An Appreciation for MAN OF THE WEST (1958)

Anthony Mann (1906-1967) directed some of the most respected western films of the 20th century (WINCHESTER '73, BEND OF THE RIVER) and arguably his crowning achievement was MAN OF THE WEST (1958). Somehow, this extraordinary cinematic gem starring Gary Cooper and Lee J. Cobb escaped my viewing until last month. I've now watched it three times (it's currently streaming on Amazon Prime) and plan to watch it even more. In my ever shifting top five, MAN OF THE WEST joins McCABE & MRS. MILLER, MONTE WALSH, WILL PENNY, and THE OX-BOW INCIDENT.

The demonstrative screenplay by Reginald Rose was based on THE BORDER JUMPERS (1955) by Will C. Brown. I savor so many aspects of this narrative with the King Lear hat tip, the cowboy who can't escape his past trope (but packaged fresh here), and how, once bitten, you can never quite rid yourself of the venom that flows through your psyche. No character is so minor as not to have a well developed backstory, helping to drive the overall plot.

Inspired by MAN OF THE WEST, I wrote this little free verse homage. I hope you enjoy. And I'm interested in what you think of Mann's movies.

Like a Sickness Come Back (after Man of the West)

Growing up killing, thieving,
and running, was all Link Jones
had known—his uncle Dock Tobin
saw to that, teaching him outlawing.
Uncle Dock would laugh, reminisce
of that time they stole eleven grand
and Link held on to an innocent man
as Dock took the guy's head off.

Dock's self proclaimed “right arm”
grew weary of notched guns,
fast draws, and wanted poster fame.
He had more of his late ma and pa's
grit in him—more Jones than Tobin spit.
It took time but Link came into his own
learning to not bet everything on the throw
of the dice, border jumping and the wild life.

Yes, indeed, Link escaped those blood ties
"Rot or become better," he said,
and believed what he preached, for a time.
Until, by bad luck, he saw Uncle Dock again
and the rest of his knuckle dragging kin
Link felt like killing them and that’s just
what he did saying that it was,
“Like a sickness come back.”

---

David Cranmer is the editor of the BEAT to a PULP webzine and whose own body of work has appeared in such diverse publications as The Five-Two: Crime Poetry Weekly, Needle: A Magazine of Noir, LitReactor, Macmillan’s Criminal Element, and Chicken Soup for the Soul. Under the pen name Edward A. Grainger he created the Cash Laramie western series. He's a dedicated Whovian who enjoys jazz and backgammon. He can be found in scenic upstate New York where he lives with his wife and daughter.

ALPHABET WESTERNS SCRAMBLED IN RECENT YEARS by DARRYLE PURCELL

As a long-time fan of A- and B-westerns of the 1930s into the 1960s, I believe a current motion picture big boy may hold full responsibility for the film genre’s continued demise, or at least life-support existence.

In explaining my views, I’ll throw in a little history while champing at a bit of opinion that could cause one to see me as a man of my age cursing at children to get off my lawn. And perhaps I have listened to The Statler Brothers’ brilliant Whatever Happened to Randolph Scott far too many times.

Under the studio system of the first half of the 20th Century, B-westerns were cranked out to fill theater seats at Saturday matinees. Adults supported their children’s interest in the film adventures because of the Code of the West all-American values they embraced. Even at 10-cents per ticket, low-budget westerns were profitable, enough so that the larger studios could afford to invest in A-films – many of which were not profitable.

The great talking A-westerns, beginning with starring roles for Gary Cooper, Richard Dix, Preston Foster and Warner Baxter, kept the white-hatted value system espoused in the Bs while expanding storytelling and humanizing the subjects for an adult audience. John Ford and John Wayne, among others, polished the genre to an art form that, with The Searchers, focused a Rembrandt-level spotlight on what a western could be.

At that time, television took over the role of the Saturday matinee while B-westerns filled the small screen. Cooper, Wayne and Scott, who were joined by veterans (in more ways than one) James Stewart and Audie Murphy, kept western fans coming to the movie palaces. Then the 1960s happened.

