Showing posts with label john wayne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john wayne. Show all posts

Thursday, July 15, 2021

In short: The Comancheros (1961)

After arresting professional gambler – and man with an awesome name – Paul Regret (Stuart Whitman) for killing a man in a duel in Louisiana, Texas Ranger Jake Cutter (John Wayne) repeatedly finds himself pushed into teaming up with the guy. Especially once the Ranger he gets the mission to break up a very particular gang of arms dealers known as Comancheros that rile up (and arm) the Comanches. The usual stuff about growing respect and understanding happens, of course.

This John Wayne (and Stuart Whitman) vehicle is the final movie directed by Michael Curtiz, director of many a great movie and some that annoyed me considerably (and may still be great movies if you’re not me) and it is very much a mixed bag. It’s certainly  one of those Westerns that doesn’t play very well today ideologically, its crappy treatment of Native Americans having a certain whiff of conviction instead of being a mere genre trope, which doesn’t really surprise given its star’s real life politics.

Structurally, it’s a bit of a mess, often playing more as a series of scenes connected by very tenuous strands than a proper narrative or a character piece. On the positive side, at least half of those single scenes are very strong indeed, particularly whenever the film posits Wayne - at this stage of his career still not a great actor but one who had gotten very comfortable with the possibilities afforded by his considerable screen presence - as a guy who is actually hiding quite a bit of wisdom about matters of the human heart he has won through hard experience under his tough guy exterior. There’s some good Western action too, though the Indian attacks tend to the overly generic, and Curtiz doesn’t always seem to have the staging as well in hand as he could.

The film is also spending too little time on its most interesting character, Pilar Graile (Ina Balin), the daughter of the Comanchero leader as well as the instant love of Whitman’s life and the problems of being an independent (clearly raised Libertarian, poor kid) woman falling in love but wanting to keep control of her life. Balin is great with what the film gives her, really making much of the fact the script isn’t portraying her character as a shrew nor as an idiot once she’s properly in love. I really want a remake that’s all about her.

Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Big Jake (1971)

1909. In what’s still not quite a civilized West of the USA, the outlaw gang of John Fain (Richard Boone) attacks the prosperous McCandles ranch, nearly killing one of the family’s sons, while murdering quite a few people and last but not least kidnapping the McCandles’ grandson, Little Jake (Ethan Wayne), for a ransom. Apart from getting together the humungous ransom money of a million dollars, family matriarch Martha (Maureen O’Hara) calls in her estranged husband Jacob aka Big Jake (John Wayne), deeming him the proper kind of brute to deal with brutes.

Jake hasn’t seen (or written to) his sons for over a decade, apparently roaming the West increasing his already huge reputation as a frightening badass, so the family reunion is even more strained than the situation would suggest. But needs must, so Jake has to team up with his sons, the slick-ish James (actual Wayne son Patrick) and the younger Michael (Christopher Mitchum, of course the son of Robert). Everyone will learn a valuable lesson: the best way to solve family troubles is to punch each other in the face a lot, apparently. The bad guys clearly don’t stand a chance.

This final big screen outing directed by George Sherman (he still shot some TV episodes afterwards) is certainly one of the better John Wayne vehicles of its era. It is neither trying to crib from the Spaghetti Western book nor make gestures towards the revisionist Western, which were seldom directions that worked well with Wayne in the lead, instead making much of the more traditional (though not squeaky clean) Western.

There are obviously elements that will not have aged well for every viewer today. It’s not difficult to imagine a reading of the film as celebrating toxic masculinity or some such for all of the scenes in which the male McCandles solve their interpersonal problems by hitting each other in the face (with Wayne inevitably knocking his – grown – sons out). I found this business mostly funny, the film simply realizing that having these larger than life cowboys right at the end of the line for their idea of the West solving their interpersonal problems with a civilized heart to heart (or a stupid shouting match) like you or I would simply doesn’t feel believable in the world of the film, while their solving their problems with companionable violence seems rather fitting to them and their lives, and also funnier.

