A great genre film is not necessarily a great piece of cinema, for the dictates of genre often run counter to the dictates of art; namely that genre demands familiar elements (aka clichés). As good an example of this dictum that can be found is director Howard Hawks’ 1948 (although filmed in 1946) black and white western Red River.
There is great debate amongst western aficionados as to who was the greater director of westerns, John Ford or Howard Hawks. Well, if one compares the two westerns most consider the two directors’ apexes in the genre, Ford’s The Searchers and this film, it’s no contest. Red River and Hawks win in a walk.
That’s because Hawks was basically concerned with narrative and characters while Ford obsessed over myth-making and caricatures. Even Ford tacitly admitted Hawks was the superior craftsman, for when he first saw Red River he is reputed to have exclaimed, of star John Wayne, "I didn't know the big son of a bitch could act."
Both films, of course, feature Wayne in an anti-hero role, and both are sweeping tales. But Red River features realistic characterization, great dialogue, and comedy in a first rate screenplay written by Charles Schnee and Borden Chase, which was adapted from Chase’s tale The Chisholm Trail. Above all, the film benefits from the screen debut of Montgomery Clift, who steals the film from Wayne as easily as his character does the cattle herd they are driving north to sell. Note the scene where Matt steps inside a cattleman’s office in Abilene. Watch Clift’s face as he ducks, because it’s been months since he was under a roof. That’s the sort of realistic reaction that takes little effort in writing or acting, but adds up to lifting a pedestrian film into a greater realism.
For those who think the Method way of acting meant only the gonzo sorts of performances put out by Marlon Brando and James Dean, Clift punctures that fallacy with ease, for he is simply terrific and effortlessly naturalistic as Matthew Garth, the surrogate son of Wayne’s Tom Dunson, a borderline psychotic who’ll shoot a man to death as easily as other men curse. The best way to describe Clift is as a much better looking and far more talented Tom Cruise.
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Article comments
1 - Jill Henry
"...Wayne has always been credited with creating his first real villain, Ethan Edwards, a racist killer..."
Remember, when the politically correct use the term racist, they simply mean white Gentiles who discriminate.
"I hate racists" translates to "I hate honkys!"
So, to translate the first quote: "his first real villain, Ethan Edwards, a honky killer"
2 - Dan Schneider
Back on planet Earth: as I'm not PC, is it fair to say it's that time of the month, Jill?
3 - paull
Missing from this account is the history of a bracelet. Years before the movie started, Dunson inherited it from his late mother. At the film start, he leaves it as a pledge of return to Fen in the first wagon train. Then he finds it on the wrist of an Indian he has just killed. Evidently the Indian had killed Fen. In later years, he gave it to Matt. Then Matt gave it as a keepsake to Tess. This isn't accidental.
The ending scene breakup by Dru firing a hogleg is of course silly, but that's not her fault. It's a stain of 40s movie requirement -- as is the sountrack quasi-heroic male chorus. The Tiomkin music is not all that bad.
Ms Dru more than earned her place in this movie in her earlier scene in a tent with a weary travel-stained Dunson, in which she tries to get him drunk so he won't follow Matt -- Dunson has a drinking problem -- and also considers shooting him with a derringer. She offers him possibly the greatest gift of his life -- she promises to bear him a son -- if he abandons his perverse desire to kill Matt. He rejects it. Killing is better than new life; and Dunson earlier won his Texas ranch by cold-blooded murder. The tent scene was open to all kinds of scenery-chewing, and there is nothing like that in this movie. As an intelligent and worldly woman, she offers Dunson an extraordinary sacrifice, as though it's just the sort of thing a woman would do. Very high moral level in this scene, which is seldom mentioned by critics.
4 - Hank Graham
Uh--Howard Hawks preferred the shorter version, NOT the longer. That's been written about by Peter Bogdanovich and several others.
Get the facts straight.
5 - harriet vane
Just saw this on the big screen in it's original aspect ratio, and have to say it was disappointing. Didn't quite transcend the genre for me, and the final scene diminished everything that preceded it; Clift was exactly right about that. A dead Dunson transported home for burial is the only ending that would have honored all that preceded it. Can't imagine what Hawks was thinking by tacking on the cutesy-poo finish; perhaps he just didn't care at that point. In fact, there were a number of points where it seemed Hawks just didn't care enough to finish a thought or develop imagery that served the emotional weight of the story.
6 - d.c.
Even if it's Hollywood bull, I love the contrived finish, as another strong Hawks woman gets the dudes to stop their near fatal roostering. Just saw (and loved) The Westerner, would have sworn it was a Hawks film, but Wyler made it! If the ending of Red River disappoints you, you'll be happier with the finish of The Westerner, particularly as the relationship between the leads in both films seems similar.