Cooper died. Scott retired. Producers found it was less expensive to film a car chase on Los Angeles streets than it was to truck horses and actors farther and farther out of town. Youths were sent to Vietnam, with their hands tied, to fight communists – eventually leading to politicians negotiating a loss for America. Cynicism began to replace the Code of the West.

As the American film industry struggled, the B-western immigrated back from Spain and Italy. The producers and directors of those low-budget films decided to put a European slant of the genre. There were no good guys, only bad guys with supernaturally fast draws killing even worse guys. The so-called Spaghetti westerns were basically caricatures of America’s films. Yet, they were profitable, for a while.

Then former TV cowboy Clint Eastwood returned to the states and began to recreate the American western, using the quick action and ultimate revenge of the European films while bringing back a bad-assed version of the good guy taking out the bad guys for the right reasons. His films got better and better – climaxing with The Unforgiven.

Then nothing rode the silver screen west – until just recently. Bone Tomahawk, The Revenant and The Hateful Eight have been touted as the long-awaited revival of western films.

I don’t believe strangely non-empathetic characters spouting 21st Century views while engaging in scenes of agonizing torture and murder are going to inspire other filmmakers to make westerns or audiences to return to the theaters. Quentin Tarantino (The Hateful Eight) ignored the art that John Ford honed while embracing the worst of the European caricatures. In my opinion, his movies, especially his westerns, are, at their best, bad imitations of not very good films.

Following the release of his picture, the not-so-humble Tarantino spouted his anger at many theatergoers’ decision to see an upbeat space opera instead of his black-hatted bloodbath. That director has always been open about his personal views, so I doubt he cares if someone like me believes his cowboy-film efforts could be the final knife thrust in the murder of the western movie genre. And I have to call the murderer, the murderer.

BEHIND THE SCENES by Tom Rizzo

I've always been a fan of behind-the-scenes at the movies . . . wondering what went on when the cameras didn't roll -- or did, for that matter. 

Movie trivia has always fascinated me. When family members or friends gather, references to movies are sure to come up whether contemporary films or the ones produced back when. 

It's always fun to be in a position of enlightening listeners with a little extra information they may not be aware occurred during the making of a particular film. For our purposes, it makes sense to focus on Westerns--a few of the most popular ones. Granted, many Western movie aficionados may already know about these factoids but, for those who don't, enjoy:

High Noon (1952)

At the time of filming, Gary Cooper, the lead, wasn't in the best of health. He was suffering from a bleeding ulcer, lower back problems, and a recurring hip problem. He was also dealing with issues caused by the breakup of his marriage and an affair turned sour. But it all worked in his favor.

The physical and emotional scars visible on his face gave Cooper the look of someone beyond his 51 years. Because of the deep and defining worry lines, Cooper needed little or no makeup during the filming.  

Cooper's professional reputation was on the decline after spending twenty-five years in show business. The Motion Picture Herald even dropped him from its list of top 10 Box Office Performers. 

But his performance in High Noon, as Sheriff Will Kane, made him the comeback kid and led to his second Academy Award for Best Actor. (He earned the first one for his role in Sergeant York). 

He wasn't producer Stanley Kramer's first choice for the lead. He first offered it to Gregory Peck as well as to Marlon Brando, Montgomery Clift, Kirk Douglas, and Charlton Heston. 

High Noon, considered a low budget black and white Western, was made for $750,000, and was nominated for seven Academy Awards, winning four of them: Best Actor in a Leading Role, Best Film Editing, Best Music, Original Song, Best Music, Scoring of a dramatic or Comedy Picture.

The film It's the first non-musical to have a theme song - "Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darlin'," marketed separately from the motion picture

One of the storefronts in the town of Hadleyville, where the story takes place, carries the name "Boyd's Hardware." Many believe the name referenced actor William Boyd, who played Hopalong Cassidy on television. 

Deputy Harvey Pell, played by Lloyd Bridges, originally was slated for Lee Van Cleef. Studio big shots, however, didn't like Cleef's facial appearance, especially his "hooked" nose which they thought made him look like one of the baddies. Cleef did make his film debut in High Noon, but as Jack Colby, one of the Miller gang, and without one word of dialogue. 

