No Stranger Ever Good Newsed Me: Red River (1948)

It really little surprise that Howard Hawks would find himself doing double time in my month of westerns, considering that both the previously viewed Rio Bravo, as well as the wonderfully classicist Red River stand as the giants within the genre.  As one of the employees at my local record stores suggest, Hawks had a certain ability to pick a genre and hit whatever he made within its confines out of the park, think not only of the westerns in question now, but his screwball comedies, most notably His Girl Friday and Bringing Up Baby, not to mention exceptional films in other genres as well.  As equally critically acclaimed as Rio Bravo, if not slightly more underrated, Red River is a chiaroscuro picturesque focus on the cattle herding element of western expansion, a narrative which in any other director but Hawks' hands would prove unbearably slow paced and lacking in the action necessary for the western.  However, as established with the previous discussion of Rio Bravo, Hawks is not a director whose primary aims are those of action, he is a narrative oriented filmmaker, yet, given his cast and the emotional investment of each line of dialogue the film, nonetheless, becomes very vibrant and fast-paced, making the even more intense scenes of shootouts and stampedes seem otherworldly in their excited pacing.  Also this is an unusual western from my frame of reference because it involves the presence of something unexpected, John Wayne playing the antagonist, a surprise doubled by the narratives beginning which would suggest him to be the good guy.  Of course, John Wayne is not the out and out bad guy, although he does engage in some dastardly actions throughout the film, he is simply a figurative obstacle for the coming of age of Montgomery Clift's character and sets in as an intriguing consideration of what exactly comes of those whose unbridled drive for success inevitably result in their tragic downfall.  Red River is a film whose plot is so straight-foward as to almost seem arbitrary, but within the mask of simplicity, Hawks provides viewers with a consideration of how self-identity is formed on an epic scale.

Red River begins with Thomas Dunson (John Wayne) informing his pioneering group that he is seeking his own course of action detached from their trek, much to the dismay of the pioneering leader, as well as his lover whom he casts away concerning himself for her safety.  This highly melodramatic scene is incredibly brief and the narrative then transfers to Thomas and his ranch partner Nadine Groot (Walter Brennan) searching about the land with the intent of finding an appropriate place to create a cattle ranch only to run into a rather aggresive young man who attempts to hold Thomas up with no success.  The young man Matt Garth (Montgomery Clift) proves to be wide-eyed and lost a fact that leads Thomas to take him under his wing and teach him the ways of cattle driving, with the hopes of finding an assistant and future owner for his establishment.  The narrative then progresses again a couple of years to find Thomas having trouble maintaining a profit with his cattle leading to a belief that he will have to take the herd over a long distance to sell them and make a nice profit.  This trek while dangerous receives the support of Matt  and Nadine and eventually even gets the help of a whole crew most notably Cherry Valance (John Ireland) a man almost of equal age to Matt and the two create a mutual admiration.  Thomas before the trip makes it rather clear that the trip will be intense and warns against anyone coming who might want to quit.  Once on the trip this statement proves quite valid as weather, stampedes and the psychological state of the crew prove too much to bare, leading Thomas, heavily relying on a bottle of whisky, to come down hard on any perpetrator, whether it be for minor theft or desertion.  Eventually, Thomas and his actions prove too much for Matt and he stands up to the aging man taking it upon himself to drive the cattle to a new location.  This endeavor is successful for Matt, after a minor run in with a group of attacking natives, yet Thomas, folows close on his trail, considering that a few scenes earlier he vowed to kill Matt upon finding him again.  Despite the outright success of the transactions, Matt is fully aware that he must face Thomas in the street, or else fear his constant presence for the remainder of his life.  When the two meet in the streets it turns from incredibly violent to familiar jousting to humor in a matter of moments.  Thomas, realizing that Matt has grown to be successful retracts his death threats and instead offers to share their future cattle brand and identity.

