My Darling Clementine (1946)

 

Rio Grande (1950) **

For me, the best thing about director John Ford’s Rio Grande (1950) is that its small budget and huge success ensured that Republic Pictures gave Ford the money he needed to make The Quiet Man (1952). This is not to say that Rio Grande is a bad film, but it certainly isn’t a favorite of mine, either.  This, no doubt, stems from the fact that I’m not a big western fan, and that is definitely what Rio Grande is, albeit a rather soap opera-ish one. 

The first of three films that John Ford, John Wayne, and Maureen O’Hara would make together (the others being The Quiet Man and The Wings of Eagles), Rio Grande is considered the final installment in Ford’s “cavalry trilogy” (with Fort Apache and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, all starring Wayne). Based on James Warner Bellah’s 1947 short story, “Mission with No Record”, Rio Grande tells a strange family reunion tale along the Rio Grande River.  Colonel Kirby Yorke (Wayne) is a Cavalry commander along the Mexico border who is besieged by raiding Apaches who use Mexico as a safe haven in between attacks.  Colonel Yorke’s troubles mount when his son, Trooper Jeff Yorke (Claude Jarman, Jr.), is posted under his command. Having recently flunked out of West Point, Jeff enlisted in the Army as a matter of pride and to emulate a father who he hasn’t seen in over 15 years.  Not long after Jeff’s arrival, Colonel Yorke’s very southern wife, Kathleen (Maureen O’Hara), arrives at the post to pay $100 to have Jeff released from the Army.  While it’s clear that Colonel Yorke and Kathleen still love one another they have two problems to overcome: her insistence that Jeff be released from his enlistment and her anger over Colonel Yorke’s having burnt down her family’s plantation during the siege of Shenandoah during the Civil War.  Complicating this domestic drama are pesky Indians who kidnap a wagon filled with children and a Trooper (Ben Johnson) who is wanted for manslaughter for killing a Yankee who made unwanted advances toward his sister.

While I can’t fault Bert Glennon’s cinematography, which impressively captures Monument Valley, there is no doubt that Rio Grande would have looked a lot better in color.  However, Ford was forced to shoot in black and white to save money that would be later used to capture the emerald green of Ireland in The Quiet Man. Still, the desert always looks better in color, and this film, for me, suffers from a mundane feel. The Wayne and O’Hara spark wasn’t yet on full display yet (although they definitely have their moments), as this was their very first film together, which somewhat lessens the overall effectiveness of the movie.  Of course, it doesn’t help that their son is so freaking boring, either.  Perhaps if Ben Johnson had played Jeff Yorke instead of Jarman things may have turned out differently—Johnson is a standout here.

Thankfully, Rio Grande is aided by a rather impressive supporting cast: Victor McLaglen, J. Carrol Naish, Chill Willis, and Harry Carey, Jr. While McLaglen and Carey are pigeonholed into playing clownish figures, Naish shines in his brief appearances as General Sheridan.  He looks and acts like someone with the toughest regional command in the military.  Still, the fact that he, and the audience, has to seem entertained by the fort’s serenading squad (the Sons of the Pioneers) is an unwanted nuisance which happens several times throughout the film. I will harken back to their unnecessary presence here the next time I watch The Quiet Man to see if there is anything that could have been improved by the money that was spent on them here.

Overall, Rio Grande is a moderately entertaining movie.  I expect its importance stems from it being the first collaboration between Wayne and O’Hara, as well as Wayne, O’Hara and Ford.  Yet, for me, there is nothing exceptional about it.

