So You Want to Start Watching Westerns, an Introduction

So You Want to Start Watching _______is an occasional feature here at Riku Writes. It is a guide to anyone unfamiliar with a particular star, director, genre, or time period in films. After a brief introduction, I will provide a sampling of films to watch. Although I will always strive to include the best possible films for each chapter in the series, I will also look to present representative work. I'll say a little bit about each film, all of which will be provided in chronological order. This is the third of the series. In the first I provided an introduction to the films of Humphrey Bogart the second was an intro to screwball comedies and in the third I introduced films of the 1970s.

Howdy Pardner. Y'all new to this here genre? No need to saddle up or tote your shootin iron, just mosey on over to yer Netflix queue or rustle up a DVD from the local livery stable or saloon.

Westerns, as the following list will help prove, span the entire history of cinema. Like any other genre there are within it classics, stinkers and the utterly average. A Western is generally agreed to be a story set in the area that constitutes the present day U.S. Usually from west of the Appalachians to east of the Sierra Nevadas. Sometimes spilling south into Mexico and north into Canada. The time period depicted is usually between Lewis & Clark (1806) and the end of WWI (1918), though most are in the post Civil War pre 20th century period.

Because there are a seemingly infinite number of Westerns that have basic stories of good guys and bad guys that are plainly told, the Western has gotten a bad rap with many snooty types like yours truly. Except yours truly appreciates movies of all stripes so long as they're good -- and boy howdy they's some Westerns that are doozies.

Westerns make for good cinema in large part because a director can paint his story across a grand canvass. Most good Westerns embody some aspects of the great length and breadth that was the America West of bygone times. While the wildness of the wild west has been greatly exaggerated, there was a fair amount of colorful outlaws (colorful so long as you didn't cross their paths) and heroic figures. And the west really did feature all manner of what we call characters. Odd, quirky, "touched" and sadistic. There was also the added element of the Native tribes who, as you may well know, where there first. For the most part they were done dirty in Westerns for the first 70 or so years of films. Stereotypical "ugh" spouting savages were convenient villains and foils. There has been a corrective to that over the years and depicting Native tribes in a more sympathetic light has added dimension to their stories and thus to the genre. Truly, the West is a setting that practically begs for myth making.

I set myself the ridiculous challenge of coming up with a starter set of only ten. I failed. Here are 12 films to wet your appetite. This is not a compilation of the greatest Westerns ever made nor a list of my favorites. This is designed to give the novice a broad sample of what's out there. I've attempted to  spread the choices out to represent various time periods in film (over 100 years) with a variety of directors and stars. This meant the inclusion of only two John Ford films on the list. He was the grand master of the genre. John Wayne also makes only two appearances.

I list plenty of other choices at the conclusion of this writing.

The Great Train Robbery (1903). Why not start at the beginning with a western made when the west was still wild? It was innovative, influential but only 12 minutes long. Still a fun film, not to mention a relic from the past.

The Big Trail (1930). A fairly early talkie and a much neglected film that finally was masterfully restored on DVD three years ago. Raoul Walsh directed this epic story of a wagon train on the Oregon Trail. It is replete with the requisite good guys, bad guys and romance. It was shot in wide screen well ahead of its time. This is a great Western to start with, containing, as it does, all the classic elements, including John Wayne.

Stagecoach (1939). The film that brought the Western back into fashion and helped revolutionize film making in the process. Orson Welles watched it repeatedly as he prepared to make a little film called Citizen Kane (1941). Ford masterfully contrasts the claustrophobic interiors of the stagecoach and other dwellings, with the wide open spaces.

The Westerner (1940). Yup, Even William Wyler directed a Western. Course it didn't hurt none that he had Gary Cooper and Walter Brennan in the cast, two old and future hands at Cow Poke stories. This is the best of the many cinematic tellings of the story of Jude Roy Bean, with Brennan playing the ole cuss.

Westward the Women (1951). Women as western heroes? Yup. From director William Wellman comes the story about a wagon train of women and one fella (Robert Taylor) making their way west to marry up with some lonely settlers. It's chock full of adventure and human drama. Also features fine performances from a relatively anonymous cast, Taylor aside. If you ain't a seen it, do so, pronto.

The Naked Spur (1953). James Stewart as you've never seen him before. Or rarely anyway. He's one tough, borderline mean hombre, pushed by desperation to extrememe measures. Robert Ryan is the real bad guy here (there's someone who could really play mean) and Stewart wants to bring him in for the reward. He just might get the scrumptious Janet Leigh as a boobie prize (watch it!)

The Searchers (1956). Is this the best Western ever made or is Stagecoach? I'll call it a toss up. John Ford directed both. This is a beautifully told story with many layers. And it includes Wayne's best performance. For more on this masterpiece, see this post of mine from two years ago.

Ride the High Country (1962). Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott were veterans of Westerns when they co-starred in this Sam Peckinpah directed film. It seems at first a rescue story (Mariette Hartley is the damsel in distress) but turns into a morality tale. Gorgeous scenery and two leads at the essentially finishing their careers playing men finishing their careers.

Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). Will wonders never cease, Henry Fonda playing a low down dirty snake of a bad guy. In a spagehetti western no less. The director was Sergio Leone who was a master of the Pasta Oater. Fonda was an actor first and so had no trouble convincing audiences he was a rat. Charles Bronson is the hero.

McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971). Yes there's even a Western film with 1970's cinema sensibilities and it was directed by the iconclastic Robert Altman and starred, of all people, Warren Beatty. I told you that Westerns come in all shapes and sizes. Beatty is the McCabe of the title and the delicious Julie Christie is Mrs. Miller. At the very least its an intersesting Western and to many its superb film making.

Dances With Wolves (1990). If it hadn't gone an beaten out the vastly superior Goodfellas for the best picture Oscar, this sprawling Western from Kevin Costner wouldn't suffer the bad rap that plagues it today. It's got action, romance, wide vistas and the "Indians" as good guys. I unashamedly showed it as part of my US History curriculum for the zillion years I taught and the young us loved it. So did I.

True Grit (2010). Hokey smokes even the Coen Brothers made a Western.  And by gum they did a bang up job. It's a classic revenge story. Jeff Bridges is an ideal old west crumudgeon lawman and Haillee Steinfeld adds a twist as the super precocious teen seeking justice for Pa's murder. They didn't make Westerns like they used to it, until of all people, the Coens came along. Let's hope it brings the genre roaring back.

Lookey here for what other Westerns are worth a look or 12. Red River (1948), Shane (1953), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), The Wild Bunch (1969), Little Big Man (1970), The Iron Horse (1924), The Good the Bad and the Ugly (1966), The Man From Laramie (1955), The Ox Bow Incident (1943), My Darling Clementine (1946), The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), Dodge City (1939), Destry Rides Again (1939), Winchester 73 (1950),  Unforgiven (1992), High Noon (1952), Fort Apache (1948),The Long Riders (1980) and a bunch of others that I'm sure I'll catch hell for leavin' out.

Films Loved by Film Lovers

Someone recently suggested to me that I write a post about films loved by film lovers. I took the suggestion to mean that I discuss movies that cinemaphiles appreciate more than do casual fans. Despite appearances to the contrary, I am not nearly so pretentious to believe that I am worthy of such an undertaking. Then again I'm no shrinking violet either. I can't imagine that any poll exists which would suggest any answers and if one did I'm sure it would be most unscientific. The best anyone can do is guess. The least they can do is provide an educated guess.

