Stagecoach (1939) -- John Ford

Geronimo is on the warpath, cutting telegraph lines and burning isolated settlements. Danger awaits the nine passengers of a stagecoach as it attempts to drive to Lordsburg, much of the way without cavalry escort. The odds against them, each has their own reason for making the trip.

The stage to Lordsburg.

Director John Ford had dabbled in Westerns before Stagecoach, most notably with the critically acclaimed silent film The Iron Horse in 1924. And Western films had garnered some success with movie-goers, most notably 1931's Best Picture, Cimmaron. But in the intervening years, the genre had been relegated mostly to cheaply made B pictures. "Oaters" just weren't considered serious films. All that changed with Stagecoach in 1939. One of America's premiere directors showed audiences that the genre was more than horse chases and gun play; it could explore adult relationships and offer riveting adventure and drama.

There are lot of reasons why this splendid film is considered a classic, notably its tight story line, the Oscar nominated cinematography, a superb action and stunt sequence, and its wonderful score of American folk standards. And though Ford wouldn't know it at the time, it introduced two American film icons: John Wayne in his breakout starring role, and the buttes of Monument Valley, the most majestic of Western settings. All in all, it's in the handful of best Westerns ever made.

Under attack!

The ensemble cast includes vivid characters that became Western stereotypes--a testament to the script and the performances of the actors. It also has an irresistible appeal for audiences, i.e., a small group of diverse men and women under severe pressure, some outcasts seeking some type of redemption. They reflect everyday society, with some good guys, some bad ones, and a few you aren't sure of. Wayne is Ringo, a prison escapee on his way to avenge the death of his father and brother; Claire Trevor is a girl of ill-repute with a heart of gold (Dallas); Thomas Mitchell, a doctor, is a drunk (Doc Boone); John Carradine is a Southern gambler (Hatfield); Donald Meeks, whose name fits his character perfectly, is a nervous and mild whiskey drummer (Mr. Peacock); Berton Churchill is a banker and embezzler (Gatewood); and Andy Devine (Buck) is a reluctant stage driver. Along for the ride are Louise Platt, a refined Southern belle (Lucy), pregnant and on her way to meet her officer husband; and George Bancroft (Curly), the steady marshal who decides to ride shotgun.

"We're the victims of a foul disease called social prejudice, my child." 

Director Ford demonstrates wonderful pacing. He tells the story in essentially four acts, first introducing the characters in the town of Tonto. With the exception of Wayne, we meet them all here and in remarkably short order are led to understand their respective class distinctions. Dallas is being run out of town by the ladies of the Law and Order League, a group of self-righteous prudes and old biddies. Doc Boone sees them for what they are and has a kinship with the prostitute. His landlady has had him evicted for failure to pay his rent. Boone provides the film's humor. He scowls and says in a feigned theatrical voice, "Is this the face that wrecked 1000 ships and burned the towerless tops of Illium? Farewell, fair Helen." Things start to look up for the inebriate when he learns that Peacock is taking the stage with his satchel of samples.

The stage encounters Ringo on the way. Standing beside the trail, he flags down the coach with a rifle shot. Ford uses a great zoom close-up of Wayne. The marshal puts him under arrest, and he surrenders his rifle as the cavalry escort rides up. Viewers who know Wayne only from the 60's and 70's, and think of him as an overweight, past-his-prime cowboy actor, may be surprised at how handsome and vigorous he looks. Just 32  here, lean and athletic, it's easy to understand how he became a huge star. 

Inside the coach, the smoke from Doc Boone's cigar is bothersome. The gambler Hatfield, who came along to protect Lucy, insists that he put it out. Doc apologizes to Lucy: "Excuse me ma'am. Being so partial to the weed myself, I sometimes forget that it disagrees with others." Doc is courteous to Lucy, but feels no such obligation when it comes to Hatfield:

Hatfield: A gentleman doesn't smoke in the presence of a lady.
Doc Boone: Three weeks ago, I took a bullet out of a man who was shot by a gentleman. The bullet was in his back!
Hatfield (feeling insulted): You mean to insinuate...
Ringo Kid (to keep the peace): Sit down mister. Doc don't mean no harm.

