Red River, 1948.
Directed by Howard Hawks.
Starring John Wayne, Montgomery Clift, Walter Brennan, Joanne Dru, Coleen Gray, Harry Carey, John Ireland, Hank Worden, Noah Beery Jr. and Harry Carey, Jr.
SYNOPSIS:
A fued erupts between a Texan rancher and his adopted son on a cattle drive along the Chisholm Trail.
“He moved the way singers sing, with huge confidence and daring. You have to imagine how it all began in the way Raoul Walsh saw him carrying that armchair – as if it was a young girl in a red robe being lifted up in mercy and wonder.” - David Thompson
John Wayne’s eyes are curious features, the squinted creases defining him as much as his slow drawl or cowboy’s swagger. At times his eyes disappear altogether in those slits. They’re like a castle’s windows, long and thin for archers to shoot out of; perfect for defence, and advantageous to attack from.
Red River opens with Wayne’s character, Dunston, leaving his girl behind on a stagecoach. He clearly loves her very much. They even share one of those Classical Hollywood clinches, where kissing is just two faces being pushed together at the lips. Dunston is off to start a ranch near the Mexican border and make his fortune. She can visit as soon as it’s safe.
When away from the stagecoach, he hears the howling of Indians and gunfight. Those eyes widen briefly as the first yells are heard, but only for an instant. The stagecoach is half a day’s trek away now and his love is surely dead. Only a young boy, Matt, makes it out alive, who Dunston takes under his wing. Wayne’s eyes narrow, shutting the world out but a few, loyal men. He’s the walking Alamo.
But this is just the prelude, the establishment of Dunston’s hard-hearted character and a necessity for us to identify with him through the cruelty and violence he displays later on. It is now two decades later and Dunston has the largest ranch of cattle in the region, employing half the men in the surrounding town. Matt has grown up into a fine gunfighter (now played by Montgomery Cliff), but has also learnt restraint and humanity from his time in the civil war – a contrast to the cold, steely heart of Dunston. But business has dried and Dunston, in his incredible stubbornness, commands an epic 100-day 10,000 cattle drive, the longest and largest ever undertaken, to forge a new trail across the Midwest.
In the first days of the drive, although there is a strong sense of camaraderie, a heavy tension hangs in the air. This is because of the herd’s size, and that the slightest noise - a coyote howl, a snapping twig - could launch them into a deadly stampede. The men sit around the campfire with noise, not Indians, as their enemy.
These scenes of high tension, but with relatively little action, give the many characters and their relationships time to develop. Hawks treats these interplays with great craft, making us emotionally invested in a lot of different characters, as though we’re a part of their trailblazing efforts. However, the relationships quickly become strained. The main conflict sets Dunston against everyone else. He pushes them without rest in his near-psychotic crusade. In the moonlight, or the flicker of the campfire’s flame, those eyes could be mistaken for Colonel Kurtz. A mutiny beckons…
John Wayne is so compelling precisely because he is fully aware of his own faults, yet knows his stubbornness will stop their remedy. He is powerless to do anything other than belittle and harm those he holds dear, and it torments him to do so. But he always commits acts of great kindness because he’s too proud to apologise directly. It lets us know of the strange, hurt old man underneath his bold exterior. Then once he’s saved the day, or rescued the girl, he’s left alone – absolved for his stubbornness, but still alone. Dunston losing his love early on is hardly mentioned for the rest of Red River, but it’s always present in that squint.
Red River is a long and rewarding film, built upon characters and conflict. Although they fight amongst each other, one never forgets that their main struggle is with the American West itself. They cannot conquer the land, for it is immovable, but they can forge paths along its surface. Those black and white horses and horizons are the stuff for which nostalgia was made. True, cinematic magic.
Oli Davis
365 Days, 100 Films
Movie Review Archive
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