 

How Green Was My Valley (1941) **1/2

Director John Ford’s How Green Was My Valley (1941) was nominated for ten Academy Awards—it won five (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, and Best Supporting Actor). By taking home the Oscar for Best Picture it beat out such films as Citizen Kane (1941), The Little Foxes (1941), The Maltese Falcon (1941), Sergeant York (1941), and Suspicion (1941). While it definitely had one helluva cast and the massive Welsh mining town constructed at Fox Ranch in Malibu Canyon was impressive, I cannot agree that How Green Was My Valley was a better film than Citizen Kane, The Little Foxes, The Maltese Falcon, or Suspicion—though it was better than Sergeant York and the other four films that were nominated for Best Picture that year (Blossoms in the Dust, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, Hold Back the Dawn, and One Foot in Heaven). You add this oversight to the fact that Gregg Toland’s cinematography in Citizen Kane lost to Arthur Miller for his camerawork in this, and you make one heck of a depressing film even more…disagreeable. 

Based on Richard Llewellyn’s 1939 novel of the same name, the film depicts the trials and tribulations of the Morgan family and their late 1800s Welsh coal-mining village.  Gwilym Sr. (Donald Crisp) and Beth (Sara Allgood) Morgan are the parents of six boys and one very pretty daughter, Angharad (Maureen O’Hara).  All of the Morgan men except the youngest son, Huw (Roddy McDowall), work in the coal mines, while the Morgan women tend to the house that they all live in.  At the start of the story they all seem content with their lives; though the work is hard, they have a nice home and plenty to eat. However, as the plot progresses and the mine starts to cut wages the family is divided over the possibility of a strike. This division not only drives three of the sons from the family home (the oldest son, Ivor [Patric Knowles], has married Bronwyn [Anna Lee] and lives next door), but also finds the village turning on Gwilym, a leading member of the community, because he is against the strike.  Tragedy abounds for the Morgans, as one son is killed in the mines and eventually the other three sons are discharged from the mine and must make a new start in America, and poor Huw also finds himself temporarily paralyzed for a time.  Oh, and I almost forgot Angharad’s sad fate—she is in love with the village preacher, Mr. Gruffydd (Walter Pidgeon), but finds herself married off to the mine owner’s son (Marten Lamont).  There is nothing uplifting about How Green Was My Valley—a few parties, some singing and intermittent light moments cannot overcome what is a grim, unpleasant story.  And, even when there was one snippet of hope for one of the Morgans—Huw is a smart boy who could apprentice for a middle class job but decides he too should go down into the mines—that is even taken away. 

If it’s possible to ignore how completely depressing this movie is, I suppose you could marvel at the production design and appreciate the fine acting by most of the cast.  One of the strange things about How Green Was My Valley that not a lot of people know is that producer Darryl F. Zanuck planned on making it the next Gone with the Wind (1939), shot in Technicolor on location in Wales with a runtime of nearly four hours. He started pre-production with William Wyler as his director, but Zanuck’s ambition and Wyler’s notorious reputation for going over budget and taking forever to make a picture made Twentieth Century Fox place the film on hold. Eventually, Zanuck got the wheels of the production moving again by suggesting that John Ford was just the right director for the project.  While four of the most important parts had been cast by Zanuck and Wyler, Ma and Pa Morgan, Huw, and Mr. Gruffydd, it was Ford who cast Lee as Bronwyn and O’Hara as Angharad without screen tests. Lee invented an Irish grandfather and all O’Hara had to do was use her Irish accent and tell stories of her homeland—Ford was a sucker for anything and anyone from his beloved Ireland.

The expertly designed Welsh village is truly amazing. Zanuck had wanted to shoot on location in Wales, but World War II made that impossible and his budget had been drastically cut by Twentieth Century Fox anyway, and so he settled for Brent’s Crag in Malibu.  Zanuck’s Technicolor dream was also abandoned when he realized that Malibu would never match the green valleys of Wales.  The village cost approximately $110,000 to construct and tons upon tons of coal were brought in for the construction of the mines. Anyone who didn’t know better would really believe that How Green Was My Valley was actually filmed in a coal mining village in Wales. Even the coal slag looks real, although it was an illusion created by the hillsides being painted black.