To simplify a quite complicated enough matter I will stick to English language films in this post and provide a follow up post with foreign language picks later. Also I will restrict myself to one film per decade, starting from the 1920s.

In no instance am I suggesting that any one of these films is universally loved by every single movie aficionado, such a thing is impossible. And as will quickly become obvious, I have not picked any films lacking broad appeal. I merely mean to say that to the majority of those people to whom movies are more passion that diversion, these films are highly esteemed.

Truth be told that I'm basing these guesses (for that is what they truly are) on no research or study at all save that done unwittingly in reading about, hearing about and talking about movies for many years. What I believe distinguishes the films I have chosen is that they are all unique stories not limited by traditional story telling techniques.  They are all presented with either great verve or an especially light touch or a stylish one. That is, they are each damn good movies that defy or mix genres.

More so than usual, given the subjective nature of this task, I invite your comments.


20's Sunrise (1927). The positioning and movement of the camera have been done just as good but never better. German director FW Murnau crafted a beautiful story of a young couple whose marriage is threatened by a vamp and then a storm. The silent aspect of Sunrise (it was one of the last of the silent films) is particularly critical because there are few words on the screen to interrupt Murnau's grand visual experimentation.

30's City Lights (1931). Talking pictures were well into their fourth full year when Charlie Chaplin made another silent movie. Of all the nerve! But you wouldn't want City Lights with so much as a word uttered. Pathos has never been done better. The humor is on a par with the best of his earlier comedies. It is thus simple enough to lump City Lights with those earlier films, but the ending scene alone (one of the greatest closing sequences in any film) separates it from the pack.

40's The Third Man (1949). Carol Reed made some fine films before and after but nothing to approach this masterpiece. It is one of the most visually stunning films ever made. Post war Vienna looks utterly fascinating. The story is far beyond the garden variety noir or mystery and is matched not only by the performances of stars Joseph Cotton, Alida Valli, Trevor Howard and Orson Welles but by a wonderful, if anonymous, supporting cast.

50's A Streetcar Named Desire (1951). Audiences come for the bravura acting and stay for Elia Kazan's direction. Then they come back again to watch that amazing cast. Brando and Vivian Leigh give some of filmdom's most memorable performances but Kim Hunter and Karl Malden are not to be missed either. The performances and the screenplay based on the Tennessee Williams play are done justice by Kazan's expert direction.

60's The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). "Print the legend." John Ford made a lot of Westerns that are among the very best of the genre. This is one of them. There is so much more here than the good guy versus bad guy showdown. The story has the heft of Ford's best films with John Wayne at his best and Lee Marvin at his most sinister. The gravitas of Jimmy Stewart is also key.

70's Mean Streets (1973). A far cry from Martin Scorcese's recent efforts. His films of the last decade or so are glossy, slick productions. Mean Streets, his initial hit, is comparatively a rough first draft. But what a first draft! It's very rawness was admired upon its debut and still is today. While it set the tone for later Scorsese efforts it can stand alone as an important gangster picture.

80's Do the Right Thing (1989). Spike Lee's fearless challenge of racism makes more recent films such as the regrettable Crash(2006) look like bed time stories. There are neither heroes nor villains and certainly no stick figures in this story of one hot summer day in Brooklyn. There are also no easy answers but an invitation to ponder some of life's complexity.

90's Fargo (1996). The Coen Brothers have gradually convinced audiences that they are among the world's premier filmmakers and Fargo was an important point in their argument. Fargo is a sad, funny, tragic, exhilarating film filled with wonderful performances. Quirky has been done to death the past couple of decades, but Fargo is quirky with purpose. Frances McDormand starring turn is to be cherished.

00's Match Point (2005). Woody Allen directed some of the great comedies of the modern era, this is not one of them. Match Point is an ultra sophisticated crime/drama/romance/thriller. There's nothing to distinguish this as an Allen film other than the fact that it is really good.

Others: The Lady Eve (1941), Battleground (1949), The Crowd (1928), A Serious Man (2009), The Last Picture Show (1971), The Getaway (1972), Raging Bull (1980), Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), Sunset Blvd. (1950) and The Searchers (1956).

Coming up next, foreign language films loved by film lovers.

Better Know A Movie, Recommendations on Specific Aspects of Films to Appreciate

Step right up my friends I have right here for you absolutely free of charge some movie suggestions!

Now any schmuck with a film blog can recommend film choices, but I'm not just any schmuck (like I need to tell you!). I have for you a list of ten films that includes specific aspects of that film to look for.

Usually we enjoy a film, especially with our initial viewing, for its overall presentation. The cast, the photography, the sets, the editing, all blend into a pleasurable viewing experience. This is a good thing. But sometimes we miss a majestic tree or two in seeing the overall forest.

Here then are some tips on what to look for in ten well-known films representing different eras and genres.

The shadows in The Maltese Falcon (1941). Director John Huston was reportedly apoplectic when he heard that Ted Turner wanted to colorize this film.(The fact that Huston died shortly thereafter is apparently unrelated, but ya never know.) Good film noir has to be in black and white because so much of the stories rely on shadows. Maltese Falcon is a prime example. Look at how often they appear and how effectively mood and ambience is set and exploited. MF is one of the many films that points to the beauty of black and white and why in many, many movies its a better choice than color. Try not to focus too much on stars Humphrey Bogart or Mary Astor or the wonderful supporting cast, and just dig the look.

Edward G. Robinson in Double Indemnity (1944). The man put on an acting clinic and disproved any notion that he was only suited to play gangsters. He is at once so real a man and utterly ordinary and so compelling a character. He manages to elevate the film, enhance the story and yet not steal any scenes. He's easy to miss the first time or two you watch the film, but the more you see of it the more you appreciate Robinson and his importance to the film.

The backgrounds in The Third Man (1949). I love the dialogue and the zither music but I could literally watch The Third Man with the sound off. In fact, that might be a worthy exercise just to appreciate what's in the background. You'll not only see some incredible shots of bombed out Vienna, but the faces of the Viennese. They generally aren't pretty faces but really that wouldn't fit with the story and they're captivating to look at nonetheless.

The period detail in Zodiac (2007). The film was set in San Francisco in the late 1960's and 1970's, a time I was in the area. So I can say with a measure of authority that director David Fincher and company got the look to a tee. More than that they got the feel. It's one thing to replicate, quite another to capture. This is capturing. How one does that is beyond my limited knowledge of film making. All I can tell you is that if you want to know what it was like in these parts in them days, watch this film.

The interiors and exteriors of Stagecoach (1939). Any question about what made John Ford a great director can in part be answered by Stagecoach. Look at how he tells the story in great part by opening up the outdoors and making them impossibly vast (look at the screen entrance of The Ringo Kid -- John Wayne -- the background is forever). Then see how confining all the indoor shots are, particularly, of course, in the stagecoach. When you appreciate how a director tells a story, you better appreciate the story.

The transformation of Michael Corleone in The Godfather (1972). I devoted an entire blog post to this topic. It's provided some interesting discussions and is worth looking at again because its the central point to this, the greatest of all films. You can have fun discussing what you think is the catalyst for his change and of course, watching those key moments. It will also help you appreciate what a magnificent performance Al Pacino gave.

