Montana (1950. dir: Ray Enright) In Montana, a full-scale war is raging between cattle-herders and sheep-herders, with so much unjust blood spilt on both sides it's come to resemble the Irish Troubles. Luckily, all it takes to make peace is a charming shepherd like Errol Flynn to step in, seduce the chief cattlewoman to his side, and sheep and cows co-exist happily ever after.
This is a silly movie. First of all, as a vegan and a democrat, a conflict between beef-heads and mutton-heads seems as absurd to me as the Star Trek episode where the racial armageddon on the planet springs from one half of the population being black on the left side, the other on the right (Let That Be Your Last Battlefield). Secondly, did anyone ever really LIKE Alexis Smith? or did she just get work because she was one of maybe two actresses in Hollywood (the other being Olivia de Havilland) who didn't hate Flynn?
Like all of Flynn's Westerns, it's not about the outlaw or the man alone, it's about the friendly, clever bloke who's going to tame the West, bring in some culture, throw up some fences, see that folks do their drinking properly on a Saturday night before cleaning up for church the next day. It's the kind of Western in which I have little interest. Some of them are better than others, yes, and this is not one of those. Characters are introduced, coddled, and dropped (like the Lassie-dog. She's the love of his life, she instigates an important plot-twist, and then promptly vanishes), as are relationships (who's that girl kissing Alexis Smith's fiance? is she a plot-point in woman's clothing?)
There is nothing in this movie that doesn't show up in more successful guise in other Flynn Westerns, either Silver River, Virginia City, Dodge City, or San Antonio. Watch those instead, along with Rocky Mountain and Santa Fe Trail, and leave this one to languish on the shelf. San Antonio sports all the same weaknesses this one does, but it has a lovely night-time climax which makes up some for it. This one has a cattle/sheep stampede screen-projected ridiculously behind the heroes and villains as they duke it out in the end, and it resembles a joke more than a climax.
Rocky Mountain: (1950. dir: William Keighley) This is easily my favorite of Flynn's Westerns. He's Captain Lafe Barstow, leading a seedy band of Confederate soldiers to California to muster up troops for Lee in the final plunge of the war. Instead, they find themselves trapped on a rocky outcrop with Yankee prisoners in tow and surrounded by a bellicose band of Shoshone. The rock and nearby canyon are particularly photogenic, and cinematographer Ted McCord uses the land's rich texturing, along with a lovely variance of velvet darknesses, and some of the best, most unpretentious framing you'll see in a Western, to give us a thing of beauty. The plot moves along at a suspenseful pace, and Flynn gives the best performance of his career, I think, at least this side of his heartbreaker in the Sun Also Rises. He doesn't use the dimples; he doesn't force the charm. There is a wonderful, subtle weariness to his delivery, punctuated by the occasional sparkle of optimism. He has gravitas here, a natural force of command not dependent on his usual tricks.
In fact, there's very little wrong with this movie. There's an odd prologue in which a modern-day car drives up and let us read the monument telling us that this is indeed based on truth, and it feels superfluous and television-inspired. The other thing is that the dog has its own jaunty theme-song, which dates the piece pretty badly. And, truth be told, the dog itself is a blatant piece of emotional blackmail. It's as if they didn't trust us to care about a raggedy pack of Johnny Rebs unless a pooch showed us how.
None of that matters. The Indians ride in graceful, intimidating circles in the aftermath of battles, the Rebs are stalwart and, inevitably, lose, but with undeniable honour. It's got people like Slim Whitman, back when he was truly slim, and Guinn "Big Boy" Williams among the soldiers. The script speaks with easy elegance about the strangeness of war. It's a beautiful movie.
This is where Errol Flynn met his last wife. Lauren Bacall was originally slated to play the role, and refused, bringing some contract woes down on her head, but Flynn and Patrice Wymore must have worked well together, because they were still undivorced, albeit separated, at the time of his death nine years later.
No comments:
Post a Comment