Of course, 1939 is generally considered Hollywood's best year. Thomas Mitchell was right in the middle of several signature films, showing his mettle as a supporting actor, and surely accumulating one of the greatest single year resumes in history. Besides Stagecoach, he appeared in Gone With the Wind, Only Angels Have Wings, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. His humorous performance here won him one of the film's two Oscars. It was well deserved.

Dallas and Ringo, two misfits made for each other.

We learn more about the characters when they stop at the Dry Fork way station for dinner. Lucy expects to meet her husband here, but he has already left for Apache Wells, their next stop. When the food is served the other passengers shun Dallas, but Ringo thinks he's the cause for their reaction,  saying, "Well, I guess you can't break out of prison and into society in the same week."

After a vote they continue their trip, stopping overnight at Apache Wells. Lucy goes into labor and gives birth, attended to by Boone, who shows he's still a competent physician when filled with enough coffee.  By now Ringo and Dallas have begun to fall in love. He asks her to marry him; she agrees, provided he escape instead of seeking vengeance against Luke Plummer, the man who murdered his father and brother. But when he sees Indian smoke signals in the distance, he knows it's too late. The stage makes a mad dash for Lordsburg, forging a swift river along the way in a visually interesting sequence before being assaulted by Indians.

The attack is the most memorable sequence with the great stunt work of famed stuntman Yakima Canutt, who twice risks his life. Ford introduces the threat with a marvelous sound effect. Thinking they have passed the danger point, Doc Boone proposes a toast. As he takes a swig from a bottle, an arrow zips loudly into the window and you hear the thunk as it embeds itself into Peacock's chest. The music swells and the chase is on. The horses pull frantically across the dry alkali flats, pursued by ferocious warriors, whooping like banshees and banishing their weapons. One brave jumps from his mount onto the lead horses, trying to stop the coach. Ringo, now riding atop the coach, shoots him, and the Indian (Canutt) falls beneath the horses' hooves, where he struggles to hang onto the rig's shaft as he drags along the ground. He finally loses his grip as the coach rolls over his prone body. Ford pans the camera back to let you know it was real man and not a dummy--the wounded Indian rolls over and pushes himself up to his knees.

When Buck is shot in the shoulder and loses the reins, the stage begins to slow. Ringo (Canutt again) leaps to the rescue, landing on the wheel team, then forward to the swing team, and finally forward again to the lead team, where he gets control of the animals. 

Yakima Canutt as Ringo leaps to the rescue.

Inside the coach ammunition has run out. Hatfield has saved one bullet and in a close-up aims his pistol at Lucy's head as she prays, planning to save the woman from being ravaged and tortured by the Apaches. A gunshot rings out; the pistol drops as Hatfield is killed by the Indians. A bugle sounds and the cavalry ride to the rescue.

The stunt work here includes several dangerous looking falls by riders from the horses. The entire sequence showcases the wonderful film editing by Otto Lovering, who also earned an Oscar nomination.



Finally in Lordsburg, lawmen arrest Gatewood and retrieve his $50,000. The marshal, whose symphathies are clear throughout, gives Ringo ten minutes to say goodbye to Dallas and confront the Plummers. Ringo escorts the girl home and learns she's a prostitute. Plummer is playing cards in a saloon and hears that Ringo is in town. He holds a "dead man's hand," aces in eights -- the same hand held by Wild Bill Hickok when murdered.

Ford sets up the shootout in a thrilling manner. Doc Boone, his self-respect renewed, refuses to let Luke leave the saloon with a shotgun; the editor of the Lordsburg newspaper predicts the morning's headlines: "The Ringo Kid was killed on Main Street in Lordsburg tonight, and among the additional dead were...;" then three Plummers advance toward the camera, moving forward cautiously down a dark street as Ringo's dark silhouette comes into focus in the foreground. From a low camera angle, Ringo throws himself to the ground while firing three shots. Dallas, listening where Ringo left her, fears the worst. A cut to Luke shows him stagger through the swinging doors of a saloon, presumably the victor, but he falls dead. Then Ringo appears out of the mist and embraces Dallas.

