Red River (1948)

   John Ford was as famous for abusing his actors as much as for his brilliance as a director. So it must have come as quite a compliment when he commented on John  Wayne's performance in 'Red River', "I didn't know the big son of a bitch could act." And to think, the Duke had only been in 10 Ford movies before that...
   This movie was based on a Saturday Evening Post story by Borden Chase, who along with screenwriter Charles Schnee adopted it for the screen. Might explain the diary entries that pop up onscreen at various times as the story progresses. Duke takes a dark turn in his first pairing with director Howard Hawks. His role is Tom Dunson, a stubborn man who won't mind ya for nuthin', not even for the love of his woman. An Indian raid takes her, and all he gets for his troubles as he crosses into Texas is a young boy he finds with a cow. That boy, Matthew Garth, will be like a son to Dunson. Walter Brennan is there as Groot, the first of many old coots to appear alongside the Duke in years to come.
   The pair turn out to be two sides of the same stubborn coin, the main difference being Matt hasn't entirely lost his heart. For Dunson, that's a sign of weakness. 14 years pass and Dunson has the biggest damn ranch in all of Texas, which pretty much counts for squat unless he can get over 900 head of cattle to market in Missouri. The make-up effects on the Duke as he transitions to an older man are extraordinary. His change from a stern taskmaster goes from bad to worse as the cattle drive progresses. Word comes to them of a quicker route to Abilene, but Dunson is too dense to chance it.
   It's a bit like those wildebeest migrations you see on National Geographic, with cattle substituted, jostling across rivers and prairies. The inevitable stampede is brought on by a klutz who's fond of stealing sugar from the grub wagon. At one point Dunson is about to hang two deserters, and that's when Matt is forced to take charge. He leaves Dunson, his mentor and father-figure, with a shot-up hand and Dunson's promise that he's gonna kill him.
   Of course thee's the circle of wagons surrounded by Indians, where Matt meets his lady love Tess Millay after he rides into the wagon train. She's a plucky young lass with a bad shot. She's still joking with him, even after she gets an arrow in the shoulder. Like Dunson before him Matt can't stay, but he leaves her with the bracelet Dunson had given him, the one that had belonged to his dead lover.
   The shadow of Dunson is never far from anyone's mind. In fact he's only ten days behind Matt's drive when he encounters the wagon train. Tess matches wits with Dunson, persuading him to bring her with the gang of desperadoes he's rounded up to deal with Matt.
   After last minute doubts and foreboding, the cattle drive crosses the tracks into Abilene, and boy is that conductor glad to see them, or at least their beef. Western hero Harry Carey Sr. greets them in Abilene as Melville, the man about to buy their cattle. This would be the veteran's fourth and final time to appear alongside the Duke in film.
   The fateful confrontation with Dunson arrives, for which I have only one gripe. We know he's brought about a dozen hired killers with him to Abilene, but--they don't DO anything! They don't even follow Dunson as he tramples into town. They simply disappear, out of sight and mind. It's like he doesn't even need them, which leads to the inevitable question: why the hell did he hired them in the first place?
   Even the cattle know to get out of his way. Now granted John Wayne isn't the best actor in the world, but once he fixes that dark, angry glare on you, even the strongest man wants to run away. He has that scowl on every step he takes toward Matt, firing left and right while Matt never flinches. Just when you think he's gonna beat the crap out of him--WHOMP! Matt comes to life and meets him blow for blow.
   The only thing that stops them is Tess coming in with a few well-placed shots. She then treats both men to the tongue-lashing they've both had coming, verbally unloading on them with both barrels. She leaves them both tongue-tied; I guess it takes a woman all fired up to effect a reconciliation between two such hard nuts.
   Speaking of which, this was Montgomery Clift's film debut, a great source of discomfort for the Duke not only because their political views didn't square, but on account of Cleft's homosexuality. Everyone agreed to put politics aside, which made shooting that much easier, but the OTHER thing...Nobody gives a lick about that nowadays--everybody knows there's a large contingent of gay actors in Hollywood. In 1948, in fact until very recently, nobody talked about it at all. John Ireland (Cherry Valance), another gay co-star, was Clift's emm, buddy at the time, shall we say. Not that there's anything wrong about that...
   Yeh, I've run on and on too much about this film, but that's because it's that good, livid with breath-taking scenery, unconvincing backdrops, a tense drama and one of the darkest performances of Duke's career. Expertly recommended.

