There’s nothing I like more than a rip-roarin’, rootin’-tootin’, rock ‘em-sock ‘em, six-gun-shootin’ horse opera. Or, as some folks like to call them, Westerns. There are many Westerns that I love that I could go on and on about, but this week I only had time to write about three, so here they are:
SHANE
I first saw this movie on Channel 9 on “The Million Dollar Movie” when I was a kid. In those days, calling something a “Million Dollar” movie implied that it was a big deal, a major production, a first class endeavor. The theme music for “The Million Dollar Movie” was the music from “Gone With The Wind, ” for cryin’ out loud. These days, a Million Dollar movie would refer to a low-budget independent film. The opening theme would probably be not from “Gone With The Wind,” but more likely, “Love Theme From Dogma ’95.”
Does Dogma ’95 even have a theme song? If it did, I think it would go something (place microphone close to mouth) …like this…
(Cue “Love Potion Number 9” melody)
I made a film and the budget was tight
And it was shot with just natural light
We didn’t have a script or a plot we could contrive
And that’s just one reason why I
Love Dogma ‘95
That is what is known as a digression. Let’s get back to “Shane.”
There is no better Western than “Shane.” Hell, there is no better movie than “Shane.” There is nothing in the history of mankind that is better than “Shane.” I hope I am conveying my admiration for this movie to you, because the point I would like to make is this: Holy Crap, I love “Shane!”
The story is simplicity itself. In Wyoming, cattle ranchers are trying to throw Homesteaders off their land. Then a stranger (Shane, played with melancholy perfection by Alan Ladd) drifts through town. He used to be a professional gunfighter, but he wants to put that all behind him and start a different life. Shane is on a personal journey of self-actualization, and he is all messed up inside. I’m guessing he wants to put gun slinging behind him because this is something he and his therapist have discussed and it is an area for Shane to work on.
Okay, I think I may have lost my mind. “Shane” is my favorite Western, and I love every single scene in it, yet here I am analyzing scenes that aren’t even in the movie. I’m no historian, but I don’t think they had therapy in the Old West. Back then, if you had “issues,” the only medical treatment available was either potions and elixirs from medicine shows, or gunfighting. But if you didn’t draw your six-shooter fast enough and you were shot dead in the street, there could be serious side effects. And even if you won the gunfight, it could still be an empty, unfulfilling experience. Such was the pain of being Shane.
Maybe Shane didn’t go to therapy (the Upper West Side of Manhattan is hard to find in Wyoming) but his character is filled with yearning and longing and a desire to be something more than what he is. I’m not the first person to point out that there is a whole love story that plays out between Shane and Jean Arthur’s character without a word of it ever being spoken (every frame of this movie is masterfully directed by the great George Stevens). Plus there is the love (not to mention hero worship) that little Joey (Brandon De Wilde, giving maybe the best performance by a child actor ever) has for Shane, and the love between Joe Starrett (Van Heflin, a terrific tough-but-tender performance), and his wife, Marian (Jean Arthur, in her final film role; she certainly left the biz on a high note).
Yes, there is a lot of love and tenderness in this movie, but that doesn’t stop “Shane” from being a totally kick-ass Western. The action scenes don’t go on and on and on the way they do in modern action blockbusters, but there is nothing more thrilling than the climactic gunfight between Shane and Jack Wilson, the hired gunman that the main bad guy, Ryker, brings to town.
(I’m sorry, but I must digress again. Ryker is played by character actor Emile Meyer, who gives a nasty and nuanced performance; you almost empathize with him in some scenes. Meyer also played the dirty, corrupt cop in “Sweet Smell Of Success,” (“I call him the kid with the ice cream face”) which I blogged about a few weeks ago. “Sweet Smell of Success” and “Shane” are two of my all time favorites, yet it was forever before I realized that the guy playing the cop in “Sweet Smell Of Success” is also Ryker in “Shane.” Emile Meyer never was what you’d call a household name but, damn, he was a good actor!)
But now let’s get to an actor who did become famous: Jack Palance. In “Shane” he plays Jack Wilson, the aforementioned gun fighter, and this minimalist essay in pure evil is the role that made Palance a star. Throughout the history of cinema, there have been thousands of scenes of good guys and bad guys pulling guns out of their holsters, but few if any are as powerful as the moment right before they draw when Shane says, “I’ve heard about you… I heard you were a low-down Yankee liar,” and Wilson coolly replies, “Prove it.” The thirty seconds or so that ensue are more exciting than any thirty minutes in most other films.
But I think I love the barroom fight earlier in the movie even more. I even love the super-corny moment when Shane and Joe Starrett have won the fight and are backing out of the bar and Joe triumphantly announces, “I’m paying for the damages. No, by God, WE’RE paying for the damages; Shane and me!” At which point, you half-expect Shane to say, “Uh, dude, I’m not making a lot of money as your ranch hand. Why are you volunteering me to pay for the damages? I think I’m going to need a cost-of-living wage increase.”
But Shane doesn’t say this; he doesn’t need to say it. He’s Shane, and he says and does everything in just the right way. He is Shane and he is the greatest. At the end of the movie, little Joey famously says, “Come back, Shane!” Amen to that, kid. Amen to that.