In a fitting ending, Ford has the marshal let Ringo go instead of arresting him, sending him and Dallas to Mexico in a buckboard. Doc Boone waxes philosophically, giving a final observation about civilization and respectability:

Doc Boone: Well, they're saved from the blessings of civilization.
Curley: Yeah. (Curley removes his sheriff's badge.) Doc? I'll buy ya a drink.
Doc Boone: (After a long pause) Just one.

Dudley Nichols wrote the terrific screenplay. He had won an Oscar with Ford just four years earlier with The Informer, and was a frequent collaborator with the director. The black and white cinematography received an Oscar nomination as did Ford for directing, and the film for Best Picture.

This is one of the earliest films I know where the director employed specific music to represent the characters. "I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair, "plays over scenes with Louise Platt as Lucy, and "Shall We Gather at the River?" connotes Doc Boone.

The stage in Monument Valley.

Ford made films in all kinds of genres, but his Westerns best demonstate his incomparable abilty to weave a landscape into his story. In Stagecoach, for most of the film the nine passengers are isolated in a harsh, threatening environment. The sandstone formations of Monument Valley tower above them, and the land is dry and unforgiving, and filled with danger. Survival depends on courage and a man's wits. Ford is saying that the taming of the West was not for the faint of heart. What better place to set this story?

Ford and Wayne, of course, would forge the most successful director/actor relationship in Hollywood history. They would make 14 films together. Monument Valley became Ford's favorite location to film. He returned in 1946 for My Darling Clementine with Henry Fonda; the Cavalry Trilogy (1948-1950) and The Searchers (1956) with Wayne; and finished with Cheyenne Autumn with Richard Widmark in 1964.

The Great John Ford about the time of Stagecoach.

John Ford won four Oscars for Best Director, a record:

• The Informer 1935
• The Grapes of Wrath 1940
• How Green Was My Valley 1942
• The Quiet Man 1952

A 1966 remake pales in comparison, though is still worth a watch. Its biggest problem is the casting of Alex Cord as Ringo. The cast does have a few actors that I always enjoy in films: Keenan Wynn, Slim Pickens, and Van Heflin.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) - John Ford

Ransom Stoddard's introduction to the Wild West. 
This scene never appeared in the final cut.  

Colorado is on the cusp of statehood, a place where a man with ambition can make something of himself. Ranse Stoddard (James Stewart) is such a man. He has come west with his law books and idealism, hoping to help bring law and order to the territory. But it is still the Wild West, and Stoddard's stagecoach is waylaid by three outlaws, one the infamous Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin). When Stoddard protests, Valance whips him savagely, leaving him on the trail to die. He is rescued by Tom Doniphon (John Wayne), a local rancher, and his reliable servant, Pompey (Woody Strode ), who take him into Shinbone where he is nursed back to health by Hallie (Vera Miles), the girl Doniphon hopes to marry.

Stoddard befriends Dutton Peabody (Edmund O'Brien), the publisher/editor of the local newspaper, the Shinbone Star. Peabody is one of Shinbone's leading citizens and a vocal proponent for statehood. He writes a harsh editorial decrying Valance and his ilk, men who continue to terrorize the town and are an impetus to progress. Valance seeks revenge by ransacking the newspaper office and lashing the newspaperman with his whip. Stoddard, though no hand with a gun, challenges the drunken outlaw to a fight. The outcome will change the lives of each character, and create a legend.

This is John Ford's last great Western, and in some ways his most resonating. It contains the most memorable line of any of his films: "This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend." It is an acute and accurate statement on how history comes into being. Over time, facts blur, or are intentionally hidden, and what we think happened may be only partially correct, or totally wrong for that matter.

Ford cleverly tells the story as a flashback. It begins with Stoddard, now a state senator, returning to Shinbone decades after the events of the story. He has come with his wife, Hallie, to attend the funeral of an old friend, Tom Doniphon. When asked by a reporter who Doniphon was, Stoddard tells the tale.

A poignant scene takes place as Hallie visits Doniphon's ranch outside of town where she digs up a cactus rose. The ranch house is a burnt out shell. We will later learn why. On retuning to town she and her husband go to the undertaker. In a nice touch, Ford has Hallie stop abruptly and take a set back on seeing the plain wooden coffin. When Rance looks inside, he admonishes the undertaker for stealing the boots. It's an intriguing beginning, one that compels the viewer to wonder who Doniphon was and what his death has to do with the senator.