Santa Fe Stampede (1938)

   They killed a child. Those fekking schmucks actually killed a child.
   This is a dark chapter in the Duke's tenure in the Three Mesquiteers film series. The American Movie Channel tell us this Hollywood movie has the dubious distinction of being the first where a child is murdered by the villain. At the risk of being sexist, the scriptwriters for this film oddly enough were both women.
   The first thing that happens is the Mequiteers ignore a sign that says Keep Out, and are promptly held up at gunpoint by two children. These youngins' have been chasing everyone off their daddy's gold claim, even the horse thieves trying to take his land.  Well, the Mesquiteers' old friend Carson is giving them a half-share in his claim; unfortunately he hasn't dared leave home to record it, on account of the crooked Mayor of Santa Fe Junction.
   It goes from bad to worse. The people are divided, the Mayor owns the sheriff and his deputies. Only Judge Hixon has any sort of conscience, and he's sorely lacking in backbone. Carson is murdered on his way to the capital to file a petition with the governor, along with his little daughter Julie. When the judge protested that there's a little girl with him, right before the hired thugs rode off, the Mayor snorted, "So what?"
   Naturally John Wayne's character Stoney is falsely accused of the deed. Of course the Mayor's thugs encourage a thick-headed mob to take the law into their own hands. This wasn't the first time the Duke's faced an angry feeble-minded lynch mob, and this one may be the worst of the bunch, taking in not only the 'decent menfolk' of the town but even the town tramps and the old hags. They come damn close to burning Stoney and his girlfriend Nancy alive in the jail. That is one of the most intense cliffhanger scenes I've come across in a Republic picture, especially since this wasn't technically a cliffhanger serial.
   In the end it ends exactly as Adam West would put it: "You poor fools, you can't escape justice," Judge Hixon finally develops enough spine to send a telegraph calling in the US Marshals. The Mayor is exposed and brought down. By and large a very enjoyable outing, although I must caution you, that poor child's cries just before her daddy's wagon is overturned will break your heart.

Cancel My Reservation (1972) --please

   Some movies should not be allowed to exist. With the right source material a movie can be a wonderful experience. In the hands of idiots, an afternoon of water-boarding would be preferable. This turkey was the 50th & last film in the distinguished career of Bob Hope, and plainly he was in no ways ready to transition to the new decade.
   TV personality Dan Bartlett (Hope) is having marriage problems, so he and his wife Sheila (Eva Marie Saint) go for some well-deserved time off at his Arizona ranch. Bodies start turning up in his trunk, Dan comes and goes in and out of jail more times than the Joker out of Arkham. Even given how far off the track they take the book that the basic story was stolen from, there is no excuse for the absence of laughs here. This was Bob-fekking-HOPE!!! We should be rolling in the aisles, not clenching our teeth and staring at our watches.
   That this was based on a Louis L'Amor novel makes it doubly-sinful. The source material, 1966's The Broken Gun, while not a classic at least was a quick read with unexpected turns. The hero, Dan Sheridan finds a journal in a broken gun that leads to a 90-year-old mystery. The rancher and his hair-lipped killer Reese think Dan will be easy to kill, except for the one thing they hadn't counted on: Dan is no greenhorn writer. He was born and raised in Arizona, he knows the land and he is a Korean War veteran.
   Reese is probably the only character from the novel who translates whole to the big screen; but even Forrest Tucker as the evil man can't save this picture.
     Nominally I've been blogging on John Wayne movies, and thankfully he has only a cameo. Sheriff 'Houndtooth' Riley (Keenan Wynn) has just warned Bob Hope that "Mob rule may prevail.", although where they'd get a mob in what is practically a ghost town I'll never know. After that Bob or Dan has a waking nightmare in his jail cell wherein he is the guest at a necktie party. Everyone shows up to watch--Johnny Carson, his old movie partner Bing Crosby & Flip Wilson. Even John Wayne is out there in the crowd laughing it up and he tells Dan, "I'd like to help ya, pilgrim, but it's not my picture!" Amen to that, Duke.

