Evolution Of The Western 101

Barbara Stanwyck's star shines bright as desert daylight in this 1950 B&W Western, now Criterion resto-discovery.

Stanwyck's the incredibly strong-willed woman that rides herd rough-shod over the family's 1870ish sprawling New Mexico cattle ranch - as well as running her own father (Huston) through an incestuous relationship (veiled just enough to rattlesnake past mid-Century censors) built upon his eerie pining for his dead wife.

Meanwhile, Stanwyck has to corral Huston's gold-digging suitor (Anderson) to keep Daddy well roped. On the side, Stanwyck's romping with her childhood sweetheart, the leader of the ranch's Mexican squatters/rustlers (also implied, due to its untimely racial content) who are positioning for clear gunshot at Huston.

And Stanwyck's also wooing the dapper saloon-owner (Corey) who's scheming to steal away the ranch for his own - and who happens to be the only man who can turn Stanwyck into a whimpering, submissive school-girl with a mere rap across the face - or so it seems.

All Stanwyck's juggling and scheming is toward ensuring the family keeps tight rein over the future that Dad once carved for them out of the scrub-brush.

Taken together, it's as much Shakespearean tempest as celluloid can likely hold - and more than enough to fill an entire volume of Freudian analysis. Sourced from a 1948 Niven Busch novel, visionary in its casting of a strong female protagonist within a Western.

Stanwyck's stellar dramatic performance - and all the suspenseful twists surrounding who's going to catch lead and who's going to get the deed to the ranch - add up to a solid, smart, top-tier Western only now finding its due, thanks to the efforts of Criterion. Naturally, Criterion has stuffed the disc full with extras.

RECOMMENDATION: Worthy viewing.

Considered to be Western director John Ford's best work as well as among the best films of all time.

The film drips with gorgeous Technicolor and Vistavision cinematography of Monument Valley, and other well-composed shots throughout - including bookending the film with timeless, enduring images of Wayne stanced crossed-armed, hip-cocked, backdropped in Western frontier, framed by a dark doorway.

That doorway represents the ambivalent racist ethic of the 1860s West as presented through Wayne's character. As the film progresses, Wayne and the West step through that threshold, past their existing hatred and prejudices - and into a more tolerant and racially-cooperative world that would be the West's future.

At Act 1, Wayne turns up at the family spread, overdue by years from his Civil War return, toting ill-gotten gold, a silent adoration for his sister-in-law and a hatred for Indians - even though his talent with Indian dialects suggests a long history of doing business with them closely.

When Comanches kill Wayne's brother and sister-in-law, and kidnap their child, Wayne's niece (Natalie Wood), Wayne becomes psychotically obsessed with finding her - perhaps to save her, perhaps to kill her, given she's now "spoiled by a buck." Yet Wayne allows the adopted son, 1/8th Indian blood himself, to saddle up as sidekick.

The five-year search allows the viewer to carefully observe Wayne's prejudices wax/wane throughout his dealings with the son, throughout his intentions for the child when found, as well as throughout his other dealings with Indians and Mexicans, including those who straddle acceptance within the white man's world.

Wayne delivers an extraordinary performance as a conflicted character, eminently sure of himself yet fully aware of his inconsistent posture, as a character with such admirable ethic yet such despicable racism.

RECOMMENDATION: Essential viewing.

Eastwood, fresh out of Sergio Leone's spaghetti Western trilogy ("Fistful of Dollars," "A Few Dollars More" & "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly"), here comes back to America to take the reins of Hollywood's imitation of the genre.

Eastwood, who DOES actually have a name in this film (Jed Cooper), is falsely accused of murder and barely escapes a lynch mob's noose. The local hangin' judge (Pat Hingle) finds Clint innocent and pins a badge on his chest, a license for Eastwood to hunt down those who done him wrong.

But will Clint gun 'em down or bring 'em in for trial? There's a lot of polite patter regarding the morality of justice-by-law and capital punishment, but most of what's on the dinner table is revenge served up cold ala Chef Clint.

Hingle's characterization, including the hanging of six convicts simultaneously, is based on the historical facts surrounding Judge Issac Parker of Fort Smith, Arkansas, who held the Oklahoma Territory jurisdiction in the last half of the 19th Century.

Clint's lovely love interest Ingar Stevens committed suicide less than two years after this film, despondent over her flagging film career and her series of fleeting high-profile romances.

Clint here solidifies the stoic screen persona embedded by Leone - a persona that would soon enough translate directly into his characterization of San Fran's "one man against the system" detective Dirty Harry.

RECOMMENDATION: Essential Eastwood.

A gunslinger with strong moral character (Wayne) is dying of cancer and so spends his final days carrying himself with dignity, preparing his own noble death.

All while wooing a judgmental older woman (Bacall) into knowing his better side, and setting her young boy (Howard) upon the beginning of his own path of righteousness.

Backstory enriches this film as few others; Wayne was himself dying of cancer, ending a strong career built entirely upon the portrayal of lone individuals holding strong ethical fiber, individuals following their own moral/just compasses - in spite of the odds against, in spite the perceptions and judgments of others.

That consistency implied, of course, that Wayne chose his roles so as to complement his own personal ethos. Accordingly, the nobility found within this portrayal of life's end is also Wayne's final tribute to, and portrayal of, his own steadfast values. In telling the story of the difference between a dying man and the legend that surrounds him, Wayne is telling his own story as well. Such a truly textured telling makes this film a far richer object lesson and sets it well within the short list of great Westerns.

RECOMMENDATION: Tell the undertaker to set the table for bad company; Wayne's ridin' into town to set things right - one last time. Strongly recommended viewing

The Academy, bursting with admiration for this extraordinarily accomplished neo-Western homage, lavished this film with Best Picture, Best Directing and Best Screenplay Oscars, over several strong competitors.

The setting, the 1980s border drug wars, is a-fur-piece from Monument Valley. The MacGuffin is a cash-brimming satchel, salvaged from some anonymous deal gone sour.

From the beginning, it's made clear that the cash is also of surprisingly little concern to the film's major characters - for each, there are higher principles at stake. As with any enduring Western, the characters' dilemmas and ethics form the front-stage material. And those of weaker ethic aren't left standing long.

The film delivers a powerful triple study of character, each toting in his holster a different interpretation of honor, ethic, morality and social order:

* Unlikely satchel-grabber Brolin wields a poorly-formed ethic - and its slightest inconsistencies bear high price.

* Bardem, bounty hunting for the black hats, is armed with an initially puzzling behavior that slowly reveals to be an ethic that is principled, consistent and well-considered - making for a powerful weapon.

* The small-town sheriff (Jones) hails from a day where criminal ethic was far more simplistic and well-defined: criminals steal and run & Jones chases. Jones finds Brolin easy pickins' but Bardem's actions perplex - and Jones searches in vein for the showdown he is owed.

The well saddled-up viewer rides alongside this trio of ethos as they nomadically wander a bloodied trail toward a High Noon, a three-way "Mexican shootout" - of sorts.

The film extends the lineage of the neo-Western into new territory and makes explicit - even in its dialogue - that the genre's robustness and endurance draws from its moral and ethical themes, not its scenery.

RECOMMENDATION: You bet, partner.