While I hated the story, I loved the characters. Donald Crisp deservedly won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Gwilym Morgan.  He is the heart of the film and probably should have been nominated for Best Actor, because without him there would not have been a moral backbone to the story.  Sara Allgood, as his wife, earned a Best Supporting Actress nomination for her spirited performance as one-tough matriarch.  The doomed romance between Mr. Gruffydd and Angharad was bittersweet to watch.  Probably my favorite scene in the film is Angharad’s brazen attempt to get the man she loves to step in and claim her before she is married off to a man she doesn’t love.  Of course, O’Hara was much too fiery an actress for the always reserved Walter Pidgeon, so she, of course, dominates whenever they are on screen together. 

Overall, How Green Was My Valley is a depressingly nostalgic look at an idyllic Welsh mining community destroyed by greed and pollution.  Occasionally happy things occur, but mostly it’s a hard, bitter depiction of the destruction of the pastoral existence.  Oh, John Ford, thankfully you will later redeem yourself with The Quiet Man (1952), and for that I can forgive you for just about anything…even two hours of constant depression.

 

 

The Grapes of Wrath (1940) **1/2

You don’t get more of a Depression-era film than director John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath (1940). Based on John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same name, the story follows the displaced Joad family from the Dust Bowl of Oklahoma to the sunny orchards of California.  Darryl Zanuck took a chance when he bought the film rights for 20th Century Fox, but in the end it paid off with seven Oscar nominations—two of which earned Oscars for Best Director John Ford and Best Supporting Actress Jane Darwell.  While it isn’t surprising that the film was nominated for Best Picture; it is a tad shocking that renowned cinematographer Gregg Toland’s striking images were overlooked by the Academy. You see, the story is gripping and the acting is mesmerizing, but the visuals are what make this film a treasure. 

When I read Steinbeck’s 600+ page novel in college I found myself admiring preacher Casy (John Carradine) and rooting for poor Rose-of-Sharon (Dorris Bowden).  I also didn’t really like Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) and I could have done without the intercalary chapters. Thankfully, the intercalary sections were left out of the film and what remains is a story that rips your heart out, chops it up, and then feeds it to the pigs.  Here you have a poor Oklahoma family thrown off the land their family has worked for generations by both mechanization and the banks.  No one seems to care that they have nothing but an old rickety truck loaded to the brim with a few pieces of furniture and articles of clothing.  They search out a new life in California, only to find that they are not needed or wanted.  Along the way they meet mostly scorn and mistreatment (mostly by land owners and law enforcement), but they do meet a few compassionate people.  The most memorable being the diner waitress who sells two peppermint sticks to the children for a penny, when they really cost a dime. 

While red-baiting was taking a coffee break in 1940 America, it was still risky to include Steinbeck’s rather socialistic themes. In one memorable scene Tom asks, “What is these 'Reds' anyway? Every time ya turn around, somebody callin' somebody else a Red. What is these 'Reds' anyway?” Steinbeck, and even Ford to a degree, are making the point that anyone who asks to be treated like a human being and be paid a fair wage is viewed as a “red” agitator. 

Henry Fonda does a good job of conveying Tom Joad’s underlying seething rage. Rewarded with a Best Actor nomination by the Academy, Fonda plays the embittered Tom as a man who could (and often does) explode at any moment. You can see the resentment Tom feels in the way Fonda moves, looks, and delivers his lines. 

In addition to Fonda’s fine acting, Jane Darwell delivers the performance of her life as Ma Joad.  It is the simple and quiet way that she goes about building her character into the backbone of the Joad family that I think most people admire. It would have been easy to play up the stereotypical hysterical hillbilly matriarch that some actresses went for, but Darwell is calm, resigned, and resilient in her role. 

The other standout performance is John Carradine’s (one of Ford’s favorite character actors) as Casy.  He adds an almost spiritual element to the film—and not because his character is a fallen preacher, either. He just seems to have a very reverent screen presence, and he delivers his lines in a prayer-like fashion.  Casy was my favorite character in the book, and while he doesn’t get as much screen time as one might like, I think Carradine uses what time he gets to make his Casy one of the most memorable things about the film.

