And there is Marion. Their last meeting is a vicious fight for the right to face Ryker and Wilson. Shane's motive is to save Starrett's life, for the sake of Marion; Joe's to prove himself a man in her eyes. Shane, fighting unfairly for once, uses his gun to knock out his opponent before taking his gun, with obvious phallic symbolism.

Marion's contentment with life is shattered. From now on, she will know that there is a man she prefers to her husband, and whom she has now lost forever. Moreover she has blurted out her frustration with the grinding toil of her daily life. If that has improved, now that Ryker is dead, that improved has been achieved by the use of guns, something she has opposed. She knows too that Joey's fascination with guns has been reinforced by the role model of Shane.

Joey has lost his surrogate father and senses the estrangement between his parents.

Ryker is no typical villain. He is even given the opportunity to put his case, the case of all conservatives who see a world they love passing. His methods are violent, but not murderous at first. In turning to Wilson, he is betraying what moral code he has. Compare him with Ben Johnson's Calloway, a bullying cowboy eventually repelled by the murder of Stonewall.

Ryker is proud of opening up the territory, defeating Indians and rustlers and imposing his own law for want of any other. Now he sees all he has done is clear the way for others with alien values. Not only is official law approaching, with a marshal a hundred miles away, but it is brought to his doorstep by 'squatters' bearing bits of legal paper.

Shane is like Ryker, a man whose days are past, although 'not quite yet' as he says, contemplating one last job to be performed in the old-fashioned way.

We know nothing of Shane's past, but we note his lightning reaction to the cocking of a gun. He remarks with disapproval on the number of fences near Starrett's land. He says he is heading North. Where? Perhaps he is another Wilson, on his way to work for another Ryker. If he helps Starrett, it is for personal reasons, but not because of self-interest.

If John Wayne had played the part - and it has affinities with Ethan Edwards and Hondo - instead of Alan Ladd, I doubt that we would have perceived the inner sadness of the man, as he contemplates the the woman he can never have, the son who will never be born to him, the friend he must hurt, the open land he must watch carved up and the life he must lose.

Some say he is dead at the end of the film. I cannot say, but he is a dead man riding.

Conclusion

So are there any winners? As the old guy says at the end of The Magnificent Seven, 'Only the farmers have won.' Who are these farmers who have replaced the pioneering Ryker and the heroic Shane?

They are a pusillanimous crowd, only able to survive if they find a strong leader and someone not afraid to fight their fights for them. These are the men who despise Shane for initially refusing to fight, then worrying about the consequences for them when he does, who call his profession 'murder'. One is a comic Swede, one a boastful old soldier, another lazy drunk, their women plain and dowdy. Only the Starretts have class. And even they will help turn the wide open spaces into little parcels of suburbia, happily growing their 'taters' and rearing their hogs.

Monday, January 01, 2007

The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)

Directed by and starring Clint Eastwood

Clint Eastwood carries his stardom easily and confidently. Throughout this film he wears a scruffy beard, bisected by a long scar from a sabre slash, and spits streams of tobacco juice at anything that moves. But none of this can prevent his genuine charisma shining through.

He's not afraid of competition either, happy in the past to cede the screen to a scenery-chewing Eli Wallach, an orang-utan or, here, a loquacious old Indian offering periodic morsels of off-the-wall wisdom.

An exchange, one of the best jokes, shared between Josey and Lone Watie, played by Chief Dan George, encapsulates the film's theme. Josey bemoans the fact that, ' When I get to likin' someone, they ain't around long.'

'I notice,' replies Lone, 'when you get to dislikin' someone they ain't around long neither.'

Josey Wales is a variation on The Man with No Name Character and we get more than our fair share of superhuman gunplay. In fact, for students of Western gunfights, this film provides some of the best. Look out for 'The Missouri Roll', 'the Missouri Boatride' and the strangely thoughtful scene where a young bounty-hunter is forced to back down by Josey. Rather than breathe a sigh of relief, Josey waits, knowing that pride will bring the man back. He does indeed return, to certain death.