While I could pull from trope upon trop with this film, I want to talk about something that has been discussed on this blog in detail before that, of course, being the idea of the homosocial bond.  This is the intensely intimate relationship shared between men in a believe that their identities as brothers through situation is highly valued.  This is often depicted in war and sports films and certainly has a heavy presence in westerns as well.  The interesting thing with its manifestation within the context of Red River is that it quickly crosses from the purely homosocial to the distinctively homosexual.  I know it is a trick to read into films with such an anachronistic framework, but as the late Alexander Doty would argue, when it comes to repressed narratives such appropriation is necessary and when it is offered it should not be ignored.  Red River very much has a set of homosexually fueled relationships whether it be the tense relationship between Thomas and Matt which is both paternal and one of longing, they fail to kill one another because they are "too soft," yet it is also highly likely that their intense feelings of passion block them from doing so.  Yet the relationship that is really worth noting is the one between Cherry and Matt which is highly lustful from its onset, during their initial encounter the two size one another up, and each shares in a gaze of the other that is decidedly drawn out, an act that is quickly followed by the two exchanging guns and showing off their skills as marksmen...by this point the tension is palpable, although never fully enacted upon.  If this is not enough to justify the reading one can consider the scenes around the campfire when women are discussed by either man, the other often looks at them in a disgusted manner, hoping it to be a joke as to no betray their shared longing, in fact, in a bit of clever dialogue, Hawks often has these discussions cut off, not as a means to suggest the characters silence, but, instead; to say that talks that betray the homosocial, and, in this case, homosexual longing are not welcome.  Tragedy strikes in the films closing, however, when Cherry dies at the hands of Thomas, allowing for a female character to fully invade the narrative and reject both forms of bonding in the name of a more heteronormative framework.

Key Scene:  The post stampede scene will prove to be one of the most haunting images of the entire month and will stand magnificently next to those from Jarmusch's Dead Man.

This is a film that is leaps above its contemporaries and stands high in the genre as a whole.  Unfortunately, there is no bluray available at the moment so I would suggest renting it until one becomes available.

No Quarter. No Mercy For The Loser: Rio Bravo (1959)

When it comes to the classic westerns, ones that almost all clock in at well over two hours in run time it is not just idea, but a necessity that they prove to be watchable, because there is absolutely nothing worse than a movie that drags on in the context of already being incredibly lengthy.  When it works it is something wonderful, like is the case with The Great Escape or with Seven Samurai.  Fortunately, as a filmmaker Howard Hawks lives in a world where dialogue is always engaging and the plot perplexing and this is certainly the case with his classic star-driven western Rio Bravo, which is both incredibly well-made and highly entertaining.  Within the matter of just under two and a half hours, viewers are teated to a variety of human identity issues being fleshed out and dealt with in great turn, while also avoiding the worrisome threat of being too preachy or misdirected.  Of course, Rio Bravo is more than just a traditional western that happens to just be really cool to watch, it manages to comfortably move about the genre specifics, without really leaving the space of its narrative, in fact, this movie has arguably been the most closed in within terms of character movement, only depicting the individuals within the relation to the town, and more so, within concern to the town jail and hotel.  Such a setup would be restrictive to most directors and performers, but within the world of a Howard Hawks film the more congested and restrictive the space the more he seems willing to absolutely blow the lid off of possibilities, whether it be a great turn at the comedic for John Wayne, or the wonderfully sentimental song number midway through the film.  Far before I ever envisioned this blog as a regular endeavor, let alone planned to devote an entire month to the genre of westerns, many of the individuals whose taste in film I highly admired, referred to the western as being their favorite genre, and while I am not quite committed to that kind of admiration, watching Rio Bravo has certainly led to me heavily reconsidering how much I have thought my top ten films to be solidified.  I would have to revisit my list of favorite all-time films, but considering how absolutely excellent Rio Bravo proved to be i would stand to call it my favorite western at the moment, although it is early in the month, with a ton of other classics on the docket so that is liable to change.