The camera angles and positions in Notorious (1946). Here's another topic I've previously covered in an entire blog post. There are many other Hitchcock films you can choose from but in terms of looking for how he used the camera to tell a story, this is the best.

The relationships in All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). It's perhaps the greatest anti war picture ever made and it works in large part because of how wonderfully it depicts human relationships. In the military, whether for the better or for the worse, relationships are critical. People are stuck together and often put into the horrifying spectacle of war together. That is to say the insane situation of killing other people. AQOTWF is all about how soldiers squabble, bond, play and fight together. How they rely on one another and love one another. It is thus all the more effectively heart breaking when many inevtiably perish.

The use of music in Goodfellas (1990). Director Martin Scorsese is the grandmaster of melding music into a story. In some cases he has the song in mind before he's even got the film in mind. He's especially effective with contemporary songs. Sometimes the song relates to the time period in the film, other times the lyrics accompany the action. But more often than not the tone of the music somehow just goes with the tone of the pictures. It has to be an instinct and it has to be done by the person with the vision of that story. To me Goodfellas is the absolute masterpiece of music working perfectly with what's on screen. Whether it's Tony Bennett, The Shangri-Las, Harry Nilsson or Sid Vicious, it works. Boy does it.

The timing in Sullivan's Travels (1941). Comedy is all about timing. Especially when it comes to dialogue. When you've got a particularly witty story with some sophisticated points to make, that timing is absolutely crucial. Witness the timing in Sullivan's Travels. Start with the first scene between Sullivan (Joel McCrea) and the movie execs. It's not just rapid fire, it's not just clever, it's perfectly timed. See Sullivan and the girl (Veronica Lake) or Sullivan and anyone else or any two or three or twelve people. Director Preston Sturges, who started as a screenwriter, was a master of timing, both with action and conversation. He was especially adept at combining the two, and with multiple characters. Just watch Sullivan's Travels and you'll know what I'm on about.

Part Two of Movies For Your Inner Leftist, That Are Suitable For All Political Persuasions

Without further ado I present the second of my two part look at movies that appeal to the leftist in me but that can be enjoyed by people of all political leanings. The premise was explained in part one which appeared on this blog Monday and is linked to this sentence.

Talk of the Town (1942). Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, Ronald Coleman star in this comedy from director George Stevens...Not so fast. Grant plays Leopold Dilg, a union agitator framed for arson and murder by the boss man. Coleman is supreme court nominee, Michael Lightcap who is intrigued by Dilg's passionate, if common sense view of the law and business. Lightcap is also stunned by the cavalier attitude towards the law held by a local judge. Jean Arthur provides most of the romance and comedy. It is in my mind the most underrated film of all time. It also has a very clear message about the abuses of big business, their often all to cozy relationship with the powers that be and the exploitation of workers. And as Dilg says: "What is the law? It's a gun pointed at somebody's head. All depends upon which end of the gun you stand, whether the law is just or not."

Grapes of Worth (1940). You must be familiar with the story. The people versus the cold hard establishment, usually represented by the police but most deadly in the form of greedy banks and exploitative farm owners. Wait a second...banks greedy? Land owners taking advantage of people? Henry Fonda as Tom Joad symbolizes the worker who's essentially mad as hell and unwilling to take it anymore. He's emboldened by this radical notion: "A fellow ain't got a soul of his own, just little piece of a big soul, the one big soul that belongs to everybody, then..." That sound downright socialist! Yes, Tom is a symbol as he himself says: "I'll be all around in the dark - I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look - wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build - I'll be there, too."

Bullworth (1998). An already liberal politician, Senator Bullworth (Warren Beatty) veers far left and adopts hip hop music and culture to convey his message. Why not? Having put a contract out on himself there's nothing to lose in telling the truth. That's right, the truth as he sees it. The rich are getting richer, the middle class poorer and the poor increasingly irrelevant to the rich and powerful. His screed is the progressive's manifesto of rapacious rich entrenching their power while marginalizing and exploiting the working class. Through characters portrayed by Halle Berry and Don Cheadle, we see the reality of life in the hood (anyone remember when America cared about the depressing cycle of poverty in African American inner city communities?). Sothe senator doesn't just tell, he shows.

The Mayor of Hell (1933). James Cagney is a former gangster who decides to reform a reformatory school. This is a no hold barred look at juvenile delinquents and the twin evils of corruption and cruelty to young men. With the help of an idealistic nurse, Cageny, supposedly a political appointment just around for show, puts the kids in charge. He correctly reasons that sparing the rod is a good thing if you replace it by vesting the young uns with responsibility. The Mayor of Hell, directed by Archie Mayo, is a cry for education reform and against old school discipline.

The Americanization of Emily (1964). To say it's an anti-war movie would be trivializing it's powerful message. Set during World War II and starring James Garner, James Coburn and Julie Andrews, on the surface TAOE is a romantic comedy. But a few listens to screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky's dialogue will fix that notion. To wit: "War isn't hell at all. It's man at his best; the highest morality he's capable of. It's not war that's insane, you see. It's the morality of it. It's not greed or ambition that makes war: it's goodness. Wars are always fought for the best of reasons: for liberation or manifest destiny. Always against tyranny and always in the interest of humanity. So far this war, we've managed to butcher some ten million humans in the interest of humanity. Next war it seems we'll have to destroy all of man in order to preserve his damn dignity. It's not war that's unnatural to us, it's virtue. As long as valor remains a virtue, we shall have soldiers. So, I preach cowardice. Through cowardice, we shall all be saved." See what I mean?

The Front (1976). Woody Allen plays a cashier at a deli who "fronts" for blacklisted writers during the height of McCarythyism. Allen is an apolitical nebbish always looking to make a buck, fronting for writers is as good a way as any. But as Allen sees first hand what the writers and a comic played by Zero Mostel are going through, he becomes politically aware and damn angry. Eventually he's called before the witch hunters at HUAC and a radical is born. Any ambiguity about the film's message will be cleared up the very last frame. Directed by Martin Ritt.

Other recommended titles of movies for progressives that the whole political spectrum can enjoy: Spartacus (1960), All the President's Men (1976), Heroes for Sale (1933), Missing (1982), The China Syndrome (1979), Holiday (1938), Malcolm X (1992), The Strawberry Statement (1970), M*A*S*H (1970), Born on the 4th of July (1989), Boyz n' the Hood (1991), Modern Times (1936), The Devil and Miss Jones (1941) and 12 Angry Men (1957).

What a Great Start! My Favorite Opening Movie Scenes (Part Two)

Last week I brought you the first of a three part look at some of my favorite opening scenes. As I said then a great opening is no guarantee of a great film and some of the best of movies develop slowly. (See that post for the full introduction.) The opening sequence of a film should not only capture our immediate attention but set the tone and mood for what is to come. Here are four more of my favorite opening scenes.

The Searchers (1956). Not without justification it is the closing scene of this John Ford film that has been widely celebrated throughout the years. But the opening bookends it perfectly. From complete darkness a door opens and the figure of a woman stands in silhouette. Slowly she moves forward looking out onto the bright colors of a rugged and picturesque countryside. She's looking at something though we can't see for sure what. Now the camera focuses on her from the front and we see that she is a handsome woman of middle age. Next, in the distance, we see what she's been looking at it. It's a man on horseback. The horse is meandering towards the house. She is joined on the porch by another man who asks "Ethan?" and walks past her to meet the horseman.