And this is a film that likes having its little chuckles: apart from the joys of family violence, there’s a lot of comedic business about the contrast between the Old West and all the new ideas and objects that come in from the less rough East, mostly exemplified through Jake’s exasperated reaction to all the new-fangled stuff his sons are into, from automatic guns to motorcycles. Big Jake does of course use this opportunity to put a motorcycle stunt into its Western business, too, for why wouldn’t it? There’s some not completely uninteresting subtext hidden away here too, James and Michael representing young men caught right in the middle between the old and radically new ways, not quite belonging to the former side like Jake, his old buddy Sam Sharpnose (Bruce Cabot) and the villains of the piece do, but also being rather too far away from the places where the new is really happening to be completely part of that, particularly when they go on an old school bandit hunt with their dad.

There’s a lot of cool, classic Western business happening in said bandit hunt too. Sherman seems to go out of his way to include every single type of traditional Western set piece in the movie, all of them realized with great gusto, timing, but also a sense for mood building that’s not always been common in the genre. A particular favourite here is obvious the long showdown between Jake and co and the gang of villains, a showdown that includes a sharpshooter duel, various sub-shootouts, some machete action, and starts with a fantastic staring contest between Wayne and Boone (that also includes some very clever dialogue), both of whom give a hell of a performance against each other. The way Wayne twists Boone’s own threats against him before the shooting really starts is utterly brilliant, hitting home that Wayne may have been an actor with a limited scope but also one who could work wonders inside of it.

Big Jake does very well with its villains, too, providing every one of them with enough (nasty) character to make them memorable threats. On the hero side, things aren’t quite as interesting, but then, part of the point of the whole affair is how larger than life Jake is compared to his surroundings, so him being the centre of non-villainous affairs is not (just) Wayne being vain, but the film following its own argument. Which doesn’t mean there’s nothing of interest happening around him – son Patrick and Chris Mitchum are a lot more expressive here than later in their careers (the latter is in fact repeatedly showing off a range of facial expressions he seems to lose over the next decade). It’s a bit of a shame that Maureen O’Hara’s role isn’t larger than it is, for she quite believably plays the only person in the movie willing and able to call Jake on his shit, and also able to win without punching. But then, Big Jake really isn’t a movie about calling macho heroes on their shit (though the film at least does not approve of Jake just ignoring his family for years) but celebrating them going for one last wild ride before the wild rides stop existing.

Tuesday, May 18, 2021

In short: The Train Robbers (1973)

Aging, upright gunfighter Lane (John Wayne), his – also not exactly fresh - buddies Grady (Rod Taylor) and Jesse (Ben Johnson) and their new, comparatively young, hired help Calhoun (Christopher George) and Ben Young (Bobby Vinton) are hired by widow Mrs Lowe (Ann-Margret) for a rather interesting project. Mrs Lowe knows where her late husband hid quite a bit of gold he robbed from a railway company, and needs some experienced gun hands to get it for her. Or really, as it turns out, to accompany her to the gold, for she’s not that trusting. She’s not planning to keep the stuff, mind you, but wants to return it to the railway company to wash her husband’s name clean in the eyes of their son.

The gold is hidden across the border in Mexico, and obviously, Mrs Lowe and her men aren’t the only ones interested in it, making their little project rather dangerous. And that’s before you add the natural dangers of crossing the desert where the gold is hidden and the – pretty mild – tensions in the group to the mix of dangers.

This Burt Kennedy joint isn’t the kind of Western that goes terribly hard or terribly deep, playing a bit too nice with its characters for my taste. Everyone here resolves their conflicts a bit too easily and too pat, and apart from some leering at Ann-Margret and the usual Wayne bluster, there doesn’t seem to be a mean bone in any non-bandit’s body here. From time to time, there are some pleasantly off-handed moments concerned with the plight of being an old man in a young man’s job (certainly something gun hands and our actors have in common, exceptions notwithstanding) that add a bit of melancholy to the mix.

This doesn’t mean the film isn’t a entertaining time – Kennedy is after all an old pro with the genre and knows how to keep this more amiable style of Western far from the Italian style or the revisionist Western (some of whose predecessors were ironically enough scripted by Kennedy with rather more depth than this one) engaging and fun.

There are also some pretty spectacular nature shots, and – eventually – some fine action set pieces to keep the willing viewer diverted, again keeping The Train Robbers fun throughout, though seldom more.