High Noon.

Review #2083: High Noon.

Cast: 

Gary Cooper (Marshal Will Kane), Thomas Mitchell (Mayor Jonas Henderson), Lloyd Bridges (Deputy Marshal Harvey Pell), Katy Jurado (Helen Ramírez), Grace Kelly (Amy Fowler Kane), Otto Kruger (Judge Percy Mettrick), Lon Chaney Jr (Martin Howe), Harry Morgan (Sam Fuller), Ian MacDonald (Frank Miller), Eve McVeagh (Mildred Fuller), Morgan Farley (Dr. Mahin), Harry Shannon (Cooper), Lee Van Cleef (Jack Colby), Robert J. Wilke (Jim Pierce), and Sheb Wooley (Ben Miller) Directed by Fred Zinnemann (#1377 - The Men)

Review: 

"Sheriffs are people and no two people are alike. The story of High Noon takes place in the Old West but it is really a story about a man's conflict of conscience. In this sense it is a cousin to A Man for All Seasons. In any event, respect for the Western hero has not been diminished by High Noon."

It is never a bad time for a Western, particularly ones with interesting stories beyond the camera. The film is based on the short story "The Tin Star", as seen in 1947 in Collier's magazine that was done by John W. Cunningham. Carl Foreman (the credited screenwriter of the film) claimed later that he had written an outline that apparently seemed similar to Cunningham's story, which led to him buying the rights to the story. However, Richard Fleischer claimed in his autobiography (written decades after the fact) that he had helped Foreman develop the story while they had been working together in The Clay Pigeon (1949). Anyway, let's talk about Foreman for a bit. He had studied at the University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign as a teenager, dropped out to seek out Hollywood, went back to Illinois to study at the John J. Marshall School of Law, and then dropped out of there to work a variety of jobs (writer, reporter, and even carnival barker) before eventually returning back to Hollywood by the late 1930s; during that time, he became a member of the Communist Party, which he left by the dawn of World War II, which saw him serve with the U.S. Army Signal Corps. Foreman had done his first writing in film with the 1941 film Bowery Blitzkrieg in an uncredited manner, but he got onto a more regular pattern of work with story/writing credits for Dakota (1945) and So This Is New York (1948) - the latter was the first Foreman made in association with Stanley Kramer (who he met when they both were serving in World War II). There would be a handful of films that Foreman made as a writer for Kramer's company, which included The Men (1950), as directed by Fred Zinnemann. At any rate, Foreman's career took a beating due to the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAAC), who labeled him as an unfriendly witness after he admitted to being a party member but did not want to name names. He later called the film a parable against blacklisting, one that seems apt when considering that Kramer essentially shortchanged him when it came to having him sell his share in the company and even tried to get him booted off the production prior to the meeting with the HUAAC (because he feared he would be implicated by Foreman, assocation or not). Living mostly in London for the rest of his days, Foreman was given the cold shoulder from Hollywood for the rest of the 1950s that saw him either work on the side away from Hollywood or with modified credit that ranged from The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957); he also did a hand of producing in addition to writing for films such as Mackenna's Gold (1969); Foreman died in 1984 at the age of 69.

Fans of the Western know that Howard Hawks made Rio Bravo (1959) as a response to what he thought about this film that he felt didn't make much of a good Western, which naturally starred John Wayne (incidentally, he called High Noon "un-American", which is probably the silliest thing ever said by Wayne in the 1950s). Of course, Zinnemann years later responded by saying he wished Hawks would leave his films alone, so there's that. It seems only apt to have Cooper here, since the film that made him a key presence for bigger things in film was The Virginian (1929), which incidentally was a film that dealt with a man recently finding love in the West having to deal with the ramifications of an old foe coming into town for revenge in a shootout. The amusing point in all of this is that the two films are basically the same in quality anyways, ones that serve as being pretty good for what they are with distinct human qualities that make for a useful Western. The anguish and fear shown in its lead character (with credit going to Zinnemann and cinematographer Floyd Crosby) make a resounding effort to make a panicky piece of entertainment that makes a suitable morality tale that also is a sharp real-time thriller of conscience. In the end, a town may be a town, but it is nothing if there are no good people willing to stand side by side with folks in need of help, whether that involves men bound to their duty and honor or not. It is the kind of film that enforces the idea that beyond the one person bound to serve and protect folks sees them exposed for who they are (cowardice, resentment, jealousy, or bad timing) when the cards are down, which isn't always the easiest thing to confront when seeing human nature that leads to a man needing to make a decision (in Zinnemann's words) "according to his conscience." Cooper makes the ideal lead to make this grand quandary worth watching, which works pretty well when presented with a collection of various recognizable presences that make the lineup of human frailty (well, aside from the Quaker and an assertive presence of who stands by their man most) that even overshadow the outlaws (a quartet led by MacDonald), which somehow seems right. Kelly makes a decent pacifist in the middle, but really the most suitable presence to counter Cooper in pursuit is Bridges or Jurado, who each show the side of just what past loyalties mean when it comes to pride. The climax proves worthwhile in showing the chase of just how much pride and devotion mean when staring at a frontier where guns are in the picture rather than the idea of safety. As such, High Noon is a worthwhile effort in showing the nature of man and pride in a story that is distinct from the general Western tales and myths that arise from gunslingers and towns of man and dirt. Analyze all you want about just where the best Western lies, but this one is a pretty good one to go along with no matter where you encounter it in your travels.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

One-Eyed Jacks.