Shane (1953)

This movie was made before High Noon, but spent a number of months in editing. Producer George Stevens originally tapped Montgomery Clift for the role of Shane, and William Holden as Joe Starrett. Both actors, however, decided on other projects. At that point, Stevens was given a list of actors under contract to the studio and - within three minutes - selected Alan Ladd, Van Heflin, and Jean Arthur.

Since Alan Ladd stood only five-feet-six-inches, certain accommodations had to be made when he appeared with other actors. 

For example, in scenes with Van Heflin, he appears the same height, but Heflin was considerably taller. Sometimes, you can see Ladd walk up a ramp when he approaches the bar so he can appear the same height as the character standing next to him.

The slick gun twirling seen in the film's showdown moment was performed by Rodd Redwing, who coached many other actors--including, Henry Fonda, Clayton Moore, Glenn Ford, and Ronald Reagan. 

In an earlier scene, when Shane is demonstrating his skill for Joey, it is actually Alan Ladd on camera. Ladd had been given a different, easier-to-maneuver revolver. Even with the lighter model, it took 119 takes before Stevens was satisfied.

Director Stevens was passionate about detail, especially in physical props including clothing and building structures. He even checked out the cattle, determined they looked too well-fed, and brought in a number of scrawny cows to take their place. 

A moment of levity occurred during the funeral scene. Stevens wanted the dog to look into the grave, but constantly looked away. When the director had the dog's trainer stretch out in the bottom of the grave, the strategy worked. At that point, the coffin - containing rocks - was lowered and the harmonica player began to play "Taps." 

The crew, apparently moved by the moment, began to shovel dirt into the grave before realizing the dog's trainer was still at the bottom. 

Brandon DeWIlde, who played Little Joey Starrett, died in an auto accident in 1972. Only 30, DeWilde was killed when rushing to the hospital in Denver to visit his wife who had undergone surgery. 

At the end of the film, Shane urges Joey to stay away from a life of guns and violence, and then he rides away. The end, if anything, is ambiguous, and the question always arises whether or not Shane survives the wounds he sustained in the gunfight. 

Unforgiven (1992)

The script had kicked around Hollywood for a couple of decades before Clint Eastwood decided to produce and direct it. During those years, Gene Hackman gave it a read and turned down the part of Will Munny. Ironically, Eastwood talked him into playing the role of Little Bill Daggett, and suggested he model the role after Los Angeles Police Chief Daryl Gates.

In an interview a few years after the film, Eastwood revealed that Hackman at first balked at agreeing to participate because of his concern about how violence was going to be portrayed, noting the rise in gun violence across the country. 

Eastwood, however, a long time supporter of gun control himself, gave Hackman assurances the film wouldn't glorify gun violence.

One unknown tidbit, at least to me, was that Clint Eastwood is apparently allergic to horses.

Unforgiven was only the third Western to win Best Picture. The other two were Dances With Wolves and Cimarron. 

Although the scored was arranged by Lennie Niehaus, it was Eastwood who wrote the main theme.

Final screen credits read: "Dedicated to Sergio and Don" --references to Sergio Leone and Don Siegal, both mentors of Eastwood. 

When Eastwood phoned Richard Harris to offer him the part of English Bob, Harris happened to be watching High Plains Drifter, in which Eastwood starred.

Will Munny's children are named "Will" and "Penny," believed to be a subtle reference to the movie Will Penny, whose plot is similar to Unforgiven.

To assure authenticity on the set, Eastwood banned all modern vehicles.

Magnificent Seven (1960)

Lots of trivia and behind-the-scenes anecdotes are in circulation about this movie. Some of the more interesting ones revolve around the actors.

The film was so successful, Hollywood produced three sequels: Return of the Magnificent Seven (1966); Guns of the Magnificent Seven (1969); and The Magnificent Seven Ride! (1972). 

Steve McQueen, who at the time was starring in the TV show, Wanted: Dead or Alive, had a strict contract with Dick Powell's Four Star Productions which allowed no time off to participate in feature films. 

But McQueen, driving a rented Cadillac, got into an accident, and into a neck brace. Since he received considerable time to recover, he used it to take part in the original movie. 

Popular thinking was that McQueen staged the wreck purposely, figuring that his role in the movie would benefit him far more than his TV program.