It's a beautiful opening and has us immediately curious about the man on the horse. Surely he is of great importance to these people. The movement from darkness to wide open spacious color sets the stage for the story about to be told. This is the scene to watch for students of any class entitled "John Ford Appreciation 101."

Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933). We open with a lavish musical number. Right smack in the depths of the Depression a huge stage production fully costumed of "We're in the money." A Busby Berkley extravaganza all the way. The lead singer is no less than Ginger Rogers. The spell is momentarily broken by a shot of the audience section where we see but one man (Ned Sparks). He's looking on with interest but seems a wee bit glum. A huge cigar is clenched between his teeth. All this is a rehearsal. But then its back on stage where there are girls, girls and more girls in elaborate costumes. Then its just Ginger again and what's this? She's singing the song in Pig Latin! Back to standard English and a very non standard lavish production number. Another shot of the audience. This time we see a few more people in the audience and the orchestra. But the real downer comes when a man with a badge leads a group into the theater to "collect." Everything must go. The creditors are closing the show! The set and costumes are being taken lock stock and barrel, sometimes for laughs.

So what is this anyway? A musical? A story about the Depression? A comedy? Yes on all counts. This first and best of the Gold Diggers film from director Mervin LeRoy wastes no time introducing us to all three of its aspects. We can't wait for what happens next. Will it be in Pig Latin?

To Be Or Not To Be (1942). As we watch placid street scenes in what is clearly a large city, a narrator tells us we are in Warsaw. He adds that it is August 1939 and Europe is still at peace. We know that the following month war would break out and Poland would be the first country to truly suffer, Warsaw included. This adds pathos to the scene. But our narrator's voice suddenly quickens with excitement and alarm as we see strolling citizens stop in their tracks and look in wonder. At what? We see cars stop, as the narrator says, "Are those Poles seeing a ghost? Why does this car suddenly top? Everybody seems to be staring in one direction. People seem to be frightened, even terrified, some flabbergasted. Can it be true? It must be true, no doubt. The man with the little moustache. Adolph Hitler." And yes, there he is, Der Fuhrer. All by himself in Warsaw. What the....? The narrator now explains that it all started in the Gestapo's Berlin headquarters and that's where the scene shifts. There ensues a rather odd scene with Jack Benny playing a Gestapo officer. Eventually Hitler enters the room and receives the obligatory "Heil Hitlers" answering with a "heil myself." At this farcical moment we see a man in a suit rise from a table and realize that we've just been watching a play rehearsal. We further realize that the Hitler in Warsaw was an actor.

Maybe they didn't have us going but they sure had us wondering. Part of the charm of this opening is that the film was made in 1942, as war raged throughout Europe and the world. To Be or Not to Be, from director Ernest Lubitsch and starring Carole Lombard along with Benny, manages to be funny about Nazis and the war while both are very much a going concern, so to speak. A seemingly impossible feat. The opening establishes this and prepares us for a wonderful satire.

Annie Hall (1976). The opening credits end and there's Woody Allen from the chest up looking right at us and he's just starting in on an old joke. It's a classic one too about an old lady complaining about bad food at a resort and her friend agreeing saying "and in such small portions." Allen explains that that's life. Full of misery and heartache and all over too quickly. Another couple of jokes and then Allen veers course by telling of his break up with Annie; it has clearly effected him deeply. He also talks about aging then segues into his childhood. As he talks about growing up in Brooklyn during World War II the scene shifts there. We see a young Allen and his mother.

At the time of its release Annie Hall was a revolutionary film in many ways not the least for the opening. Imagine the chutzpah of a star/writer/director to start a film by talking directly to the audience. It worked in large part because the star in question was a well known figure, initially famous for his work as a stand up comic. Allen's daring gambit succeeded wonderfully. We had met a funny and engaging character who obviously had a love story to relate, one we knew had ended. The story would further be full of humorous asides and nostalgic looks back. We were immediately interested and had a sense of what we were in for -- a classic film.

(Part three next week.)

Young Mr. Lincoln, How Ford (and Fonda) Met the Challenge

I watched Young Mr. Lincoln (1939) yesterday and I could only wonder what type of film it wold have been for a viewer who'd never heard of Abraham Lincoln.

Of course you're not likely to find such a person in the United States whose old enough and sane enough to appreciated a movie.

There are plenty of films based on actual events and/or people that some people watch ignorant of those actual events or real people. I sheepishly confess to not having known a thing about James Whale before seeing Gods and Monsters (1998). An argument over whether it is preferable to know a little, a lot or nothing about events and people in films can make for an interesting parlor game. The short answer is that it depends on the subject matter. It may be a topic worth exploring in the future.

But when the topic is Lincoln there's no use kidding ourselves. Audiences know at the least the outlines of his story and have generally formed an opinion on him and usually its quite favorable.

So the challenge for the great director John Ford in making a film about someone of Lincoln's pre presidential years was impressive. Although based on what I know of Ford he wouldn't have viewed it as anything special. He certainly would not have allowed publicly that it was a daunting task.

The risk in telling a story about so iconic an American figure is not to pile on to the mythologizing. He is perhaps America's most revered historical figure. More so than either Washington or Jefferson, both of whom are forever tainted to many because of their ownership of slaves. Lincoln of course was The Great Emancipator. (I'd gotten so much about Lincoln by the time I was about six or seven that once in bed with the lights out I feared that his ghost, stovepipe hat and all, lurked in my closet.)

Ford talked Henry Fonda into taking the role. Fonda was reluctant, quite rightly arguing that it was akin to playing God himself. As it turned out he was right to take the role and probably could have played God too, if he'd a mind too. He was a much better Lincoln than Raymond Massey who played him in Abe Lincoln in Illinois (1940). Massey was good but he was acting, Fonda became Lincoln. (Some Lincoln scholars have noted that, based on contemporary reports, Lincoln's voice was much closer to Fonda's than Massey's).

Okay so how do I justify writing, and with italics no less, that Fonda became Lincoln? First of all while I'm no spring chicken I am not old enough to have met Honest Abe. But when you've read as much as I have about Lincoln (you can't do much better than Doris Kearns Goodwins, Team of Rivals) I believe you've earned some license in intuiting what a person was like. But really to be raised in this country is to be immersed in Lincoln and have a sense of him so I suppose we're all allowed. In any event, Fonda got the manner, the posture and darn near anything else related to Lincoln you can think of.

So that's a good start. But it was still up to Ford to ensure that the movie did not do either of two things: 1) Conflict with the zeitgeist of Lincoln; or 2) Be mawkish and overly sentimentalized.

Young Mr. Lincoln follows Abe in his early days as a Springfield lawyer. Culminating in his successful defense of accused murderers. Events have been embellished, altered, even outright made up. But that's okay because this film is about a man. At the very least the spirit of the man. Ford knew that the best way to present a character, particularly one so famous, was to focus on events and supporting players. He had audiences looking at the man in contrast to what and who swirled around him.

Yes, there are camera shots and set pieces that emphasize Lincoln's stature, but he was clearly a man of presence so that was appropriate. Plus it is part of Ford's film-making style.

Ford and Fonda's Lincoln is a witty, humble, down home charmer. He is a contemplative man. But he also cheats at tug-of-war and is an indecisive pie contest judge and a terrible dancer. He's Lincoln not God.