Lee Marvin as the dangerous Liberty Valance.

Wayne is the commanding presence in the film. In his familiar cadence, he tells Stoddard that Valance "is the toughest man south of the Picketwire ... next to me."  Marvin is truly menacing as the villain. The two have a tense confrontation in a restaurant when Valance trips Stoddard, working as a waiter and dishwasher. A plate of steak and potatoes crashes to the floor. Like all bullies, Valance backs down when challenged. Doniphon is the only one in town with courage to stand up to the outlaw, and it's clear Valance fears him.

Valance: You lookin' for trouble, Doniphon?
Doniphon: You aim to help me find some?

Edmund O'Brien has fun as the dour editor, who's too smart and reckless for his own good. He drinks too much and sets himself up for a beating from Valance. O'Brien more or less recreated the character six years later in Sam Peckinpah's brilliant The Wild Bunch.

There are no silly fistfights here similar to that Ford injected into The Searchers, but he does not altogether neglect his usual dose of humor, putting into the script.

Peabody: [during voting for the territorial convention] I'll have the usual, Jack.
Barman: The bar is closed, Mister Editor, during voting.
Peabody: Bar's closed?
Doniphon: You can blame your lawyer friend. He says that's one of the "Fundamental laws of democracy." No exception.
Peabody: No exceptions for the working press? Why, that's carrying democracy much too far!

Like all Ford films, the supporting cast is terrific and familiar. John Quinlan as a Scandinavian, craggy-faced John Pennich as a bartender, John Carradine, and Andy Devine as the timid sheriff are from Ford's often-used stock company. Marvin's henchmen are Lee Van Cleef and Strother Martin.

Valance and his gang.

Vera Miles is lovely as Hallie. She pines for Tom, but he has trouble adequately expressing his love. The best he can do is give her a cactus flower, but it clear by his mannerisms and long looks that he loves her. Ranse's arrival and demeanor presents a clear contrast. Tom represents the past, a West still violent and unrefined. Ranse, intelligent and considerably more cultured, represents the future. As Ranse's star begins to rise, Hallie latches on. The relationship between these three characters is a sad one. Ranse knows of Tom's feelings for the girl. Moreover, he is indebted to the man for saving his life, not once, but as it will turn out, twice. It is hard to like this character. Were it not for the fact he's finally the one to challenge Valance, he borders on contemptible, both for not stepping aside when it comes to Hallie, and for living a lie. Whether by intent or happenstance (probably the latter), it's easy to interpret the Ranse character as a statement by Ford that politicians can't be trusted; they put career advancement ahead of integrity.

Ranse finds out that Hallie placed a cactus rose on Tom's coffin, returning the gift Tom had given her many years earlier, shown in the flashback. Perhaps Tom was her true love after all and you and Ranse wonder if Hallie doesn't think she made the wrong choice. The ticket-taker then compliments the senator, saying: "Nothing's too good for the man who shot Liberty Valance." A hint of shame passes over Ranse's face. We never find out if Hallie knows the truth.          

Director Ford always had a fine human touch. It's one aspect of his films that make them so enjoyable and touching: Ward Bond's drink of coffee in The Searchers; Dick Foran's serenade and the noncoms' dance sequence in Fort Apache, the gift of a watch in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, the barn-raising and dance in My Darling Clementine. Ford loved the romance and tradition of the Old West. The cactus rose appearing on Tom's coffin is another such subtle moment. We never see Hallie place it there.  

A second flashback is embedded in Stoddard's story, which reveals what really happened the night Valance was gunned down.

Doniphon cues Stoddard in on who really shot Liberty Valance. 

The story here is so good, both visually and in the performances, that you don't notice, or at least don't mind so much, that most of it was shot on a Hollywood sound stage rather than on location. Ford nearly single-handily is responsible for elevating the Western film to its iconic status, in large part by setting his action in majestic, panoramic vistas. Nine of his westerns feature the beautiful Monument Valley as a backdrop. (He would spectacularly return to the location once more after this film with 1964's Cheyenne Autumn.) Still, one or two outdoor moments would have enhanced the film, perhaps just a brief shot of Valance and his men crossing the river at dusk, on their way into Shinbone.

