A whirlwind of Westerns

Westerns were practical in early Hollywood – California’s vast deserts and intimidating mountains could substitute for any western backdrop.While I have not traveled much lately, I have spent many afternoons and evenings in the High Sierra, Monument Valley and other beautiful corners of the Southwest thanks to the Belcourt's Essential Westerns series, easily the best series the arts theater has ever assembled.

The cinema set down simple rules – nothing they had shown in recent memory, no more than 2 films from any director but John Ford. They also violated the rule to show High Noon and The Searchers, but those were among the best-attended screenings and could not be exclude. I could quibble with what wasn’t there, but  not with what made the cut. Some were old favorites seen frequently at home (High Noon, Unforgiven, Liberty Valance), and others I refused to miss on the big screen (Stagecoach).

In almost every film, the landscape is as much a character as the actors. No one can forget the yellow aspens in Ride the High Country, Monument Valley in John Ford films, the crunching, treeless prairie of Unforgiven or the Grand Tetons looming in Shane.

The series was funded by H.G. and Nina Webb. Mr. Webb spoke before the final film, discussing the series as a four-year effort to bring these films in together. When he walked back to his seat, I whispered, “Thank you for funding this.” Unexpectedly, he squeezed my shoulder and patted my back while thanking me for coming to the films.

Afterward, he and the theater’s education director led an informal discussion about the movies. They let everyone talk about the movies, what they liked and what they took away. It was as nice as a moment as I’ve ever had in the Belcourt, and I’ve had a lot in the past 10 years.

Of the 26 films in the series, I saw 10, many with friends who were new to the films or wanted the big-screen experience. Here are some thoughts about my many hours in the west. 

Nothing wrong with seeing them this way - but the big screen is better.

High Noon
In 84 tense, intricate minutes, High Noon simply reflects human nature. Most of us want to sign up to defend our town – until we realize no one else has signed up. Shot in close to real-time, Will Kane searches high and low for help. Lloyd Bridges is memorable as his spurned deputy, as its Katy Jurado as his former lover. We discover that the rogue Kane put away, Frank Miller, was in some cases good for business, and most townspeople believe the departure of Kane will be enough to spare them from Miller’s vengeance. What helps is Gary Cooper’s natural acting ability – a squint of the eyes, a worried look, his obvious shame at punching a man who didn’t deserve it. He delivers so much with so little action. He is a giant, and he can sell the weight on the sheriff’s back and the strain it places on his new marriage to his Quaker wife. With every rejection in his effort to round up a posse, he only stands taller.

The Searchers 
I envied my friend Tyler, who had not seen The Searchers before its Belcourt screening. This one must be enjoyed on the big screen, John Ford’s love of Monument Valley displayed in full color. If you question John Wayne’s acting ability – he made a lot of bad movies, but none with John Ford – start here. His “That’ll be the day” drawl spurred Buddy Holly to write his famous song. Read between the lines enough, and John Wayne’s character is despicable. A Confederate soldier who left years earlier then fought in Mexico and revels in shooting out the eyes of dead Indians to deny them entrance to the spirit realm. The Searchers routinely ends up atop every greatest Western list, as well it should, even if you just watch that magnificent final shot through the homestead door.

Ride the High Country 
Before this Sam Peckinpah classic, I couldn’t pick Randolph Scott or Joel McCrea from a police lineup. The career western actors excel as two past-prime gunslingers hanging onto the final days of the West. Easily the biggest revelation of the series, this Sam Peckinpah flick with two aging Western stars in their final roles was a B-movie that the studio elevated to A-status upon seeing its quality.

The aspens are yellow as the gunfighter s ascend to a mining camp deep in the California high country. If you like your westerns revisionist, this one is painfully so. A young lady accompanying the gunslingers find the reality of her fiancé at the mining camp horrifying. The final shot will stick with you long after the movie has wrapped. During the series discussion, one of the men who saw the entire series said his uncle used to say, “There are John Wayne people and there are Randolph Scott people.” Even as he played against type in High Country, Scott has a solid argument.

Red River
I have plenty of trouble with Howard Hawks, questioning the classic tag placed on many of his films, especially Rio Bravo (the first hour feels like nothing but John Wayne walking around). But Red River is a mighty west, chronicling a cattle drive across Texas and Oklahoma. Montgomery Clift stands up to Wayne, whose character grows increasingly unstable as the drive progresses. There are so many actors involved in the cattle drive that it grows hard to track them all, but somehow the personalities emerge. The sense of menace that shades the movie grinds toward a final confrontation between Wayne and Clift.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance 
In the end, this remains my favorite. With big names, it is a revisionist Western, a Casablanca set in the Old West - there are winners and losers, with the pioneers replaced by a new law-abiding generation. Ransom Stoddard ascends the political rungs after he kills a notorious outlaw (or seemingly does). He returns to Shinbone following the death of rancher Tom Doniphon, and the story unfolds through a long flashback.