Best of all he's not long winded. Ford never liked giving his stars too many lines. This belief was a positive boon in telling a story about Lincoln. Many directors wouldn't have been unable to resist having the great orator prattle on. Ford let other characters talk and have screen time. This helped make Lincoln stand out when he acted and spoke.

So we watch a film about Lincoln, knowing what we do and nothing can change that. We're really not going to learn many new "facts" or "information" about the man, at least not in this film. Lincoln the myth will remain in tact, indeed it will be affirmed. Young Mr. Lincoln is a comforting movie in that respect. But perhaps more importantly we are entertained. The film sure looks like the Midwest America in the 1830's. Fonda sure looks and acts like we think Lincoln did. We get an engaging story told by a masterful director.

I can't think of anything else you'd want.

What's It To You? The Different Ways of Viewing the Same Film

I couldn't believe I missed it. Because the starting time of youngest daughter's graduation was moved back and because it then ran for three hours and because my destination was so far away, I missed it. I missed a party I'd looked forward to for nine months. It was the year end party held by the faculty of the school I used to work at. Most of my former colleagues, many of whom I'd not seen since late last Summer were there and I was to be honored for my 20 years of service to the school. But circumstances conspired and I missed it.

What did it mean?

For the two weeks since then I've tried to derive meaning from failing (through not fault of my own) to make it to the party. I could simply decide that it was the bad fortune of two important events overlapping and, though it was a crying shame, had no further significance.

But no, I must find meaning, import, symbolism. Clearly this was open to interpretation.

So it is with films. I wrote about this in a post yesterday about Holiday (1938) a supposed romantic comedy that I view as an attack on the moneyed class and an endorsement of people "finding themselves."

The true magic of art is that the same example of it can mean different things to different people. I don't know if this is especially true of films but it most definitely is true of films. I've never be one to disabuse someone of their notion of what a particular movie means; however we should all be ready and most willing to share our perspectives.

It's also interesting to note that our own interpretations of a film can change from one viewing to the next, often depending upon our state of mind when we see it.

I first saw Sunset Boulevard (1950) as a horror story. That creepy house, the monkey burial, the way Norma Desmond talked and walked. Next I viewed it as a indictment of Hollywood. Another viewing convinced me I was watching a story about how desperate people sometimes find one another and form a symbiotic relationship that can destroy both hosts.

That's what makes a film a classic. You can view it countless times and each time see it as if through a different prism.

I find that many of favorite films have myriad layers. The Searchers (1956), The Godfather (1972) and Jules and Jim (1962) are examples of films that give me something new each time. I love The Sting (1973) but haven't watched it nor wanted to watch it in years. I've exhausted its possibilities.

Most of my favorite foreign films, and particularly those from France, and most particularly those from Francois Truffaut are worth repeat viewings just to derive something new each time. Part of this is the subtlety of the work. Characters are less mannered in a lot of French cinema. Stories are less reliant on action scenes. Plot points are more carefully developed.

As an audience we intuit more in our initial viewings, then start to discover more "facts" relevant to the story. We can even be influenced in subsequent viewings by reviews we've since read or conversations with others about the film or, in the case of movies based on real events, from having learned about the "real story." We can also come to feel comfortable with the characters, as I have, for example with The Searchers' Ethan Edwards.

With I Loved You For So Long (2008), I was struck the first time by the amazing performances, particularly from Kristin Scott Thomas. I was also curious to watch the story unfold. When I saw the same film again I was able to watch how the story unfolded and, though still blown way by the acting, paid closer attention to how those great performers related to each other. Consequently I saw the movie in a different light, which I can't go into without spoiling the ending.

Of course knowing how a story is going to turn out strips away a distraction, so that with subsequent viewings we're able to focus on other aspects of the story. It's not always easy to appreciate camera angles and dolly shots when you're sweating out what's going to happen to the hero.

Today I watched John Ford's My Darling Clementine (1946) for the third time in a year and found myself struck by how beautiful a film it is. There's an amazing shot just before the shootout of dawn breaking, we watch the light come up simultaneous with seeing Old Man Clanton raise his head. His face goes from darkness to full light, dominating the frame. It's Walter Brennan's face, big as life and its a great shot.

So if someone asked me about the film right now I'd talk about some of the camera shots whereas as few months ago I'd have gone on about something else, such as Fonda's performance. It's actually quite common to to be initially taken in by the actors and later appreciate the director's part in the film. I almost never hear anyone rave about Michale Curtiz, the director, when they talk about Casablanca (1942) and that's a great injustice. Curtiz did a remarkable job, something that has become increasingly evident to me.

So which is it? Is All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) an anti-war film, or a study of very young men in extraordinary circumstances? Is Do the Right Thing (1989) a look at latent racism, or the impossibility of living up to its title? Is Wings of Desire (1987) a celebration of life or a meditation on death? And is Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men (2007) supposed to represent death, pure evil or is he just one bad ass killer? And what sticks out, is it Javier Bardem, the cinema photography or the Coens' attention to detail?

I'll put it thusly: When I was a history teacher and would give a test I would always include an opinion question at the end. "How can there be a wrong answer to an opinion question?" I'd often be asked. "There are no wrong answers." I would reply. "But you will only get credit if your answer is well thought out and if you can offer some evidence for it."

So it is with films. There are no wrong interpretations. But you owe it to yourself to think it through. And, oh by the way, be prepared to have a whole new interpretation next time.

You Know You Really Like A Director If... (Part Three)

Part three of what was supposed to be an occasional series but has turned out to be a weekly one on my favorite directors. This week: John Ford.

Gruff, macho, no nonsense. John Ford was a man's man. To some he was a miserable ole cuss, to others always a beloved father figure. That would, at least seem, to be the accepted view. Many further believe that Ford made manly films that were soon dated. Nonsense. Ford's film's were rife with nuance, subtlety and ambiguity and they have aged like fine wine.

What was the relationship between Ethan and his brother's wife in The Searchers? What was Ford saying about legends at the end of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance? Was Fort Apache an indictment of Custer and the notion that being white makes American warriors right?

Ford's films had humor and romance, and it was never simple pablum to be suffered as a side dish with the action at the story's core. In fact, the action itself was never at the core of Ford's films. The action was often the diversion, the means to get to deeper truths. Ford's films were so many wonderful little parts and the sum was almost always something very special.

What Ford did so masterfully was to tell very human stories with expansive backdrops. His oft used shooting locale of Monument Valley was the primary example of how he took films out of studios and drew on an infinitely broader expanse. It was like painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel rather than on a conventional sized canvas. His films were visual delights. Endless horizons, stunning sunsets, huge cloud formations and valleys stretching like his vast imagination.

I think it is quite misleading to state that Ford directed a lot of Westerns. The West did provide a picturesque tableau for many of his films, but his films were not conventional stories with shootouts and men in black hats. Yes, he had the cavalry famously ride to the rescue in Stagecoach, but it started the trend and was not a cliche.

Ford has also been unfairly maligned for supposed racism because of the manner in which his film's treated Native Americans. But Ford often cast a critical eye on the way Natives suffered at the hands of whites. His look at racism in The Searchers was revelatory. Indeed, Ford often showed great respect for Natives and their traditions and rituals.

Indeed traditions and rituals played a large part in Ford's films. His depiction of ceremonies and families were one more way to explore the human condition. In fact, I'd argue that Ford used his films to celebrate people. Yeah, the supposed ole cuss was a softy at heart.