Besides the unexciting set, the only flaw in the film is Stewart; 52 at the time of filming, he is about 25 years too old for his character. It's particularly glaring since he's supposed to be a recent law graduate, with no legal experience. Of course, the same might be said of Wayne, but there's considerably more leeway with his character; a strong rancher would have needed to live in the Wild West a while before gaining his level of confidence and reputation. The 32-year difference between Wayne and Miles then doesn't seem quite so disturbing.

Ford rarely did much movement with the camera, letting the scene and characters tell the story. But in one instance here he employs a closeup. As Valance prepares to whip the prone Stoddard, the camera pulls in tight. Stoddard drops from the frame. We see Valance from the waist up inflict several strikes. Only later do we see the bloody effects. Another director might have been more gratuitous. Ford lets the viewer's imagination paint the scene. Ford understood the value of understatement.

And the decision to film in black and white was a wise one, even if forced on the director for financial reasons or to create a younger look for the leads. It gives the film an appropriate feel and mood. Edith Head designed the costumes, something you rarely notice in a Western. She was nominated for an Oscar, and the Duke does look terrific in spats and a ten-gallon hat.

Director John Ford with his two stars.

William Clothier handled the cinematography. A skilled cameraman, particularly with the Western genre, he was a long-time collaborator with Wayne, having been nominated for an Oscar for The Alamo. He'd work with Ford again on Cheyenne Autumn and earn a second nomination.

Ford was 68 when he made this film, an age when most successful directors had already hung up their megaphone. It was an extraordinary effort.

Pop singer Gene Pitney released a catchy song in 1962 based on the film. You can listen to it below. The film was named to the National Registry in 2007.

Favorite Films of the 1950s

The 1950s was a spectacular decade of films. Here are ten of my favorites in chronological order. Maybe not the ten best of the decade, though some certainly are by most people's measure.

It marked the last decade for Bogart, who did some of his best work, and for Gary Cooper. Marlon Brando was at the top of his game, and it was perhaps the best decade for Westerns. Two make my list, but it was a rich genre. Cooper won his second Oscar with High Noon; Anthony Mann and Jimmy Stewart produced five terrific collaborations, including Winchester '73 and The Naked Spur; and Budd Boetticher and Randolph Scott combined for several classics.

Hitchcock continued his impressive run and peaked commercially in the decade with several classic suspense films. I include just one, and omit Strangers on a Train, Rear Window and North by Northwest.

Other directorial achievements of note included came from Nicholas Ray, Billy Wilder, and the great John Ford, but other fine films of theirs are omitted.

Foreign directors continued to make wonderful films, even if some weren't shown in America. I include just two here and must omit several worthy ones. De Sica's Umberto D is the best film to ever feature a dog, and Fellini made two poignant films with his wife, Giulietta Masina: La Strada and Nights of Cabiria. Jules Dassin's Rififi is a tight noir that paved the way for heist films, and Henri-Georges Clouzot gave us the Hitchcockian Diabolique and Wages of Fear.

1. In a Lonely Place 1950

Humphrey Bogart's best performance in Director Nicholas Ray's best film. Is he a murderer or not? Gloria Grahame plays his confused lover, trying to help him overcome his inner demons. From the pulp novel by Dorothy Hughes, it contains a memorable last scene. "I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

2. Sunset Boulevard 1951

Billy Wilder's scathing look at Hollywood follows the weird affair of a has-been movie star, Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), with struggling writer Joe Gillis (William Holden). Swanson gives one of film's iconic performances. "Mr. DeMille. I'm ready for my closeup."

3. Tokyo Story 1953

The third of Director Yasujiro Ozo's "Noriko Trilogy," packs an emotional wallop. Setsuko Hara is the generous daughter-in-law in a family whose children are too busy to bother with its aging parents. Now considered on the short list of greatest films ever made, it was not released in the United States until 1972.

4. Shane 1953

One of the most authentic Westerns, it is George Stevens' best film and Alan Ladd's signature role as a retired gunfighter who helps farmer Joe Starett (Van Heflin) fight off cattlemen in a range war. Shot against the beautiful Grand Tetons it is Jean Arthur's last film and includes one menacing bad guy in Jack Palance as Jack Wilson.