'The War Wagon' (1967) review

By this time we can all agree that in every role he's taken, John Wayne plays himself. This time around he's a bit like the monolith; you know it's there and it kind of dominates the scenery but that's not the most important part of it. The Duke shares co-star status with Kirk Douglas. I like him better here, he's got that devil-may-care personality, and he gets all the best lines of the movie.

Duke plays Taw Jackson, a man wronged by Pierce--just Pierce--, a man who stole Taw's land for the gold stake, framed Taw and sent him to jail. Now that he's on parole, Taw means to get back at Pierce by robbing his money wagon. One problem: this 'wagon' is an armored carriage, with a Gatling gun, which is guarded by 30 men on horseback. No problem.

Basically it's a caper movie with cowboys and Indians. Taw hires for his crew old man Fletcher and his abused teenage wife, the 'smart' Indian Levi Walking Bear, and a drunken explosives expert, Billy Hyatt (Robert Walker Jr.). The last member of the crew is Lomax, played by the irrepresible Kirk Douglas. Pierce has a mind to hire gunslinger and safe-cracker Lomax to kill Taw, except Taw hires him first. Neither man trusts the other, but that's the sparks that keeps things moving.

Told you Kirk gets the best lines? Well, they've gone to find Levi Walking Bear and they find him all right...tied to a rock and used as target practice for a band of drunken Mexican banditos. Lomax takes one look at that and remarks dryly to Taw, "Let me guess which one's your friend."

Naturally we have the stereotypes, the drunken Mexicans and the untrustworthy Indians. Still it's an entertaining outing that never drags. The Duke is straight man to Kirk in their last film together and they milk for laughs. Recommended.

May Your Grandchildren Forgive You

I hope my grandchildren forgive you
for what you brought on our land
for the world we leave to them

Forgive the desert that was once California
the parched land and tongues of ordinary souls
rationed to a few drips a day
or will that be a week, who knows?

Forgive the 30 years wasted in deceit and denial
while simulations became fact
and facts piled on facts
and opportunities to act became wasted in dithering politics

And to the passing of the Floridas
while salt of sea infiltrated our children's drinking supplies
I fear not for New Orleans, she'll adapt
she always does

Forgive us the storms like no other
coming to a landmark near you
New York barraged by tides she'll not soon forget
Lady Liberty will stand as a beacon still
even waist deep in the ocean

I certainly hope they can find it in their hearts
to forgive your cowardice, your avarice,
your blind blinkered stupidity
'Cos God knows I won't