WAGON MASTER
This isn’t the greatest John Ford movie (although it was a personal favorite of Ford’s ). It’s not as great as “The Searchers,” or “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,” or “Stagecoach,” or “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.” But I’m listing it because it’s one of Ford’s lesser-known Westerns and it’s pretty friggin’ great.
“Wagon Master,” about a group of Mormons traveling west in a wagon train, is the one time Ford gave leading roles to Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr. These two excellent character actors usually played supporting roles, not just in Ford’s movies, but in all the films they were in (and Johnson eventually won a best supporting actor Oscar for his performance in “The Last Picture Show,” directed by Ford acolyte Peter Bogdanovich, a talented filmmaker and author in his own right.)
By the way, Ben Johnson is also memorable in “Shane,” playing Callaway, the bad guy who ridicules Shane in the bar and brags that he “put the run on a sodbuster” but then gets his butt kicked by Shane and then ultimately becomes a good guy, because he eventually realizes how awesome Shane is. But how could any decent human being not come to this conclusion? I mean, come on, this is Shane we’re talking about! Shane is the greatest! He… Oh, sorry, I got carried away with “Shane” again. I’m supposed to be talking about “Wagon Master.”
Another great character actor in “Wagon Master” from the Ford Repertory Company is Ward Bond. Was Ward Bond ever in a bad movie? The list of good and great ones he was in is pretty amazing:
“Gone With The Wind?” Ward Bond is in it.
“it’s A Wonderful Life?” Yeah, Ward Bond is in it.
“The Maltese Falcon?” Ward Bond. In it.
“It Happened One Night?” He’s in it.
“Dead End?” In it.
“Sgt. York?” In it.
“Johnny Guitar?” In it.
And that’s not even counting all the great John Ford movies Ward Bond is in. Ford used to love to cast him in his films, and then constantly berate him and make fun of his gigantic ass (it’s true, look it up, it’s in all the Ford biographies.)
You know who else is in “Wagon Master?” James Arness, well known as the brother of Peter Graves and even more well known as the star of “Gunsmoke.” He was so pure and noble and decent when he played Marshall Matt Dillon that it’s fun to watch him as one of the bad guys in “Wagon Master.” Ford was great at expressing character and emotion visually, and just one look at Arness in this movie and you know you’re looking at a total crazed psychopath of the Old West.
Guns are fired exactly twice in “Wagon Master,” and after the second shot is fired, near the end of the film, Ben Johnson takes the six-shooter and throws it as far away as possible. That is all the violence there is in “Wagon Master.” Hey, I’ve got nothing against a shoot ‘em up that has a lot of shooting ‘em up, but this is a peaceful and lyrical movie packed with John Ford’s visual poetry. I don’t know much about the Mormon religion, but if you go by “Wagon Master,” Mormons seem to be willing to place their trust in good and reliable character actors, and on at least this one point, I am in complete accordance with their faith.
FORT APACHE
The main reason I’m mentioning this John Ford movie is that I believe it would unequivocally be the greatest Western ever made if it weren’t for two elements that bring the movie down: Shirley Temple and Victor McLaglen.
First of all, don’t get me wrong, I love Victor McLaglen; he is wonderful in Ford’s “The Informer,” and “The Quiet Man,” and “Gunga Din,” (directed by George Stevens, the director of “Shane!”) and he is very good in “Fort Apache,” but it’s the way his character is written and conceived that bugs me. Apparently Ford thought that there was nothing funnier than a drunken Irishman. Now, admittedly, most Irishmen are either drunks or recovering drunks (luckily for me, I am an Irishman in the latter category); still, every time “Fort Apache” focuses on the inebriated exploits o Sgt. Festus Mulcahy (yes, that’s the name of the character McLaglen plays), the movie starts to stink worse than the steam table at a Midtown Manhattan Blarney Stone.
And things get even worse whenever the movie detours into Shirley Temple’s character and her quaint courtship with John Agar. These parts of the film are sappy and crappy and it is a tribute to Ms. Temple’s good common sense that not long after she made this film she gave up acting and began a long and distinguished career as a politician and diplomat. If I ever met her and the subject of “Fort Apache” came up, I’d be the one who would have to be diplomatic.
But the only reason I’m harping on how bad these parts of the film are is because the rest of the film is so damn good. Henry Fonda plays Lt. Col. Owen Thursday, an embittered cavalry officer whose petty need for his own personal glory motivates him to initiate unnecessary military actions for no good reason. (Remind you of any current political figures?) He is willing to break treaties with the Apaches and he arrogantly leads his men into a battle that turns into a bloody quagmire (Does this remind you of any current…okay, I’m not going there.)
John Wayne (perhaps the most underrated actor in the history of movies) plays the smart and reasonable officer who questions Thursday and bristles when he is tricked into double-crossing the Apaches. All of the scenes involving Fonda and Wayne and all the other Ford stock company players are great and the film has an ending that I didn’t get at first but upon repeated viewings I’ve come to realize is a deeply ironic statement that more than resonates with the America we live in today.
I’m just saying that if you remove McLaglen’s whimsical alcoholism and Temple and Agar’s coy and grating romance, you have a great movie, maybe the greatest Western that isn’t “Shane.”
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