5 On the Waterfront 1954

Marlon Brando as dock worker Terry Malloy comes up against the brutal union led by Lee J. Cobb. Brando won a well-deserved Best Actor Oscar in that year's Best Film. The most memorable scene takes place inside a taxi between brothers Brando and Rod Steiger. "I coulda been a contender."

6. The Searchers 1956

John Ford and John Wayne's best collaboration and cinematographer Winton Hoch's masterpiece. Inexplicably neglected at that year's Oscars, it is now on the short list of greatest Westerns. Wayne is a brutally racist Ethan Edwards out to rescue his abducted niece. A great final shot of Wayne in the doorway.

7. Sweet Smell of Success 1957

Easily Tony Curtis' best performance. He is Sidney Falco, a sleazy sycophantic press agent. Burt Lancaster plays the powerful columnist J.J. Hunsecker. Filmed in glorious black and white, New York City never looked more grittier. Ernest Lehman co-wrote the memorable script. "Match me, Sidney."

8. The Bridge on the River Kwai 1957

Director David Lean's first epic, and maybe his best. Alex Guinness gives his signature Oscar-winning performance as a rigid British colonel who helps the Japanese build a bridge. His counterpart is Sessue Hayakara as the Japanese colonel, facing Hari Kari if the bridge isn't completed on time. William Holden leads the commando raid to stop them. With a rousing climax, it deservedly captured that year's Best Film.

9. Vertigo 1958

Alfred Hitchcock's most complex film. Jimmy Stewart is a retired detective afraid of heights and obsessed with a dead woman. The twist, revealed mid-stream, is stunning the first time you see it. A magnificent score by Bernard Hermann, impeccable editing by George Tomasi, and a memorable title sequence by Saul Bass make it one of the most satisfying film experiences.

10. The Cranes are Flying

One of the first Russian films produced after the death of Stalin that deviated from the state's imposed mandate to champion Russia as a military victor, the film tells the story of a beautiful young couple separated by the war. Tatyana Samojlova, as Veronika, promises to wait for Boris, who finds himself on the Eastern front. The film depicts war as ugly and devastating and won that year's Golden Palm at the Cannes Film festival.

Just Misses:

Early Summer 1951 with Setuko Hara.

Moby Dick 1956 with Gregory Peck.

Touch of Evil 1958 with Orson Welles.

Room at the Top 1959 with Simone Signoret and Lawrence Harvey.

 

The Searchers (1956) - John Ford

Confederate veteran Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) arrives unannounced at his brother Aaron's Texas homestead just when Captain Clayton (Ward Bond) of the Texas Rangers comes looking for men to chase some Indians who have stolen cattle from a nearby ranch. Ethan goes along, leaving Aaron behind with his wife, Martha, and two daughters. It's a trick; the Indians have drawn them away from the ranches to raid those left behind. By the time the men return it is too late—Aaron and Martha are dead and the two girls captured. Ethan (and his nephew, Martin Pawley) begins a five-year search to rescue the girls and extract revenge against Chief Scar. But as the search lingers his motivation changes as he realizes the one surviving child, Debbie, has been assimilated into the Indian way of life.

John Wayne, always a better actor than given credit for, gives a towering performance as Ethan Edwards and The Searchers is John Ford's most majestic Western. Set against the beautiful stark sandstone mesas and buttes of Monument Valley and the snowy Rocky Mountains, it shows Ford's extraordinary eye for visuals. One particularly beautiful shot occurs with the two men on horseback in a growth of willows with flakes of snow swirling. Marty wonders if they'll ever find Debbie. Edwards, a relentless pursuer, utters a famous line: "We'll find 'em. Just as sure as the turnin' of the earth." A lesser director might have rejected the scene since it only serves to deepen your understanding of the character, rather than move the action forward. 

John Wayne as Ethan Edwards.

Edwards is a tragic hero. Complicated, flawed, and mysterious, he doesn't say where he's been since the war ended three years ago, only that he didn't surrender. He may have drifted, perhaps he is wanted. In any case, he is driven by an intense hatred of Indians, sparked by the death of his mother by Comanches sixteen years earlier. (When little Debbie hides in the cemetery near the start of the film, this information appears on face of one of the headstones). Dark, moody, and violent, he shoots the eyes out of a dead Comanche so the corpse can't enter the spirit world, and he indiscriminately kills buffalo so the Indians won't have enough food.