Lee Marvin's Valance overflows with menace, brutally whipping Stoddard and leaving him for dead on their first meeting. The dinner scene, a simmering moment between Stoddard, Valance and Doniphon is one of the best in cinema. Valance’s sadistic sidekicks are played by Strother Martin and Lee Van Cleef, an amazing bonus. The looks on the faces of Steward and Vera Miles when the train porter says “Nothing’s too good for the man who shot Liberty Valance” is one of the more painful ends to any movie. She married Rance but clearly loved Tom too. It’s a western that takes a raw look at the decisions we make in life.

Stagecoach 
The legend of John Wayne starts here. An ensemble piece loaded with familiar faces (Andy Devine, John Carradine and Thomas Mitchell, who won a best supporting actor Oscar as the drunken doctor), no face can outshine the arrival of the semi-outlawed Ringo Kid, John Wayne in his breakthrough role. No one could forget his iconic entrance - on horseback and framed by mesas, Wayne twirls his rifle as he halts the stagecoach.

The movie and his performance still knocks me over – the young, lean Wayne is hungry here, and the performance is nuanced and layered. Everyone is brilliant, the stunts are incredible by modern standards. A prostitute is cast out of town, a drunk doctor takes special interest in the samples of a whiskey salesman, a gambler takes an overcautious interest in a military wife trying to hide her pregnancy. Devine is actually driving that coach. Yes, the Indians are treated as savages, although they are more plot point than characters. Stagecoach marks the ascension of westerns to high art.

Unforgiven 
Clint Eastwood’s magnum opus holds up. We see Bill Munny, a retired gunfighter mourning his wife and raising his kids on a failing pig farm set off to pursue a last bounty. Munny could be the older version of almost any Eastwood western character, and the actor-director famously held onto the script until he was old enough to play the lead role. All the myths of the west are laid bare. Munny was a true outlaw and a murderer of women and children, only repentant for his past after marrying and giving up drinking. Gene Hackman’s sheriff, Little Bill, is sober and sadistic, a lawman who is every bit as savage. Watching Little Bill savage Richard Harris’ big-talking gunman English Bob (Hackman calls Bob the “Duck of Death” out of spite, riffing on his "Duke of Death" nickname) is brutal but delightful. The legends of the west end here, heroes and villains reside on either side of the law and Eastwood’s last word on the genre that made him a star is also his best.

Shane
Let’s get it out of the way - that kid is annoying. We see most of the movie from his point-of-view, from Shane’s arrival to Shane's climactic gunfight, Joey can't avert his eyes. This gunslinger in his fresh-off-the-rack buckskin shows up, and he’s the instant idol overshadowing his sodbuster father (does anyone play homesteaders better than Van Heflin?). But the sheer volume of character actors and use of the Grand Teton scenery as a backdrop for the entire film keep Shane humming. Still, Alan Ladd has a quiet coolness. He’s a small guy shot to look large, but there’s a world weariness to Shane, a weight on his shoulders we’ll never know. The old homesteaders-versus-cattlemen plot plays out in fresh ways. These homesteaders are more determined and band together to avoid hazing from the cattleman’s thugs. As the hired gunman brought to quell the homesteader, Jack Palance owns every scene he’s in.

The Furies 
King Lear comes to the New Mexico Territory in Walter Huston’s final role and an unforgettable performance by Barbara Stanwyck as his fiery daughter who wants nothing more than to inherit his ranch. The film professor introducing The Furies noted its ability to avoid easy characterization, as the movie takes cues from many sources and genres. One viewing and you’ll never forget Stanwyck’s dry, cutting remarks to a widow pursuing her father for his money - “I had a notion you had a wonderful notion.” All those quips come before Stanwyck flies into a rage and disfigures the woman. Lots of interesting dynamics with Mexican homesteaders who predate the formation of the ranch and Huston’s use of T.C. Notes instead of actual currency.

Johnny Guitar
The name is supposed to sound silly. Despite its many dark moments, elements of camp and subversion of western tropes boost the complexity of Johnny Guitar.

For years, I waited for Johnny Guitar to arrive from Netflix, but the film never budged from the queue’s “Unavailable” section. When it landed on the last day of Essential Westerns, I could not skip the lone screening. Joan Crawford bought rights to the source material as a starring vehicle for herself and does not disappoint. She stands up to everyone who threatens her, although the return of her former lover as Johnny Guitar leads to fresh upheaval. It’s undeniably campy, from the bright outfits worn by Crawford and the outlaws. Mercedes McCambridge is electric as a wounded rival set on outsized vengeance against Crawford’s indomitable Vienna. Like many great westerns, the good and evil in Johnny Guitar is not always clear cut.

Burned through three five-packs in two months