Rio Bravo begins with the stumbling and defeated The Dude (Dean Martin) walking into a bar sheepishly attempting to get a drink from anyone who will offer.  When the wily and troublesome Joe Burdette (Claude Akins) thinks it hilarious to throw a coin into the spitoon and watch The Dude fish it out, in steps John T. Chance (John Wayne) the local sheriff to reprimand Joe for his childish and degrading behavior, which invariably leads to a fight, in which The Dude in a moment of clarity helps Chance take back control, eventually leading to the arrest of Joe.  However, the run in with Joe is only one of Chance's problems and he, in fact, is having little success keeping a lid on the ruffians and wild folks who exist in and around his town.  Hoping to get The Dude back on the right track he hires him back on as an assistant sheriff, along with Stumpy (Walter Brennan) in a hopes that their unlikely combination will help to avoid trouble in the town.  Yet, when an old friend Pat Wheeler (Ward Bond) comes into town, along with a new hired hand Colorado Ryan (Ricky Nelson) only to see the dire state of Chance's town, he offers his services.  Chance refuses, however, noting that it is almost certain death and his workers will be too preoccupied with thoughts of their families to serve in any fruitful capacity. Instead, after some prodding and jousting on both ends Chance ends up attaining the aid of Colorado to standup against Joe's brother Nathan (John Russell) and his crew of lackeys.  Furthermore, Chance begins a relationship with Feathers (Angie Dickinson), as well as using Carlos (Pedro Gonzalez Gonzalez) and his hotel as a point of operations.  While the singular focus is on moving trouble from the town, Chance is also quite aware of the necessity involved in making sure that The Dude stays sober, a decidedly hard task when The Dude admits that any stint without hard liquor results in his sadness about his past, however, with some stern words from Chance and a moment of success on The Dude's part he comes around and realizes his possibilities as a crime fighter.  In the end Chance, The Dude, Colorado and eventually Stumpy use their small team to take on Nathan's entire posse, an endeavor made ever slightly easier with the aid of high powered explosives.  In the end Chance and Feathers openly admit their feelings, while Stumpy and The Dude patrol the streets of the much calmer and more civilized town.

Whiskey and heavy drinking are of course one of the major tropes, or at the very least themes within most westerns, and while the consumption of alcohol in heavy amounts is often depicted within the genre, very little is done in the way of drawing attention to the issues of alcoholism or the heavy and continue abuse of liquor.  Of course, the drunkard does emerge in films of this nature, but never in such a way as to be a main character, or one whose actions are explained and grounded.  As such, Rio Bravo, while very much about Chance's own attempts at reigning in an out of control town, perhaps an extension of his psyche, or about Colorado's drive to assert his own young masculinity, ultimately, exists as a film about recovery.  This recovery can of course be taken at a very literal level as The Dude Learns to manage his days without even the slightest of drinking which leads to him having varied mood swings and an absurd diet.  He is written of throughout as an alcoholic, so much so, that only Chance seems to support his push towards being sober, suggesting that much as is the case with Alcoholics Anonymous style systems, that each individual needs a person to work them through the toughest of times and be a voice to engage with or a shoulder to lean on.  Chance, as his name suggests, is a final vestige through which The Dude finds his salvation.  Of course, he is not, by any means, the only character attempting to reinvent himself, but Hawks' directorial style seems to emphasize The Dude and his particular concern for turning over a new leaf.  In many scenes the camera often lingers on The Dude as he fidgets and moves about the space, an unusual technique for the time, let alone the genre, however, perhaps the most obvious moment in which the narrative suggests that The Dude is attempting to redefine or reestablish himself comes when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, seeing himself shaved and clean is followed by his being attacked.  In the past his confrontations with a former self would have led him to the bottle, yet when tied up he must learn to suffice without the crutch, eventually finding solace and comfort in music instead.  The Dude and his movement from an addiction are central to the film, which is particularly intriguing since the film moves and feels like a western, while also being a very focused human drama.

Key Scene: The singing scene of course, so much musical excellence is occurring in that space, it is only a slight let down, however, that John Wayne does not join in the fun.

Your Story Didn't Sound Quite Right: The Big Sleep (1946)

Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Howard Hawks.  These names are all synonymous with classic Hollywood, particularly the best of its era.  Add a screenplay written by William Faulkner and this humble blogger has found himself something that he is certain to enjoy.  To call The Big Sleep enjoyable is to severely undersell it, as I have noted prior on this blog, The Big Sleep is by far a perfect film, from beginning to end.  Even considering that the film suffered from its share of censorship, it is flawless.  Bogart and Bacall's chemistry is explosive, the dialogue is witty and the cinematography is everything that a person loves about film noir.  I am becoming quite aware that Howard Hawks as a filmmaker is one of the best to ever come along.  He is not as prolific as a Kubrick or Welles, by any means, but his films are solid, enjoyable and timeless, a feat that is in my book near damn impossible.  Furthermore, I cannot help but to admire the diversity of Hawks as a filmmaker, whether it is a straight forward drama like The Big Sleep, or a loony comedy like Bringing Up Baby, it is assured that it will be a step above its competitors and well worth your time to engage with.  Also, it should be noted that Hawks name shows up on many a top one hundred list a lot, and deservedly so.