While Carradine’s Casy is memorable, it is Gregg Toland’s cinematography that steals the entire production. Employing  the purity of black and white film, Toland used wide-angle lenses to capture the parched desolation of the Oklahoma plains and the deserted isolation of the desert.  How small is man compared to such images? When dealing with capturing the human element, Toland used deep focus so savagely that you feel uncomfortable looking at the ragged and malnourished people he sets his sights on.  He also uses shadows in a very clever way to literally illustrate when someone has something hanging over their head or breathing down their neck.  His images are stark, realistic, and uncomfortable—just what the film and the book were trying to convey about the plight of the Joads and thousands others like them. 

Now, some might be disappointed that I haven’t discussed the biblical references in the film. It’s there—Casy’s murder is like the crucifixion of Christ and the whole trip is like Exodus—but I find this element severally lacking from that of the book (much was cut), so I don’t find it to be that important.  What I think makes The Grapes of Wrath an enduring picture is the stunning photography and the nuanced presentation of one of the best examples of Americana during the Great Depression.

Judge Priest (1934) **

I suspect a lot of people would be surprised to learn that this little-known 1934 film was director John Ford’s favorite of his countless cinematic endeavors.  Some have argued that the title character, Judge Billy Priest (Will Rogers), was really a facsimile of Ford himself, just played by a more amiable personality in Will Rogers. This might explain why it was his favorite, especially when you consider he made many more highly regarded films like Stagecoach (1939), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and The Quiet Man (1952)—just to name a few. And, when you think about it, who wouldn’t prefer the film that most represents them?

All that said, Judge Priest is just a mildly amusing film, and far from my favorite Ford Film—that place is reserved for The Quiet Man. Still, it is a somewhat interesting film to watch because Will Rogers does a nice job playing a home-spun, down-to-earth Kentucky judge who has to step aside when a legal client of his nephew is brought before his court.  What makes Judge Priest so likable is his overall irreverence for proper courtroom decorum. His outright hilarious interactions with his would-be nemesis Senator “Yankee” Maydew (Berton Churchill) are also a delight to watch. Most critics believe that Rogers didn’t really have to stretch himself in the role, because he was just playing a fictional representation of his commonsensical self. This is probably an accurate assessment, but it doesn’t lessen the fact that Rogers plays the role to the hilt.

There is one element of the film that many viewers do not like—the shamelessly stereotypical role that black comedian Stepin Fetchit plays as Jeff Poindexter. Some critics have said that Fetchit plays nothing more than a human lawn jockey in the film.  It is true that he comes off as a shiftless trickster. Yet, it is also true that his conversations with Judge Priest are the most enjoyable parts of the movie. And, when you take a minute to think about it you might ask yourself what the film was saying about a judge in 1890s Kentucky who would go fishing with a grown black man. Still, the fact the the Judge jokingly tells Jeff that he might join a lynch-mob if Jeff plays “Marching Through Georgia” is not necessarily politically correct either.  Oddly enough, Fetchit would play Jeff Poindexter again in Ford’s, The Sun Shines Bright (1953)—another installment of the Judge Priest story, this time played by Charles Winninger. 

Not the greatest John Ford film, but still worth a watch. 

Stagecoach (1939) ***

It’s difficult to believe that John Wayne wasn’t always a star, but before Stagecoach he and the genre that made him famous, the western, weren’t doing well. He’d had an earlier chance with The Big Trail (1930), but when that was a flop he was primarily relegated to making B westerns. The western itself wasn’t a hot commodity, so when director John Ford pitched the idea for his first sound western to David O. Selznick, the profit-driven producer took a pass. Big mistake. Instead, Ford and Walter Wanger produced one of the most important westerns ever made: Stagecoach, a film that delivered the money at the box office, reestablished the western genre, and made John Wayne a star.