Unlike Clint's heroes for Leone, we are given some motivation for Josey's character. Forced to watch the murder by pro-Union guerrillas of his wife and son, he arms himself with a burning hatred and a deadly skill with firearms, and sets off on a quest for vengeance.

And we see his gradual and reluctant re-integration into society. A motley band of outsiders coalesce around Josey, drawn to his strength and diverting him from his vengeance. The little community, populated by familiar Western types is both a re-creation of his own lost innocence and a restoration of a society fractured by war.

Perhaps the film is too optimistic - Josey's love for the sister of a 'Redleg', conceivably one of those who murdered his family, the pact with the Comanche chief - but interestingly this all happens outside of established society, where government is seen as a malevolent force. And amongst the spirit of reconciliation, Josey's revenge must proceed.

An episodic film, a succession of quirky characters, miniature dramas, and punctuated by well-staged gunfights. Clint's best Western, in my opinion, a fine film in the twilight of the genre's life.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

There are no 'revisionist' Westerns

Film critics are so often lazy, or pretentious, which is much the same thing. Reviewers and TV previewers are especially guilty. Working to deadlines, I suppose.

You know the sort of thing: an actor who doesn't do a lot of emoting, like Clint or Greg is called 'wooden' as a matter of course, but if he rolls his eyebrows a bit he's called 'hammy'. If he's in a British war film, then the phrase 'stiff uper lip' has to be dragged out of the locker.

If he or she plays the same sort of role most of the time, they are 'type-cast'. Try something different and they are 'miscast'. If they use a different accent, it's always 'dodgy', even if the critic has never heard the accent itself in his life.

Plots tend to be 'derivative' if you don't like them, an 'hommage' if you do. Themes are 'Manichean' or 'post-ironic' or 'innovative' or 'ground-breaking' or, if the hero has to make a decision, 'existentialist'.

But the one I hate most - at the moment - is 'revisionist', when applied to the Western. What is being revised? Some non-existent standard of Western that has to be updated or undermined or improved?

The western has always been 'revising' itself, re-working stock themes and characters from The Squawman onwards. (All right, I haven't seen it, but I've read all about it). But I have seen these:

Stagecoach (1939): whore doesn't pay for her sins but gets the hero.

The Ox-Bow Incident (1943): tragic ending, where the good guys don't get to save the weak.

The Three Godfathers (1948): the Western as religious parable!

Red River (1948): the hero as drunken, cruel, paranoid, vengeful bastard.

Fort Apache (1948): pre-dates The Man who Shot Liberty Valance in its cynicism about 'printing the legend'.

Broken Arrow (1950): the Western as bleeding heart liberal plea for mutual understanding.

The Gunfighter (1950): ageing gunman wants to hang up his guns and retire, but trapped by his past. Ten years later The Magnificent Seven felt the same way, as did Steve Judd, and a few years later Pike Bishop.

The Furies (1950): the Western as Greek tragedy.

High Noon (1952): Communist propaganda - they say. Actually it's about as non-revisionist as you're going to get, apart from Shane.

The Naked Spur (1953) and all the Stewart/Mann films: 'psychological' Westerns, where the hero is seen as fallible, wrong, neurotic. See Red River.

Johnny Guitar (1954): McCarthyism, sexual frustration, weirdness. Final gunfight between women.

The Searchers (1956): the earliest one I've heard called 'revisionist'. It begins a long line of Westerns given that title, from the spaghettis through The Wild Bunch to Unforgiven.

After those the only revisionism you get is more authentic clothing, more moustaches, more foul language, more whores, even nastier Indians, even nastier cavalrymen, more corporate businessmen from 'back East' or 'up North', more bicycles and machine guns.

So are there any models which have been revised? Well, there are all the old B-westerns, which don't count and which are all that Mel Brooks could find to lampoon in Blazing Saddles. Shane was self-consciously 'classic', as were Duel in the Sun, The Big Country and Lawman.

No. If you want true, pure re-tellings of the classic Western myth, watch The Tall T, Ride Lonesome and Comanche Station. They don't come much better than that.