Here are my ten favorite Ford films:

The Searchers (1956). A much revered film that deserves its exalted status. The film features John Wayne's best performance. This is one of the most exquisitely and innovately shot films of all time. For more see my recent post.

Stagecoach (1939). One of Ford's most influential films. It's a road picture with a company of diverse sorts riding the same stagecoach with "hostile Injuns" on the loose. There's an alcoholic doctor (Thomas Mitchell), a disgraced lady of suspicious character (Claire Trevor), a banker trying to run off with a small fortune (Berton Churchill) a riverboat gambler (John Carradine) and of course the Ringo Kid (John Wayne). Great adventure and a great study of characters.

The Grapes of Wrath (1940). One of the most powerful looks at an epoch ever made. It's the Great Depression, and to make matters worse, the horrific Dust Bowl has laid waste to America's Great Basin. Tom Joad is released from prison just in time to join his family's migration from Oklahoma to the promised land -- California. What they find there is not so promising. You'd think a leftist rabble rouser had made this film, but no, it was the supposedly conservative Ford.

My Darling Clementine (1946). I doubt we'll ever see a better film version of the famous shootout at the O.K. Corral. Fonda is the perfect Earp and Walter Brennan's Old Man Clanton is one of the meanest varmints ever to appear on screen. However, the film really shines in its depiction of sibling fealtym and in the subplots involving the story's two women, played by Cathy Downs and Linda Darnell.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). There's nothing like an occasional visit to Shinbone, the fictional town that provides this film's setting. Lee Marvin is the title character and a meaner snake in the grass never existed. Jimmy Stewart is the aspiring lawyer who shoots him -- or does he? And John Wayne is aboard for perhaps his quintessential Wayne performance. See my post from last Summer for more.

Young Mr. Lincoln (1939). A wonderful, if largely fictionalized look at...you guessed it, Abraham Lincoln as a young lawyer. Fonda made for an excellent Lincoln (come to think of it, can't think of anyone who played ole Honest Abe any better). A story both charming and illuminating that captures the essence of Lincoln's homespun wit and wisdom.

The Lost Patrol (1934). I posted about this film last year and the manner in which what looks like a war film is in fact a horror story. And a good one at that. Victor McLaglen gets to play the lead for once and is excellent. Boris Karloff (told you it was a horror story) is a bible-quoting soldier who cracks under pressure and goes nuts. Set in the Mesopotamian Desert during World War I.

Fort Apache (1948). Fonda is the Custer-like Colonel Thursday who leads an ill-planed and ill-fated charge against a huge war party with unsurprising results. Fonda's performance is letter perfect as the prim and proper officer who longs for glory, damn the risks. A look at how heroes are made at the expense of a little truth.

The Hurricane (1937). On the surface this is not your typical Ford fare. A forbidden romance in the South Seas with cruel injustice and oh by the way a hurricane. But it still explores some of Ford's oft visited themes. Dorothy Lamour and John Hall are the lovers. The excellent cast includes Mary Astor, Raymond Massey and C. Aubrey Smith.

The Informer (1935). McLaglen is the lead one more time, this time as an Irish rebel who rats out a friend for 20 pounds. Oh sure, he has his reasons and those are explored along with the consequences of his act. A deep, thoughtful story that earned Ford his first of four Best Director Oscars.

Can I Help You Find Something?

"A film is -- or should be -- more like music than fiction. It should be a progression of mood and feelings." -Stanley Kubrick.

By the dictates of narratives, a story, whether on paper or film, needs to have a certain basic structure. There must be characters at least some of whom should be fully drawn and three dimensional. There is generally a beginning in which a situation and one or more characters are introduced. There is usually a middle in which the story's central conflict is played out. And there is a climax in which a resolution is reached. But that is not the be all and and all of a story. As Kubrick suggests, how the story is told can reveal as much even more than plot points.

Kubrick's quote refers to some of the better films ever made, including a few of his own directorial efforts. Like lyrics to a beautiful song, a film's story line can serve as an accompaniment to a great film.

A really good director can take an ordinary story and make it into a compelling movie. Give him a ripping good yarn and you may have yourself a masterpiece. Like let's say, John Ford's The Searchers (1956).

I watched it yesterday and the degree to which it gets better with each viewing suggests that some day it will crack my top ten.

The Searchers is a multi layered story that explores such themes as racism, revenge and obsession. I once heard someone dismiss it as a 'western' which is like saying that The Godfather (1972) is a "gangster flick."

The visual style of The Searchers is a rather clear case of Ford at his best. Filmed in Vista Vision. To not watch it in wide screen would be like listening to The London Philharmonic on a transistor radio. The Searchers was filmed at Ford's home away from home, Monument Valley and it is utterly gorgeous. If they shot it on back lot it would have been a B picture. In The Searches scenery is story -- especially as it contrasts to Ford's trademark claustrophobic interiors.

John Wayne and the under appreciated Jeffrey Hunter are the two searchers. Other than playing some guy named Jesus in The King of Kings (1961), Hunter never had either a role in any way comparable. And other than The Longest Day (1962) was never in another particularly noteworthy film. It's a shame because he gives a solid performance. The surprise is Wayne who tended to saunter and bluff and gruff his way through most roles. His Ethan Edwards is uber macho but ultimately a vulnerable and redeemable bigot. Wayne gives Edwards equal parts ugliness and redemption.

Like most classics, The Searchers is chock full of wonderful supporting players. Ward Bond, who showed up in a couple dozen of America's best films, gives his best performance as Reverend Captain Samuel Johnston Clayton. Usually strong and silent, here he's strong and noisy as hell. Hank Worden is wonderfully eccentric as Mose Harper, the man who thanked people for telling him to shut up and just wanted a rocking chair out of life. John Qualen, another regular in some terrific films, is on hand along with Vera Miles, Olive Carey and of course, the object of the search, Natalie Wood. Wood improved any film she was in just by showing that lovely puss of hers.

The Searchers is wonderfully bookended by the opening and the closing of a door. In both instances the camera looks out the door from within the house onto John Wayne. Behind Wayne is that scenery. My God the whole movie is like that. Shot after shot that tells the story better than any words could.

The first time I watched the Searchers I wasn't all that impressed probably because I listened to it more than watched it. It was probably a full screen version that compresses and veritably blurs the picture. Now I've got one of those digitally remastered DVD versions that is sumptuous. Some day I hope to see it on the big screen (any theater owner want to screen it for me?).

The Indians in The Searchers are Comanches and are not depicted much better by Ford than any other Hollywood director ever did. They're murderous bastards (the truth of the matter is that there were Native Americans in previous centuries who would just a soon massacre you as look at you, then again, sometimes maybe whitey had it coming). But this time the whites are hardly any better, particularly the iconic Wayne. What a notion! Wayne's bigotry (or at least that of his character, Ethan Edwards) is right out there in plain sight and its not pretty nor meant to me. He'd kill a white woman in cold blood who'd been "ruined" by "laying with" a native. Even if she's his niece. This was in 1956 when movies in particular and American culture in general were many years away from acknowledging their racism.

While this story line is right out there in the open, there are subtleties and nuances to the film as well. Take for instance the relationship between Ethan and his sister-in-law. Those are pretty telling glances they exchange. And what's with all that money he's got, and just where the hell was he for the three years between the end of the Civil War and the start of our story?

