Late Summer Western #8: Rio Bravo **** (1959)

One of the ultimate "hangout" movies, Rio Bravo consists mostly of dialogue and brief moments of intense action. Quentin Tarantino has repeatedly cited Rio Bravo as having a substantial influence on his film education.  The influence shows in Quentin's films, with their preference for dialogue punctuated by action instead of the reverse. An unconventional Western, Rio Bravo dares to immerse movie goers in character study and nuance.

John Wayne is Sheriff John T. Chance, a seasoned officer of the law attempting to hold a dangerous man in jail, the brother of a local strong man. To help him, Chance recruits his former deputy and struggling alcoholic "Dude" (Dean Martin), a young gunfighter Colorado (Ricky Nelson), and his cranky friend Stumpy (Walter Brennan). When not attending to business, Chance flirts with Feathers (Angie Dickinson), a saloon gambler. The premise is one Hawks would revisit in two other movies El Dorado (1967) and his final picture Rio Lobo (1970).

On the Blu-Ray Commentary Track film critic Richard Schickel and director John Carpenter speak at length on the "Hawks" style. Carpenter has cited Rio Bravo as a major influence on his own films, especially his 1976 cult film Assault on Precinct 13. The premise, what modern critics would call a siege narrative, features a group of people facing overwhelming odds in a claustrophobic setting.

Carpenter praised how Hawks favored simple shots and compositions, a style that allowed the story to unfold in a naturalistic way. Schickel alluded to Rio Bravo being a response to television, a medium Hawks found to be simplistic due to its clipped narratives that favored economy over in depth story telling. Hawks also wanted to make a statement about the 1952 classic film High Noon, a film he considered to be a ludicrous study of courage.  Hawks was more concerned with how professionals handled a tense situation.

Rio Bravo feels claustrophobic, but not in a negative way. It's a breeze to spend time with these characters.  There's Leigh Brackett's pulpy dialogue, an unforegettable scene of Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson crooning "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me," and the measured tone throughout.


Rio Bravo gains resonance after repeated viewings.  Wayne carries the film with ease, while the supporting cast provides comic relief and poignancy to the story.  A film that can be appreciated on many levels: the acting and direction, it's attitude towards violence and ethics in the Old West, and its influence on subsequent filmmakers.

Late Summer Western #7: Seraphim Falls ***1/2 (2006)

Starring Liam Neeson (Carver) and Pierce Brosnan (Gideon), Seraphim Falls is a tale of revenge and redemption set a few years after the Civil War.  Both stars deliver stoic performances as two men on both sides of the same coin.  For reasons unknown, Carver intends to kill Gideon, searching him to the ends of the earth. With a posse in tow, Carver chases Gideon through the harsh environs of the frontier. The film begins as an adventure story.  As the film moves along the landscape changes from snowy mountains to arid deserts, the situations and characters introduced become increasingly surreal. Jack London meets Sergio Leone. John Toll's cinematography captures the harsh grandeur of the landscape in a gritty and often violent tale. Many character actors appear in memorable small roles, Anjelica Huston appears in a crucial scene towards the end.  Seraphim Falls attests that Westerns remain an ideal genre to explore mythical themes in new and innovative ways.  Highly recommended.

Late Summer Western #6: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance ***1/2 (1962)

One of John Ford's last great Westerns, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance is a complicated film operating on many levels.

The film begins with aging Senator Ranse Stoddard (James Stewart) arriving in a former frontier town to attend the funeral of a friend Tom Doniphon (John Wayne). Then the story flashes back to Rance's arrival in the town as a young man about thirty years earlier (both Stewart and Wayne were twice the age of their characters). He wants to practice law, taking the advice of Horace Greeley to go west.  Upon arrival, his caravan gets held up by the nasty outlaw Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin). Ranse gets nursed back to health by his future wife Hallie (Vera Miles).

Enter Tom Doniphon, a mysterious local, the only one with the courage to stand up to Liberty Valence. Although Ranse has the courage to challenge Liberty, he stands no chance in a physical confrontation. And he detests guns. Rance builds a successful law practice and leads a movement for the territory to become a state, defying the large landowners.  The frontier is closing, a place where old values are in decline and newer ones are taking over.

That's the dichotomy between Rance and Tom. The man of thought vs the man of action. In The Searchers Ford's suggests that John Wayne's character Ethan, a ruthless Indian hater, has no place in the "civilization" emerging in the West. In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, Wayne lets Rance take credit for ending the threat to the town, even letting him take Hallie as his wife (suggested she and Tom were together). These characters become archetypes of the American mythos.

The theme of civilization is further emphasized in Ford's depiction of the democracy emerging in the west.  Rance teaches a class on civics and instructs the ruffians of the frontier on the merits of voting and civic duty.  Ford's portrayal an emerging democracy looks a little hokey, yet the message is clear: democracy, as flawed as it is, stands as a workable alternative to a culture based on fear and violence.  

A troubled production, Ford and Wayne feuded throughout.  The two aging stars, Stewart and Wayne in a young man's story, adds a layer of melancholy.  What seems to be a story of courage becomes something else, a commentary on history and the inevitable mythmaking that distorts rather than shines a light, cinema being one of the biggest culprits. 

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence is a fascinating Western, a commentary on the genre itself.  It would be a compelling story to revisit in a remake.

