Hud (1963).

Review #1411: Hud.

Cast: 
Paul Newman (Hud Bannon), Melvyn Douglas (Homer Bannon), Brandon deWilde (Lonnie Bannon), Patricia Neal (Alma Brown), Whit Bissell (Mr. Burris), Crahan Denton (Jesse), John Ashley (Hermy), Val Avery (Jose), George Petrie (Joe Scanlon), and Curt Conway (Truman Peters) Directed by Martin Ritt.

Review: 
"I make the kind of films that not too many people get to make in this town, though sometimes I've had to take the risk myself"

One cannot simply make a good film without some sort of sensitivity and knowledge of how to maintain a production and the aspects that go with it from cast to tone. Martin Ritt was a director known for his socially conscious films, concerned with the human condition while making sure to film with a careful hand and careful approach to his stars, which served him well over the years. Born in 1914, he grew up in New York City but attended college in North Carolina, with the latter experience shaping his vision in wanting to show the struggle of inequality. He moved to the theater not long after graduation, shifting from theatre groups (as actor and director at times) to the Federal Theater Project to the Group Theatre where he met Elia Kazan (in later years Ritt would do work at the Actors Studio when Kazan could not make a class). After serving in World War II under the US Army Air Forces, he had shifted some of his focus to television, but the prevailing fear over red influence into entertainment trapped him on the blacklist for a few years. A few years later, he directed his first feature film with Edge of the City (1957), which depicted a interracial friendship. In the course of over three decades, he would make several notable films, such as The Long, Hot Summer (1958, which also starred Newman), Sounder (1972), and Norma Rae (1979).

The film was adapted by Harriet Frank Jr and Irving Ravetch (who co-produced the film with Ritt) from the 1961 novel Horseman, Pass By from Larry McMurtry, the first of six of his works to have been adapted into film (with others being notable films like The Last Picture Show and Terms of Endearment). The key change made in adapting the novel was in expanding the character of Hud to be the main focus, as opposed to Lonnie. The film was shot over the course of four weeks, with most of it being done in the Texas Panhandle, with some time being spent beforehand to rehearse with the cast to have them delve into their roles before shooting. This is a feature with a tremendously well-rounded quartet (with Douglas and Neal winning Academy Awards for their performances), headlined by Newman. The method actor had risen from theatre work to feature film roles in the 1950s, and he had spent a couple of days in a Texas ranch working and sleeping in a bunkhouse to prepare for the role. He pulls off a magnificent performance here, a charming monster who lives for himself and the tastes that go with said figure that swaggers over the conventional lead focus for the time, sinking with ease into such a rough role. To the surprise of Newman and Ritt, audiences found a liking to this amoral character, who they thought would not be accepted as a heroic character, with Ritt believing it being a reflection of the counterculture that would engulf the latter part of the decade. Perhaps it is evident in a quote from the film that talks about how a country changes its look by who we admire, and one must make up their mind over what is right and wrong. In that sense, theatre-turned-film star Douglas matches up with principles and a weary but unbroken spirit that reflects his ranch with measured composure. When it comes to deWilde, he holds his own as a yearning youth at a crossroads that all growing youth find themselves, and he does it with plenty of conviction. Neal, a member of the Actors Studio that appears for just twenty minutes, makes the best of her time with a relentlessly compelling performance, filled with worn-out cynicism and wit. The other key highlight is James Wong Howe (a pioneer of cinematography for six decades) and his stark cinematography, which captures the depth of such a landscape like the Panhandle with tremendous contrast and shadows that make for a devastating effect for a reasonably paced 112 minutes. This is a film that sets its own trail of where one can go in their life without needing to draw it out for the audience, with four capable performances and direction to drive a film that drives hard to questions that aren't easy to get to but prove fairly worth it in the long run. It reaches most of the marks it wants to make while serving as its own kind of Western melodrama worthy of a watch for its vision of the countryside.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Shane.

Review #1382: Shane.