Plenty of talking points and its all worth watching because of the manner, as Kubrick put it, the moods and feelings progress. I don't know if The Searchers influenced him but it did many other great directors from Scorsese to Spielberg.

I think I'll go watch it again.

"Maybe one guy with a million acres and a hundred thousand farmers starvin'. And I been wonderin' if all our folks got together and yelled..."

Who's to blame?

It's an essential question, perhaps the essential question to the angry wronged person. We want to know who's responsible. We then may be able to demand recompense or a punishment befitting the wrong doing. Or maybe we'll at least now where to direct our anger.

Watch the frustration of the dispossessed in John Ford's The Grapes of Wrath (1940). Surely the man behind the tractor, preparing to level the home is not to blame. He is, after all, merely in the employ of a company assigning him this dirty work. And by the way, that dirty work will allow him to feed his family. It is though economic times and he can't be blamed for making a buck where he can.

So, okay its not his fault, who's then? The bank? And where exactly are they and who within the bank may one direct their ire? But is not a bank comprised of many people who as a group act in the interests of the bottom line and are not able to afford such luxuries as compassion?

Maybe the government. But the government is the people and we are the people. Surely no elected official would assume responsibility nor even a body of representatives.

We see throughout the story that the police are placed in the role of the heavy. But they are merely the muscles of the law. As heartless as they may may be, they are in the service of maintaining order in a society sorely in need of it.

So the Joads and the many others of America's Central Plains who were victims of both the Great Depression and the cruel effects of the Dust Bowl must push on. Suffering equal parts sorrow and anger, tempered by the hope that keeps the fires of the human spirit burning through the coldest winters. They push on.

Most people need to know why. Why they have lost their homes, their livelihood, perhaps even loved ones. Sure they'll keep trying to make the best of things. But in the mean time answer them this: why are we made to suffer so? And what can we do about it? Don't tell a person there is nothing to be done. A person who is powerless is helpless and defeated. Tom Joad, for one, can't accept that. At the end of the film he vows to find out. He tells his Ma: "maybe I can just find out somethin', just scrounge around and maybe find out what it is that's wrong and see if they ain't somethin' that can be done about it. I ain't thought it out all clear, Ma. I can't. I don't know enough."

If he can just find out "somethin,'" he'll surely feel better. Because he just doesn't "know enough." Information is power. A person armed with information is far deadlier than one armed with a gun. The suffering of people can make for an epic tragedy but the story takes another much more powerful dimension when there are those like Tom Joad who ask: why?

There are some obvious and clear enemies in The Grapes of Wrath such as employers who'll not pay a living wage because they can get away with and because they know its better than nothing and hell there are thousands of others who'll take the pay if you won't. And then there are the employees and cops who'll call anyone who questions them "a Red." And say, Tom wants to know, just what is "a Red," anyway? Maybe its something you call someone to divert people from hearing what they're saying. If you don't like the message, kill the messenger, a much used and cowardly tactic of the powerful.

The Grapes of Wrath is an amazingly radical film (which is particularly odd given that it was directed by the relatively conservative john Ford). It's strikingly anti authoritarian. It is a rallying cry for people to band together and question and challenge anyone in power, to not meekly accept their lot.

It's also a clarion call for a united front of the people to challenge the faceless bureaucracy that oppresses them. For as Tom says: "fellow ain't got a soul of his own, just little piece of a big soul, the one big soul that belongs to everybody.... " One big soul. What a mighty force for change that can be. What a radical notion. What a scary thought for those powers that be.

Perhaps Tom's parting words to his mother say it all: "Then it don't matter. I'll be all around in the dark - I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look - wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build - I'll be there, too."

If not, surely these words by Ma Joad do capture the spirit of the film: "Rich fellas come up an' they die, an' their kids ain't no good an' they die out. But we keep a'comin'. We're the people that live. They can't wipe us out; they can't lick us. We'll go on forever, Pa, 'cause we're the people."

A people bowed but not broken. A people made to suffer for years of government neglect and greed and service to businesses and the rich. But a blame so diffused its hard to figure out just exactly where to direct that anger.

The Grapes of Wrath (based, of course, on John Steinbeck's novel) is not incidentally one of the most visually stunning films ever made. It also features a fantastic cast led by Henry Fonda as Tom and Jane Darwell as Ma. The film hasn't aged a day since its debut. If anything, given the times we live in, its fresher than ever.

No Escaping Politics, Not Even in a Classic Western

There is no escaping conservative gasbags railing about government meddling and high taxes.

I thought I was safe watching a John Ford film today. Safe from crybaby Republicans yammering about government regulations while secretly picking our pockets. No such luck.

Stagecoach (1939) is the story of nine very disparate characters riding on a stagecoach into the teeth of Geronimo's war party. You've got such characters as Dallas (Claire Trevor) the shamed prostitute booted out of town. Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell the shamed town drunk similarly asked to hit the road. The Ringo Kid (John Wayne) a fugitive from justice. Hatfield (John Carradine) the gentleman gambler. Samuel Peacock (Donald Meek) the mild mannered whiskey salesman returning to his family. And then there's Henry Gatewood (Berton Churchill) the bank president absconding with the payroll. If you guessed that the crooked businessman is our blustering reactionary, you win the Kewpie doll. (He's pictured above getting busted.)

My oh, oh my you should hear this self righteous, bloviating pompous swindler go on. He complains of taxes. He complains of government regulations. He insists on this and demands that. He looks down on drunks, whores, Indians and Mexicans and anyone else not up to his lofty standards. All the while there's a bag full of ill gotten loot sitting on his lap. Here are his own words:

I don't know what the government is coming to. Instead of protecting businessmen, it pokes its nose into business! Why, they're even talking now about having *bank* examiners. As if we bankers don't know how to run our own banks! Why, at home I have a letter from a popinjay official saying they were going to inspect my books. I have a slogan that should be blazoned on every newspaper in this country: America for the Americans! The government must not interfere with business! Reduce taxes! Our national debt is something shocking. Over one billion dollars a year! What this country needs is a businessman for president!

Sound like a certain political "philosophy"?

Director John Ford was known as a bit of a conservative himself but at a time when the right wing, as dead wrong as they were, gave respectable arguments for their positions not laced in hyperbole and hypocrisy. Ford often had corrupt characters such as Gatewood who got their comeuppance. Indeed the FDR years were not only unkind to practitioners of rapacious capitalists in business, the films of those years also made their ample girths a target. (Looks like I've set myself up for a future post, movies versus the super rich in the FDR years...coming soon?)

Despite the reminder of the government-loathing right wingers, I thoroughly enjoyed today's viewing of Stagecoach, one of my all time favorites films.

Ford's camera work during the indoor scenes is particularly noteworthy, especially how he contrasts those cramped scenes with the wide open paces of Monument Valley. The cast is exceptional, especially Mitchell and Trevor though I think George Bancroft as the Marshall gives an underrated performance. He is actual the strong center of the nine travelers. Not stained by scandal, not weak, not quirky. A man determined to do what's right, even if it means stretching the law. He's essential to the success of the film and Bancroft couldn't be better.

Look here, if you've never seen Stagecoach, you've got an assignment for the weekend. if you've enjoyed it, re-visit this extraordinary film. Just beware you may be reminded of those noxious conservative blowhards.