Jane Fonda was right--and she was wrong

     Jane Fonda was partially right in comparing the Viet Cong to our heroes in the Revolutionary War. She was also catagorically wrong. Excuse me, how was that again? Sorry, I just go off on tangents sometimes. My mind has been on World War I a lot lately, it'll be 100 years ago this year that it started, and nobody seems to give a rip.
   My thinking had gone in this direction: a lot of the battles of WWI came down to a strategy of attrition, which is basically throwing thousands of bodies of good young soldiers at the enemy in the hope that this will somehow wear them down. It never worked, yet we practiced the same 'strategy' in Iraq, and before that in Viet Nam which is where Jane Fonda just popped randomly into my thoughts,
    People my age will remember (some better than me assuredly) that in 1972 or thereabouts Jane Fonda famously compared the Viet Cong fighters to our people fighting in the American Revolution. Let me just say I have no animosity toward Ms. Fonda; I have no bitter hatred toward her for that statement, nor have I ever had. But people tend to get uppity about such cracks, and fail to put them under a metaphorical microscope for analysis.
     Well, yes it is true the Viet Cong were a rag tag army fighting the most powerful nation on Earth, and like our heroes they too were trying to repel a foreign invader. Their nation like colonial America is a strip of coastal land which they shouldn't have had a chance in hell of winning. Its at this point that the similarities end.
     For one, the American colonies were not divided by an arbitrary line drawn in the map, a characteristic this war shared with Korea. For another, our rebels never practiced torture, and we never threw British prisoners into squalid hellholes to rot; there were no 'Hanoi Hiltons' in our Revolution. The 'foreign invaders' in fact were fellow Englishmen the vast majority of us were reluctant to fight, at least until Common Sense ignited our collective ire.
     I suppose the biggest difference was that our leaders did not immediately turn on us once the war was won. The first eight years of our nation was under a weak central government under a weak constitution known as the Articles of Confederation. The states did not contribute their share in  tax revenue, we often did not even have a quorum in Congress to conduct silly business like foreign relations and trade; and the 'President' of Congress had no power to compel Congress to act. Hell, he had to act as his own Secretary, sorting through all correspondence, foreign and domestic, without even the help of a clerk. You can see how our present Constitution is a distinct improvement.
     Anyone who grew up in the 70's knows the united Communist Vietnamese government was no friend of the people. There was the usual war on intellectuals, and re-education camps. You don't think there would be so many 'boat people' risking their lives at sea in dangerously rickety boats if their government was a model of good will and generosity, do ya?
    That's just my thoughts for the day. I would hope in the future some people would think things through before running off at the mouth with the first thing that pops into their heads, but we can;t expect as much from this generation of political hair-lips, can we? Thanks for the listen.

So NOT the Dark Continent

     Every Saturday at 2 p.m. growing up my brother David & I parked our butts in front of the TV for 'Jungle Theater'. We wasted many an afternoon watching the studio jungle-set adventures of Johnny Weissmuller & other Tarzan wannabes. Sundays were reserved for 'Sci-Fi Theater', another arena for bad 1950's films, which often included Godzilla flicks with awful out-of-sync voice-overs.
     There are two points to be made here; (1) 40 years later & there's still nothing worthwhile to be found on Saturday afternoon TV, & (2) Most of what we 'know' about Africa is still wrong.
     It was probably the mix of bad Tarzan reruns & old comic books that led to my choice of Africa as the milleu for most of my fantastic fiction. The thing is, I don't think I chose Africa, it chose ME. The things I've learned in the process of researching my stories have been rewarding in every sense--except the financial one, of course.
     In developing my characters & backdrop for my first novel Butterfly & Serpent, & the short stories leading up to it, I relied heavily on Jomo Kenyatta's autobiography, Facing Mount Kenya which is not a book you tend to find in most public libraries (I found it in my high school library, actually). Locations such as the mighty Lake Turkana, the ancient Christian rock churches of Ethiopia & the ruins of Great Zimbabwe are important characters in the follow-up book which is in progress.
     My biggest fear is someday somebody from Africa is going to read my stuff & he/she will proceed to tell me everything that I got wrong. And all I'm going to be able to do is throw up my hands & howl, "AAAARRRGH! He's right, how could I have been so stoopid?"
     There is a history beyond what you'll learn from any Tarzan flick. Tarzan, by the way, wouldn't last a week in Africa. Or maybe Richard Pryor was right & they'd all think he was just a crazy white man, living in the trees with the baboons. Our schools take great pains to avoid the rich history Africa has to offer us. Oh you'll hear the wonders of ancient Europe--Rome, Greece, maybe the old empires of Japan or China thrown in--that's assuming any of you young whipper-snappers are even paying attention to history class. But Africa? Huh. It might as well not exist, baby.
     Word up, charlie, your ancestors strolled out of Africa many moons ago, so you might as well reconcile yourself to that fact. We've all got a little African in us.