Lead actor Yul Brynner wanted McQueen for the role of Vin Tanner, but he ultimately regretted the decision. The two didn't see eye-to-eye much. Brynner, in fact, believed McQueen was always trying to upstage him. 

The two stood about the same height: Brynner at 5-10, and McQueen at 5-9 1/2. Brynner tried to create mounds of dirt he could stand on to make himself appear taller. McQueen, however, always managed to casually kick the dirt away before Brynner could assume his position. 

Actor Eli Wallach also pointed to instances of McQueen shaking the shotgun shells to call attention to himself, and slipping his hat off to check the sun during the scene in which he and Brynner drove a hearse through town.  When the Seven cross into Mexico, McQueen would lean off his horse and dip his hat in the river. 

Wallach, who played Calvara in the film, wrote in his autobiography that McQueen often tried different ways to upstage Brynner, so much so that Brynner hired an assistant to keep detailed records of how often McQueen mimicked Brynner's onscreen gestures. 

Wallach, incidentally, admitted in a DVD Documentary about the film that he wasn't used to handling a gun and would always look down when he shoved it back into his holster. He said he didn't want to take a chance of missing the holster and looking foolish. 

Although the motion picture made scads of money and achieved a high level of popularity among filmgoers, it earned no acting nominations, but was singled out for Best Score. But the Oscar went to Ernest Gold for Exodus. 

# # # 

SATURDAY MATINEE with Troy D. Smith

I have to admit -here we are, four entries into our monthly Saturday Matinee feature, and I am really surprised no one has talked about High Noon yet. But on the other hand, that's a good thing, because it means I can.

High Noon isn't just my favorite western, it's my favorite movie, period. (That list would be rounded out by Casablanca, The Godfather, It's a Wonderful Life, and To Kill a Mockingbird. Then Apocalypse Now, and then The Searchers... and so on and so forth.)

And I wouldn't be alone. The American Film Institute has ranked it #27 on its list of greatest movies, #2 in their list of westerns, and Will Kane as #5 on their list of greatest cinema heroes. Bill Clinton has proclaimed it his favorite movie of all time, and screened it in the White House 17 times. Eisenhower and Reagan loved it, too.

The film was released in 1952: directed by George Zinneman, produced by Stanley Kubrick and Carl Foreman (who wrote the screenplay), featuring an Academy Award winning classic theme song ("Do Not Forsake Me") and winning Gary Cooper his second Oscar. Katy Jurado won a Golden Globe for her role as Helen Ramirez.

Most of you have seen it, I'm sure, multiple time. Gary Cooper is Will Kane, marshal of a small town called Hadleyville. It is his wedding day -he is marrying a Quaker girl, played by Grace Kelly, and has promised her to hang up his guns once they are married and become a storekeeper.

But then word arrives that Frank Miller is coming in on the train at high noon. Miller had been arrested by Kane and sentenced to hang, but got off on a technicality and is now returning to Hadleyville for his revenge. His gang is already at the depot, waiting for him to disembark.

Kane decides he has to remain in town and do his job -running would only delay the inevitable. Plus, the town might suffer in his place if he ran. The minutes toward the crucial showdown click by in painfully real time. Kane's anxiety, and fear, grow with each passing minute. No one is willing to stand and help him defend the town, not even his deputy. His wife abandons him for being prepared to resort to violence. His friends in town hide from him when he comes looking for assistance, or make up excuses.

He will be standing alone, and will have virtually no chance to survive.

The emotion written on Gary Cooper's face earned him that Oscar. He is desperate; he is quietly terrified; he is betrayed and abandoned and grieved. At one point a little boy catches him with his face in his hands, crying.

John Wayne was a better actor than a lot of people gave him credit for -but in my opinion he could never have pulled a role like this off. He could never have convinced the audience he was desperate and terrified. He would have gone out and faced the bad guys because he was John Wayne and that's what he did, and there would never be any doubt of the outcome.

Gary Cooper looked like a man who knew he was going to die, and didn't want to. But who bit that all back and went out to do what he knew was right, even if no one helped him, even if he knew he would almost surely die.

Of course -spoiler alert -he didn't die. He managed to wipe out the Miller gang -with some unexpected help from his Quaker wife, who came back to help him when no one else did, even taking a life. When it's over his "friends" come out of the woodwork, congratulating him, saying they knew he could do it all along. He gives them a piercing stare of righteous contempt and throws his badge into the dust, then rides away with his bride. Who, ultimately, did not forsake him after all.