The Big Sleep is a definitive noir film and as such it has many of the signifiers of the genre.  The detective who traipses around ethics, a seductive woman with ulterior motives and a whole lot of shadows.  The detective in this film, is one Philip Marlowe (Humphrey Bogart) who has recently undertaken a a case of blackmail from the well-respected General Sternwood (Charles Waldron), relating to a gambling debt accrued by his daughter Carmen Sternwood (Martha Vickers).  Marlowe knowing full and well the implications of such a case, demands a considerable amount of money before agreeing to take the case.  However, as Marlowe becomes entrenched within the case it becomes clear quite quickly that he is not dealing with a simple case of blackmail.  Between the awkward advances of the young Sternwood, illicit dealings at bookshops and an eventual homicide, Marlowe's case becomes an incredibly convoluted mess.  This trouble is only exacerbated by his evolving feelings for the general's other daughter Vivian Rutledge (Lauren Bacall).  It becomes clear to Marlowe that the only individual he can trust within the entire case is himself, often relying on his wits, masculinity and fluidity between the world of law and crime to gain advantages over his enemies.  After killing a fair share of people, getting mugged and sleeping with a handful of women, Marlowe eventually implicates all people involved within the crime, which by the end of the film is a considerable amount of individuals.  Fortunately, for Marlowe, his relationship with Vivian proves successful and the two are shown sharing a romantic gaze and the promise of partnership well after the closing of the case.  It is certainly unconventional in its film noir nature, but nonetheless indicative of its tradition.

The Big Sleep, is great.  It is a classic piece of cinema that deserves all the praise it has gained over the decades.  However, as a film scholar, I cannot help but to acknowledge the many problems that emerge within the film as a social text.  When considering that it was made in 1946, it is easy to explain many of the issues that emerge, but I plan to point them out for those who may overlook many of the issues.  Perhaps the most blatant issue within the film is the inherent issue of patriarchal dominance within the text. Marlowe's every action is deemed acceptable or praiseworthy, given his power as a white male. Such a position allows him to act in a violent manner to those around him, going so far as to slap women when they are caught in a lie.  He also is privileged with the ability to sleep with any women he desires, a thing he does on multiple occasions within the film, even demanding that one girl remove her glasses before they engage in the act.  Furthermore, the film as a whole is entrenched within notions of white wealth.  Excluding Marlowe and the mobsters he encounters, the remainder of the film's characters are well-to-do.  When it is apparent that their worst problems involve gambling, one has trouble empathizing with them considering that many people struggle to simply get by financially.  Perhaps it is this disconnect from the gritty underworld of traditional poverty and crime that makes the film seem so unlike other noir films.  The characters are privileged, their actions seem less justified and almost pathetic in nature.  To be fair, the illogical nature of the Sternwood family's existence helps to make Marlowe much more relateable, but even considering this he is a lecherous individual who only looks out for his personal interests.  With those critiques in mind, it would be easy to hate the movie, however, I promise you will still find it incredibly enthralling.

The Big Sleep is a backbone for any legitimate film collection, do yourself a favor and by a copy, it is rather cheap and has high rewatchability.

Please, A Lady Never Admits Her Feet Hurt: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

The more Technicolor films involving Marilyn Monroe I watch, the more I realize their rather grand influence on the whole of cinema.  Whether it be the obvious examples like the cultural knowledge of a song like "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend," or less obvious things like Howard Hawks making a veritable lesson plan on how to direct a musical.  Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is as much a textbook example of how to make a musical as it is something entirely detached from its lavish and extravagant predecessors.  It is easy to attach an explanation to its lasting success, because simply put it is one of those rarely made films that are in essence perfect.  Ignoring the possibilities for social criticism, all of which can be chalked up to the societal standards at the time of the films release, there is hardly a flaw to be found in a film like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.   I found myself relishing in the glorious colors, zany dance numbers and down right hilarity of the script more than I tend to for musicals of this era.  It is certainly a feat of filmmaking and easily one of the best films to emerge from America in 1953.  However, what is perhaps the most important attribute of this film, like The Seven Year Itch, is its ability to help me detach myself from the cultural ideal of Marilyn Monroe to better understand her as the marvelous actress she was, without the lingering tragedies of her life off screen.