The character of Martin, 1/8 Indian, serves as a counterpoint to his uncle. In a twist of sterotypes, Ford presents the half-breed as a Christian, and the white man as a savage. Their relationship at times is strained. His could not have been an easy role to play, but Wayne is convincing as a man undergoing a deep personal struggle. The character is tragic, because though he largely succeeds in conquering his inner demons and ultimately changes for the better, he finds himself no closer to contentment.   

Ford rarely employs close-ups, but two show Wayne at moments of great emotion: the first when the posse realizes they will never get back to the ranch in time, and the second when Edwards inspects a group of recaptured white girls. Both shots effectively so Wayne deeply immersed in the role. Age 49 at the time of filming and still a vigorous man, he fills the character with intensity and credibility, and the screen with his presence.

Ford infused the film with his usual moments of comedy, here sometimes over-the-top when involving the character of Charlie McCorry, Martin's competition as a suitor for young Laurie (Vera Miles). Intended to give the audience relief from moments of intense action, the comedy detracts from an otherwise wonderful film.

The best action sequence involves a mad dash to the river by the ranger squad with Indians hot on their trail. Once across the men dig in. Using fallen mesquite trees for scant cover they exchange gunfire with the enemy, who makes a failed charge across the water, whooping and banishing their weapons. 

Max Steiner did the score, which includes rousing songs and a lovely, memorable theme (Ethan Returns). Steiner was a 24-time Oscar nominee, though not for this.

As sure as the turning of the earth.

Chief Scar

What Makes The  Searchers  Special

Little moments transform the film from a good Western to a sublime one. Ford was never big on dialog. One of the best scenes takes place as the posse hurries to leave. Clayton gulps down a cup of coffee and eats a donut; behind his back, Martha presents Ethan his blanket, newly washed and pressed. They embrace and kiss, and by the look on Clayton's face, you can tell he suspects more than innocent affection between in-laws. This knowledge makes Edwards' later close-up that much more affecting. Some critics interpret the scene as proof that Martha and Ethan were once lovers. If so, it is conceivable that Debbie is their daughter, which makes Ethan's ensuing pursuit of the girl and desire to kill her that much more sordid.

The last shot is another terrific moment. Ethan has finally returned from his long quest. Debbie (Natalie Wood) is safe and Martin is reunited with Laurie. They enter the cabin, happy and relieved, while Ethan remains outside, framed in the doorway, still an outcast from society.  

Besides Bond, plenty of Ford's stock company of actors make an appearance: John Qualen, Harry Carey Jr., Ken Curtis, Hank Worden.    

Winton Hoch's cinematography is stunningly gorgeous. He also collaborated with Ford and Wayne on 1949's She Wore a Yellow Ribbon.     

Inside Story

The famous last shot is a tribute by Wayne to Harry Carey, whom he called the greatest Western actor. Carey started in films in the silent era and with Wayne several times, including 1941's Sheppard of the Hills, 1947's Angel and the Badman, and 1948's Red River. You recognize Carey as the President of the Senate in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. His son, Harry Carey Jr., and his wife, who plays Laurie's mother, Mrs. Jorgenson, are in The Searchers.

Wayne and John Ford were one of the most successful partnerships in the history of Hollywood. They made 14 films together. Of those, Ford won the Best Director Oscar for 1953's The Quiet Man and was nominated for 1939's Stagecoach. 

Though the film was critically acclaimed, it received no Oscar consideration. Various major newspapers called it "distinguished," "remarkable," a "Homeric odyssey," an "astonishing wealth of minute detail and honest, strikingly natural charasterizations," "a rip-shorting Western, as brashly entertaining as they come," and said Wayne was "uncommonly commanding." Maybe the Academy thought it has honored the director enough.

Perhaps the film appeared a decade too early. It could easily fit alongside The Wild Bunch as a revisionist Western of the highest order.

Major Awards:

•   Nominated for Best Director by the Director's
Guild of America

•   National Film Registry 1989