I've always suspected that the town's name, Hadleyville, was deliberately chosen to evoke Mark Twain's short story "The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg", about a town full of self-righteous people who are exposed as hypocrites and frauds.

When I was a kid, I didn't have a male authority figure in my life to give me moral guidance. I sort of hobbled together, from popular culture, several different things to help me figure out what it meant to be a man. When I first saw this movie, at the age of 8, it indelibly impressed on me just what a man is, and should be. Not the tough guy who always wins -but the guy who does what he knows is right, despite the odds and despite the cost, and even when it's scary, and does not waver. Will Kane, Atticus Finch, and George Bailey became my role models -and still are.

Or, as Katy Jurado says to Lloyd Bridges: "You're a good looking boy. You have big, broad shoulders. But he is a man. It takes more than big, broad shoulders to make a man."

I was grown before I learned the fascinating story behind the story of High Noon.

Carl Foreman, the writer and co-producer, had drawn up an outline for a screenplay that would be about a small-town western marshal, and unfold in real time (long before Kiefer Sutherland and 24!) When someone pointed out that the plot was similar to the John W. Cunningham short story "The Tin Star," Foreman bought the film rights to the story (if you've read the story, you'll know it's not exactly High Noon.) Then Foreman started working on the screenplay.

During that process, he was called before the House Un-American Activities Commission to testify. It was the height of the Red Scare, after all, and Joesph McCarthy had already claimed that the State Department was riddled with Communist spies. Like many liberals, artists, and academics, Carl Foreman had been associated with the Communist Party in the 1930s. He had left the party after a short time, a decade before his testimony was called for. However, he refused to "name names" in what he considered a witch hunt, and was branded an uncooperative witness. He was eventually blacklisted, and had to move to England to get work.

Foreman later claimed that his partner Stanley Kramer tried to get him off the High Noon project because he feared the repercussions of being associated with him; Kramer said their falling out was over other, non-political matters. Foreman was forced to sell his part of the production company, but the film's director George Zinneman and Gary Cooper insisted he still be involved in the film. Cooper, interestingly enough, was politically conservative and a member of the MPA (Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals, for which John Wayne was a prominent spokesman)... he had been labeled a "friendly witness" before  HUAC, but had also refused to name names and later spoke out against blacklisting.

Several members of the cast and crew of High Noon were either blacklisted or "graylisted" (Lloyd Bridges fell into that latter category.)

Many people on both sides of the political question believed that High Noon had actually been a parable about blacklisting and the McCarthy era. In a way, the cowardly citizens of Hadleyville "blacklisted" Will Kane, and all his alleged friends were scared to come to his defense. When he persevered, he had nothing but contempt for them (many people who did cooperate freely with HUAC and name names, once the blacklisting era was over, faced much animosity from their professional community and in ensuing decades were virtually blacklisted themselves.)

John Wayne, in particular, hated the movie. In a 1971 interview, he called High Noon "the most un-American thing I've ever seen in my life," and said he had no regrets about helping blacklist Foreman. (Nonetheless, he accepted the Oscar on behalf of his friend Gary Cooper, who couldn't attend the ceremonies.) In 1959, Wayne teamed up with director Howard Hawks to make a movie in response to High Noon: Rio Bravo (incidentally, another one of my favorite westerns.) In Rio Bravo, the town rallies around their marshal.

Howard Hawks later said: "I made Rio Bravo because I didn't like High Noon. Neither did Duke. I didn't think a good town marshal was going to run around town like a chicken with his head cut off asking everyone to help. And who saves him? His Quaker wife. That isn't my idea of a good Western."

All of that information provides a fascinating look into the 1950s and the Red Scare. That's why I discuss it at length in my American History classes (my students hear about westerns whether they want to or not.) It also makes the movie an interesting view when you look for those alleged hidden messages.

But the true power of High Noon lies in the story and the performances. Will Kane is the most heroic town marshal of the movies -no matter what Howard Hawks thought.

And, by the way, I've always loved John Severin's drawings of, um, Bob Kane...