Cast: 
Alan Ladd (Shane), Jean Arthur (Marian Starrett), Van Heflin (Joe Starrett), Brandon deWilde (Joey Starrett), Jack Palance (Jack Wilson), Ben Johnson (Chris Calloway), Edgar Buchanan (Fred Lewis), Emile Meyer (Rufus Ryker), Elisha Cook Jr (Frank "Stonewall" Torrey), Douglas Spencer (Axel 'Swede' Shipstead), John Dierkes (Morgan Ryker), Ellen Corby (Mrs. Liz Torrey), and Paul McVey (Sam Grafton) Produced and Directed by George Stevens (#911 - Woman of the Year)

Review: 
“I’ve always been of the opinion that a director should never touch a film without his having a basic knowledge of its contents.”

There have been a countless amount of Westerns to choose from when it comes to picking a film to watch and plenty that came from the 1950s. It should only prove natural that a classic as timeless as this one is came from George Stevens. Born in a family of actors and film crewmen, Stevens honed his craft first as a cameraman with the Laurel and Hardy film series before soon cutting his teeth as a director for shorts and eventually his first feature with the comedy The Cohens and Kellys in Trouble (1933). In the prevailing next few years, he would go on to do comedies and romantic dramas before he left to serve in World War II, which had a diverse selection of stars ranging from Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy (where he directed the first film to feature the two together in Woman of the Year) to Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers with Swing Time (1936) to Cary Grant with Gunga Din (1939). He served with the U.S. Army Signal Corps as a head of the film unit, which filmed numerous events of the war such as the D-Day landings and shots of concentrations camps such as Dachau. When he returned to direct feature films in 1948, his films darkened in optimism, but he reached success with his ambitious efforts. He won two Academy Awards for Best Director for A Place in the Sun (1951) and Giant (1956), a feat matched by just twenty other directors before he closed his career with The Only Game in Town (1970). Stevens commanded respect from his fellow directors and stars, a man capable of keeping control of the film to himself and not at the whims of producers or big names, believing that films should be respected as more than just a tool to be used to sell products when they were aired on television.

It should only prove fitting that the film has a tremendous tense presence to headline a classic like this. Ladd (a man who tried his hand at extras and bit parts before getting his big break at the age of 29) is precisely the man for the moments required of him in this film, a weary presence that we see ourselves drawn to even before conflict has built itself to a boil. He doesn't have the biggest of backstories or the tallest of heights, but there is plenty to see within his eyes when interacting with the others, such as with deWilde or with Arthur, a graceful presence in her last performance before film retirement. Heflin keeps up with resilience fitting of a community man, while deWilde (who had his Broadway debut at the age of 7) makes a compelling coming of age presence that is crystalized with the final iconic scene with Ladd. The rest of the cast contribute in their own ways, such as a conniving Meyer. Palance utilizes his moments on screen with menacing precision through the way he says his lines, with the highlight being the sequence outside the saloon that builds tension right up until the gunshots are fired (done by shooting into a garbage can), complete with wires to jerk back the actor after being shot, a startlingly effective choice. The film was adapted from the Jack Schaefer's 1949 novel of the same name by Pultizer Prize novelist A.B. Guthrie Jr and columnist Jack Sher. It's interesting that the film turned out so well with the strange difficulties it faced at times with its stars. For example, Ladd, who disliked guns, took 116 takes when it came time to film the shooting demonstration sequence. Palance did not have much experience with guns or horses, and he had trouble in mounting (and demounting) his horse; the one take of him successfully mounting his horse would be used numerous times (along with being reversed for dismounts) during the film. This is a film that went from original plans of 58 shooting days to 75 (done in 1951) with extensive editing done by Stevens that led to delays. And yet here we are, talking about a classic for its decade because of how well-crafted it is, meticulous in its look in sets alongside award-winning cinematography from Loyal Griggs that go with a game cast and startling direction that certainly proved inspiring for future films (such as Pale Rider) while ultimately being a thought-provoking Western of a time that never ages and never dies.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.