Set in what would become Ford’s staple western setting, Monument Valley, this film was nominated for seven Academy Awards and won two Oscars for Best Supporting Actor (Thomas Mitchell) and Best Score. Since most film critics cite Stagecoach as the western’s savior, it is interesting that, in essence, this is a story about redemption. Screenwriter Dudley Nichols based his script about a group of people traveling on a stagecoach during an Apache uprising on both the Ernest Haycox short story "The Stage to Lordsburg" and Guy de Maupassant’s Boule de Suif. Brimming with colorful characters from various backgrounds, this is a story about overcoming social prejudices and working together to survive a common enemy, in this case a group of angry Apaches.

When the film opens we learn that the Apaches are on the warpath near the Arizona/Mexico border. As the army tries to telegraph nearby Lordsburg the line is cut. It is in Tonto, Arizona where we meet our stage riders: Buck (Andy Devine), the stage driver; Marshal Curley Wilcox (George Bancroft); Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt), a pregnant woman on her way to meet her Cavalry officer husband; Hatfield (John Carradine), a southern gambler; Henry Gatewood (Benton Churchill), the town’s embezzling banker; Dallas (top-billed Claire Trevor), a prostitute forced out of town; Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell in an Oscar winning performance), a penniless drunk who is also forced out of town; and, Sam Peacock (Donald Meek), a whiskey salesman. Before heading out the stagecoach is warned by their cavalry escort Lieutenant Blanchard (Tim Holt) that there could be some trouble with Geronimo on the trail. Surprisingly no one decides to get off. Along the trail the stage encounters Ringo Kid (John Wayne), a young man who has busted out of jail to avenge the deaths of his father and brother from the Plummer clan. The introduction of Wayne’s Ringo is one of the most iconic images of his career: a rapid tracking shot, which zooms in for a close-up of the face that would become the symbol of the western. Ringo, however, is the symbol of a fugitive and is promptly placed under arrest by Marshal Curley.

When they arrive at the Dry Fork station, Lucy learns that her husband has been ordered to Apache Wells and the stage is told by Lieutenant Blanchard that he can’t escort them any farther. When Buck suggests they stay at Dry Fork, Gatewood, who unbeknownst to the others is on the run with the bank’s money, insists that they continue toward Lordsburg. Curly takes a vote and the ayes have it, so the trip will continue. Meanwhile, at the way station, the passengers become more acquainted with one another over dinner. Not knowing that Dallas is a prostitute, Ringo treats her with respect and sits her next to the pregnant Lucy, who is highly offended and is relieved when Hatfield suggests she move closer to the window to escape the heat. Ringo thinks it’s him they are offended by and tries to leave the table, but Dallas begs him to stay right where he’s at.

With their repast over, the stage heads off toward Apache Wells. When Buck decides to take the mountain road in an attempt to avoid the Apaches, the passengers encounter a dropping temperature and mounting tensions. In an effort to help the uncomfortable Lucy, Dallas offers to let her sleep on her shoulder but is rebuffed by the proper Southern lady. After enduring an expertly filmed dust storm, the stage arrives at Apache Wells. They are greeted by four Mexicans who inform them that the cavalry has already left and that Lucy’s husband has been injured badly in a fight with the Apaches. This causes her to go into labor. Too bad Doc Boone is high as a kite after sampling most of Mr. Peacock’s whiskey on the ride. After ingesting as much coffee as possible, Doc is aided by Dallas in delivering Lucy’s daughter. This is one of the film’s more ironic turns, as the woman who wasn’t good enough to sit next to helps deliver the baby of the woman who shunned her. It also provides us with the image of a maternal Dallas and an admiring Ringo, as she nestles the baby in her arms for inspection. This also sets up the classic image of Ringo watching Dallas walk down a darkened corridor and through a lighted doorway to get some fresh air. It becomes obvious that Ringo and Dallas are falling in love with one another. The problem is, he doesn’t know about her past and he has that pesky business of having to handle his business in Lordsburg, i.e. killing the Plummers. When she tries to explain about her past, he tells her he knows all he needs to know to marry her—that is, if he lives.