The film opens unabashedly with two showgirls performing on stage. These women are Lorelei (Marilyn Monroe) a woman who is almost entrepreneurial in her quest for wealthy men and her friend Dorothy (Jane Russel) who is longing to find an intimate relationship with a man that is both meaningful and void of false pretenses.  The duo is about to engage in a trip to France that is sponsored almost entirely by Lorelei's beau the foolish and rich Gus Edmond (Tommy Noonan).  Before the trip, Lorelei hopes that Gus will propose to her only to discover that he plans to hold off his asking.  While boarding the ship we are shown Gus Edmond Sr. (Taylor Holmes) demanding that private investigator Ernie Malone (Elliot Reid) watch over Lorelei to catch her in an act of infidelity.  Ernie agrees to this task but also admits to an instantaneous attraction to Dorothy, who he begins to engage with the moment they both are on the ship.  Once the ship sets sail it is apparent what the two girls are after, Lorelei is after a new suitor and Dorothy is on a quest for love, which seems impossible despite having a ship full of male athletes.  Ernie continues his quest to frame Lorelei, a task that is proving rather simple given her recent attraction to a wealthy diamond tycoon appropriately nicknamed Piggy (Charles Coburn), despite the ever-invasive presence of his wife.  However, Ernie fails to efficiently trap Lorelei in the act of infidelity, because of his preoccupation with Dorothy who becomes aware of Ernie's double life quite quickly.  Lorelei succeeds in convincing Piggy to give her a diamond tiara which belongs to his wife, an action with dire consequences as it results in both Lorelei and Dorothy's banishing by Gus to the streets of Paris with not money or residence.   Trying to free himself of trouble Piggy manages to steal back the tiara, although this does not happen before Dorothy attempts to pass as Lorelei in court, making a complete mockery of the judicial process.  Piggy manages to free the women of their assumed guilt by appearing at the courthouse with the tiara.  The women leave court and are later approached by Gus's father who is irate with Lorelei for her desire to marry his son, although Lorelei in a moment of brilliance states that her desires are no different from men wanting to marry a pretty girl, it is a matter of social status.  The film then closes on a rather high note in a double wedding of Lorelei to Gus and Dorothy to Ernie, implying that, despite their new relationships with men, the girls will still engage in their wily ways as independent women of the world.

I had the fortune of reading a few insightful articles regarding Gentlemen Prefer Blondes after viewing the film.  Both were excerpts from an older edition of Issues In Feminist Film Criticism, which focused on how positive the film was concerning its images of women.  One would be surprised to discover that the individuals that authored these articles found the women to be positively portrayed.  It would seem that the overarching patriarchal dominance that closes the film would nullify any sort of liberated image, but this is not the case when the film is taken as a whole.  As one article argued through a Marxist lens, the film is about trading commodities, and the character of Lorelei should not be seen as a woman using her body sexually for money, because it was simply a respected job for a fifties era woman.  Lorelei should be seen as an entrepreneur who engages in business transactions, all of which she gains financial advances, without ever officially giving up her commodity, which is in this film her body.  The other article discusses the two women's relationships to the filmic space, noting that they both dominate it throughout the film and serve as the focal point for most every scene in the film.  Take for example the dance and song number in the swimming area, it is clear that Dorothy dominates the men in the scene and is aggressively pursuing sexual power, a truly liberating act for women in this era.  Finally, I have mentioned The Bechdel Test on here before concerning women's images in films and it may surprise you that this film passes all the sections of the test, something films still fail to do, but something that rarely happened in 1950's films.  It is amazing to section a movie like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes in such a pro-feminist place, because when one looks at a movie poster or simply recollects this era in Hollywood it is easily assumed that this occurrence was impossible.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is a majestic film from the fading years of Hollwood grandeur.  It is a Technicolor masterpiece that has tragically yet to be released on Bluray.  Given this, a regular DVD will have to suffice for this must have film to any respectable collection.