Late Summer Western #5 Winchester '73 *** (1950)

Winchester '73 traces the tale of a rifle through the maelstrom of the Old West. The story begins on the Centennial Day (July 4, 1876) in Dodge City, with Wyatt Earp presiding as Marshall. Lin McAdam (James Stewart) and his partner are in pursuit of a fugitive and take part in a shooting contest, Lin ends up winning a Winchester 1873 rifle, the most coveted gun in the West. What follows is a compelling journey featuring outlaws, Native Americans, and settlers.  At around 90 minutes, director Anthony Mann packed in quite a bit of story. Critics credit Winchester '73 for revitalizing the Western genre for the 1950s, a genre that would dominate the decade on film and television. Stewart's career also received a boost, introducing a more subdued and contemplative style. He would go on to star in many Westerns during the decade. Stewart's performance displayed a serious tone that would add poignancy to his Westerns to differentiate him his pal John Wayne. Shot in vibrant black and white, Winchester '73 tells a clever story with menacing villians and biblical irony.

Late Summer Western #4: Ride in the Whirlwind *** (1966)

Monte Hellman's second Western of 1966 Ride in the Whirlwind, written by Jack Nicholson, is slightly less experimental, but no less compelling, than its predecessor The Shooting.  The plot involves a gang of outlaws led by Harry Dean Stanton who are being chased by vigilantes, meanwhile a group of cowboys led by Jack Nicholson take refuge with the outlaws and are mistaken for being perpetrators of crimes they did not commit. Ride in the Whirlwind reminded me of an early Stanley Kubrick film with its deliberate pacing and fascination with triangular conflicts.  And the Utah landscape is a character in itself, desolate and beautiful. In both Hellman films, the West is an unforgiving place, marking a clear departure from the familiar Hollywood productions of John Ford and Howard Hawks. The sense of isolation, cruelty, and its anti-romantic tone mark these two Monte Hellman films as landmarks in the Western genre.

Late Summer Western #3: The Shooting *** (1966)

One of two films directed by Monte Hellman in 1965 on location in the Utah desert, The Shooting has gained notoriety through the decades as an art house Western.  The minimal story begins with two miners played by Warren Oates and Will Hutchins who discover their friend was shot by an unknown gunman.  They become paranoid since they are in the middle of nowhere and are later visited by a woman (Millie Perkins) who mocks their existence and asks the two men to accompany her to a place called Kingsley.  Along the way they meet up with a stranger named Billy Shear (Jack Nicholson) who also treats everyone with contempt.  No one seems to know where they are going and they are running out of food and water. The cinematography is stunning, creating a real sense of desolation and dread in the landscape. I agree with those who consider the film a Waiting for Godot set in the Old West.  The Shooting is a "trip" movie about aimlessness, a striking slice of cinema from the school of the absurd.

Late Summer Western #2: The Missouri Breaks *** (1976)

Any movie starring both Marlon Brando and Jack Nicholson (neighbors in real life) in the 1970s sounds like a match made in heaven, yet their one and only project together, The Missouri Breaks, proved one of the decade's biggest disappointments. With Arthur Penn directing what would now be called a "revisionist western," rumors circulated of never ending problems on the set.  Not surprisingly, stories of Brando's erratic behavior and refusal to take direction were of more interest than the film itself. 

There were other problems: delays caused by weather, accusations of animal cruelty on the set, and daily script revisions. Leonard Maltin called it one of the worst "big movies" ever made, most noted Brando's odd performance.  All the bad reviews makes me wonder if these critics actually watched the film. While there are flaws, the astounding cast of 1970s character actors created a unique tone, blending farce with pathos. The Missouri Breaks has aged well.

A sense of entropy permeates the entire film, mirroring audience exhaustion with the Western genre.  Nicholson plays Tom Logan, leader of a rustling gang. Robin Hoods they are not.  I suppose cattle rustling lacked the romance associated with outlaws like Jesse James and Billy the Kid, they seem to be the bottom feeders of the criminal underworld in the Old West. Logan's gang includes a cast of legendary character actors: Randy Quaid, Harry Dean Stanton, and Frederick Forrest among them.  The new cattle baron David Braxton (John McLiam) is cracking down on rustlers so the gang decides to rob a train and get revenge.  The train robbery scene, a staple of the Western, is shot as a routine maneuver, as if the men are bored with such antics.

Plans for revenge are put on hold when Logan gets into a relationship with Braxton's spirited daughter Jane (Kathleen Lloyd). In the mean time Braxton hires a "regulator" to take care of Logan's gang. 

Enter Brando as Robert E. Lee Clayton, a guy who is a little . . . eccentric. He speaks in an Irish brogue and has lots of hobbies, bird watching among them. One by one he dispatches of Logan's crew, each killing stranger than the one before.  Like a cat playing with a mouse, Clayton likes to toy with his victims before getting rid of them.  At one point he wears a dress as he brings fire and destruction to the land (sure that was Brando's idea). Clayton gets more demonic and terrifying as the film unfolds.  He reminded me a little of the psychotic, Godlike character known as "The Judge" in the Cormac McCarthy novel Blood Meridian. Brando's performance, while offbeat and probably not what the scriptwriter had in mind, is nevertheless memorable and effective. 

What to make of The Missouri Breaks?  Robert Kolker, author of the epochal A Cinema of Loneliness, wrote the following:

Although the film carries some favorite Penn oppositions - particularly that of the individual who lives on the fringes of the legal order and confronts the guardians of that order . . . it is a fairly lifeless work, unable to locate itself within a point of view or a consistent method of telling its tale (20).

Kolker's analysis does get to the biggest flaw in the film: the story feels thin and aimless at times.  But the lack of a tone adds, not subtracts, from the film. Unlike traditional Westerns The Missouri Breaks is commenting upon, the story's allowed to go to some dark places and deal with psychological complexities. Even the "happy ending," if you wish to call it that, feels ironic and oddly appropriate.

Work Cited

Kolker, Robert.  A Cinema of Loneliness. London: OUP, 2011.