The next morning, is both literally and figuratively the dawning of a new day. For example, when offered a drink a redemptive Doc refuses, seemingly rededicated to his profession since delivering Lucy’s baby. In addition, Lucy has a newfound admiration for Dallas, who sat up all night with the baby while she recovered her strength. Evidently while she was watching the baby, Dallas hatched an escape plan for Ringo so he wouldn’t go to Lordsburg and a) learn about her past, and b) get shot to death by the Plummers—not certain which one she thought worse. When alone, she gives him a rifle and a horse and sends him on his way. He goes a few yards and then turns back—he sees Apache war smoke in the distance.

The stage hurriedly sets off for the ferry. When they arrive they find the ferry destroyed and all of the residents killed by the Apaches. The men rig the stage with hollowed-out logs to float it across the river. Once they make it across, they find themselves in wide-open country. In true John Ford fashion, the scene is shot from a high ridge that reveals Indians positioned to attack the isolated stage. Thinking that they have averted danger, the passengers are preparing to toast one another when an arrow whizzes by and hits Mr. Peacock in the chest. What ensues is 8 minutes of heart-pounding action, as everyone on the stage bands together to fight off the Indian attack. It is during this sequence that legendary stuntman Enos Yakima Canutt pulls off one of the most spectacular stunts ever: leaping from his horse onto the moving stage, then attempting to grab the reins he is shot by Ringo and falls down between the horses, grabs onto the thing that connects the horses to the stage and is dragged along the ground, only to be shot again which causes him to fall and have six horses and the stage run/roll right over top him—he lives. In the end, just as everyone is about to run out of ammunition the cavalry arrives to save the day. The only fatality is Hatfield, who was shot just before he was about to kill Lucy to save her from being captured and raped by the Indians.

Saved, the stage, escorted by the cavalry, arrives in Lordsburg. When friends of one of the Plummers sees Ringo on the stage they go to alert them of his arrival. Ringo then asks Marshall Curley to escort Dallas to his ranch across the border. The Marshall agrees and gives Ringo ten minutes to say goodbye to Dallas and to take care of his business with the Plummers. When Ringo tries to escort Dallas home, she refuses to tell him where she lives. In the end, he escorts her to a brothel and tells her he knows about her past and still wants to marry her. With this cleared up, Ringo sets off for the deserted street that will be the scene of his final stand against the three Plummers. Shot mostly in silhouette, Ford uses a long-shot to capture the adversaries as they advance closer to each other. At the last moment Ringo throws himself to the ground and fires three shots. When Dallas hears the shots she believes Ringo is dead. Amidst her grief, Dallas hears the sound of boots walking up behind her and turns to find Ringo emerging from the shadows. When Curly and Doc come to collect Ringo they allow the young couple to escape to Mexico and the freedom of a new beginning.

Truly a stellar film on every level. Bert Glennon’s cinematography is spectacular and sets the standard for all westerns to follow. The plot, nothing short of a morality tale about the power of redemption, is engaging and at times gripping. The action sequences, both the Apache attack and the final shootout sequence sets the bar very high for the rest of the genre. And, finally, the cast is superb. Everyone does a wonderful job playing their particular part in this morality tale. Thomas Mitchell’s Doc and John Carradine’s Hatfield are truly memorable characters. In addition, Claire Trevor pulls off a superb performance as a woman of the world who just wants to be loved and respected. Her performance is multi-faceted. And, finally, John Wayne is excellent as the vengeance seeking Ringo. By far not one of my favorite actors, Wayne gives perhaps his second-best performance (The Quiet Man being his best) here. What he accomplished in this role launched him into a new phase of his career and created the quintessential image of the rugged cowboy in Hollywood’s classic film age. In addition, this film laid the cornerstones for what John Ford would later accomplish in the western genre.