12 Movies From the Last Depression to Help You Through the Next Depression

Is another Great Depression just around the corner? Or is prosperity? Who cares? If the bottom totally falls out of the U.S. economy maybe will see some of the same kind of great cinema that both mirrored and helped America through the last such crisis.

As the Depression took a toll on the US through much of the 1930's Hollywood was Johnny-on-the-spot with a passel of films reflecting the crisis. These same movies often eased the cares of struggling Americans. Here's a sampling of that wonderful fare.

1. My Man Godfrey (1936). The ultimate Great Depression screwball comedy stars William Powell and Carole Lombard. Powell is Godfrey "rescued" from a hobo village to serve as butler in Lombard's wealthy but wacky family. A bit of social commentary gets mixed in with the laughs.
2. Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933). The ultimate Great Depression musical. This Busby Berkeley choreographed film play up the forgotten man theme adding great songs and comedy in the bargain. A stellar cast is led by Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler and Joan Blondell. Thrill to the strains of Ginger Rogers singing "We're in the Money" in pig latin.
3. Grapes of Wrath (1940). No laughs or songs here. This John Ford classic is a superb film adaptation of John Steinbeck's novel about Okies escaping the Dust Bowl for what they hope will be a new and improved life in California. Henry Fonda is Tom Joad. His closing speech is one of cinema's great moments.
4. Sullivan's Travels (1941). Preston Stuges wrote and directed this hilarious spoof of Hollywood. It also takes a look at the depression. Joel McCrea stars as a famous film director who wants to see how the other half lives. He befriends the lovely Veronica Lake. The two take to the rails where lessons are learned and laughs abound.
5. I Am A Fugitive Form A Chain Gang (1932). Mervin LeRoy directed this scathing look at a Southern state's prison system. Paul Muni is the escapee. While the film focuses on a morally corrupt criminal justice system it is also a powerful look at the depression. As effective today as it was upon its release. Based on a true story.
6. Wild Boys of the Road (1933). One of the classic pre code message films. Here the focus is on the how the depression ripped families asunder. Youngsters leave home to be less a burden on the family and perhaps help support them. William Wellman did was masterful directing a cast of relative unknowns. Why don't they make more movies like this today?
7. Stella Dallas (1937). The quintessential tear jerker stars Barbara Stanwyck as the title character. Stella is a single mom who sacrifices everything for her daughter in already tough times.
8. Rafter Romance (1933). Ginger Rogers and Norman Foster play roommates -- but its not how you think. They share a bed but not at the same time. One works a night shift the other the day. The story is predictable but fun.
9. Modern Times (1936). What's a little economic down turn without The Little Tramp? The inimitable Charlie Chaplin wrote, directed and starred opposite Paulette Goddard in his last silent feature (there's sound but no yakking). The two find love amid poverty, homelessness, prison, and tedious jobs. Their dreams, love and pluck see them through.
10. Easy Living (1937). Preston Stuges wrote, Mithcell Leisen directed, Jean Arthur, Ray Milland and Edward Arnold star. Joblessness, high finance and sudden wealth are all explored. Laughs are provided and romance wins out. Not only a diverting little comedy but some keen commentary as well.
11. Possessed (1931). It stars Joan Crawford and Clark Gable early in their careers when they were particularly attractive Crawford is from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks and is determined to join Gable on the other side. She quickly manages that feat but complications ensue.
12. Heroes For Sale (1933). Another powerful Wellman film. Heroes looks at the effects of the Depression on one man in particular and thousands in general. One of the most underrated films of all time.

Visiting Shinbone

Meet some of my old friends: Dutton Peabody, Cassisus Starbuckle, Link Appleyard, Doc Willoughby, Pompey, Ransom Stoddard and Tom Doniphon. I like to hang out with them for a couple of hours every so often. They all live in a movie called The Man who Shot Liberty Valance. Mr. Valance is there too but doesn't make for such good company.
This 1962 John Ford film is peopled with colorful characters, all given free reign by the director to emote, evoke and elucidate. It's a damn entertaining story with themes aplenty ranging from the civilizing of the old west to the preeminence of legend in Americana. In the person of the title character there was one of cinema's most starkly drawn villains. You'll find no nuance to Lee Marvin's performance, he is pure black-hat-wearing bad guy and audiences just can't wait for the varmint to be shot deader than a mackerel.
There is far more subtlety and ambiguity to, of all people, John Wayne's performance as Doniphon. He's a wise cracking good guy who believes that justice should be administered from the barrel of a gun and never mind your fancy law books, pilgrim. He's also a man in love whose heart is easily broken. Clearly Doniphon wants to believe in the better angels of our nature but knows to believe in his rifle. Jimmy Stewart as Stoddard is the story's sane and sober centerpiece he bookends the movie as a highly respected politician most recently of the US Senate but at its core is an idealistic young lawyer trying to introduce -- more like force -- civilization into the west.
Edmund O'Brien who played a lot of lot drab middle aged white men in his time, is a revelation as the editor of Shinbone Star (what a great name for a newspaper!) and a grandiloquent drunk (O'Brien was similarly wonderful seven years later in The Wild Bunch). Drunk too is the town doctor, Doc Willoughby regally realized by Ken Murray. Andy Devine is the cowardly marshall, Link Appleyard (what a great name for a law man!). The cast also includes Denver Pyle, Strother Martin, Lee Van Clef, John Qualen, the lovely Vera Miles and Woody Storde as Pompey. Strode was a fine actor as evidenced in this film and as the heroic but doomed gladiator in Spartacus. Yes it is an amazing cast and it proves there are are no small parts only small actors.
What's it about? If you have to ask you need to rent this fine film soonest and enjoy!
I had the pleasure of spending two hours with this amazing group of people out in Shinbone today. As always I enjoyed it very much. I appreciate the story they have to tell, the morals to be learned from them, the history of the old west they relate but mostly just being around them is a delight (except for that bastard Valance -- hate him). I thank John Ford for bringing them together. I already look forward to my next visit.

The Horror, The Horror

So it's a horror movie with Boris Karloff in it, what's the big deal?
It's not what you think. It's John Ford's "The Lost Patrol" from 1934 and its ostensibly about a British army patrol in the deserts of Mesopotamia during World War I that gets, as the title suggests, lost.
There are no monsters, there is no supernatural but it has all the classic apsects of the horror genre. From virtually the first shot of the movie (no pun intended) members of the patrol are picked off by unseen snipers. These killers are not seen until the closing moments of the film and at that point their faces are obscured. Those not killed early on are pushed near or into madness by the desperation of their situation and the manner their comrades keep dropping like flies.
Victor McLaglen (who in real life served the British army in that war in that locale) is excellent in the lead role playing the troop's sergeant. Karloff is creepy as one of his charges, an evangelical Christian who starts losing the few marbles he has with a predictable but nonetheless poignant result. Reginald Denny also features. Film buffs are more accustomed to seeing Denny as the cocktail swilling raconteur in an expensive suit. He shines here especially when giving a soliloquy on his life. The ubiquitous Alan Hale has a relatively small role.
In many respects it is director Ford who stars. As with most of his films the phogrpahy is dramatic and expressive without a wasted shot.
The Lost Patrol is a very real and very scary movie that comments not merely on war but the manner in which people respond to situation of real life horror.
Imagine, a horror film disguised as a war movie.