Review #1405: One-Eyed Jacks.

Cast: 
Marlon Brando ("Kid" Rio), Karl Malden (Dad Longworth), Ben Johnson (Bob Emory), Katy Jurado (Maria Longworth), Pina Pellicer (Louisa), Slim Pickens (Lon Dedrick), Larry Duran (Chico Modesto), Sam Gilman (Harvey Johnson), Timothy Carey (Howard Tetley), Míriam Colón (Eedhead), and Elisha Cook, Jr. (Carvey) Directed by Marlon Brando.

Review: 
"You work yourself to death. You're the first one up in the morning... I mean, we shot that thing on the run, you know, you make up the dialogue the scene before, improvising, and your brain is going crazy"

Being an outsider can prove interesting when it comes to cinema, whether you are an actor or director. Marlon Brando certainly proved himself in cultivating a career in the former category with characters on the outside with a great deal of naturalization in acting that made him a presence to behold on screen for several decades, from the highest of highs to lowest of lows, and the 1960s were certainly an interesting one for him in his life and career. He appeared in thirteen films in this decade, which is considerable since it was the most he did in one decade in a 39 film career that spanned over five decades. He grew a reputation as demanding and troublesome on set in this decade with films that audiences felt where inconsistent in quality, ranging from Mutiny on the Bounty (1962, where he had conflicts with director Lewis Milestone), A Countess from Hong Kong (1967, where initial joy to work with Charlie Chaplin turned to disappointment over his directorial style) to Burn! (1969, which he felt was some of his best acting). In any case, this film proved to be a unique experience for Brando, who would direct for the first and only time in his career. He stepped into this because of massive turnover when it came to writing and directing for a film under his production company Pennebaker Productions. For example, the first draft of the script (an adaptation of the 1956 novel The Authentic Death of Hendry Jones by Charles Neider) was done by Rod Serling. Then the plan shifted to having re-writes by Sam Peckinpah with direction from Stanley Kubrick. Calder Willingham and Guy Trosper both contributed to further re-writes, and they ultimately became the writers credited on-screen in the final product. A disagreement between Kubrick and Brando resulted in the former leaving the production weeks before it was slated to began, and the latter volunteered to serve as director.

Perhaps it should prove unsurprising that the film ran for 141 minutes, since Brando had apparently did a first cut that ran for over four hours, since he shot hours and hours of footage that amplified a budget from under two million to six, and it did not return well at the box offices. It certainly is an interesting Western, one that sets a trail of clichés about revenge with attempts to make complex characters with intensity and realism that make a curious movie in Brando's filmography. In a role that seems to pull from historical figures like Billy the Kid, Brando pulls off a tremendous performance, a contradiction of reserved intensity that certainly threads a different needle than the usual "main hero" present in Westerns (fitting in a decade with plenty to offer in that department) that seems fitting of psychoanalysis more than adulation. Malden, noted in his career for his versatility as a character actor with everyman qualities of intensity and authenticity, accompanies him as a father figure with his own complexity as adversary and authority figure filled with half-truths. Johnson and Pickens accompany the film at times with composed grime, while Jurado (who carved an image for herself in both Mexican and American cinema) makes for a calming presence and Pellicer (who appeared in five films before committing suicide at the age of 30) makes for quiet chemistry with Brando. This is a film that soaks with paradoxes of moralities and myths, packing a swift climax that makes a fitting end for such nihilism, even if Brando felt a bit disappointment in how the characters seemed to be "black and white, not gray and human as I planned them." It meanders at times, but at least the cinematography by Charles Lang is nice to look at to make things palpable. On the whole, this is a film with plenty of intensity and ego on display in it its star and director, a fitting curiosity that any actor/director would surely be proud to have done, warts and all.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid.

Review #944: Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid.

Cast:
James Coburn (Sheriff Pat Garrett), Kris Kristofferson (Billy the Kid), Bob Dylan (Alias), Richard Jaeckel (Sheriff Kip McKinney), Katy Jurado (Mrs. Baker), Chill Wills (Lemuel), Barry Sullivan (Chisum), Jason Robards (Governor Lew Wallace), R.G. Armstrong (Deputy Sheriff Bob Ollinger), Luke Askew (Eno), John Beck (John W. Poe), Richard Bright (Holly), Matt Clark (Deputy Sheriff J. W. Bell), Rita Coolidge (Maria), Jack Dodson (Lewellen Howland), Jack Elam (Alamosa Bill Kermit), Emilio Fernández (Paco), Aurora Clavel (Ida Garrett), Paul Fix (Pete Maxwell), L.Q. Jones (Black Harris), and Slim Pickens (Sheriff Colin Baker) Directed by Sam Peckinpah (#590 - Ride the High Country and #591 - The Wild Bunch)

Review:
It is easy to say that this is a movie that does not skew for morality within its main characters, who seem to have interesting chemistry with each other. Not only is it a Western, it also serves as a sort of tragedy, where former friends are now pitted against each other. This is a bittersweet movie, filled with grit and action that make for a movie that can be rewarding if one has the patience for it. Everywhere you look in this film has a raw connection in someway to violence, where even lawmen are not so different from the outlaw that they hunt down; this is a bitter film, but it is also a film that accomplishes in expressing the nature of what the Old West looked and felt. Watching this movie feels like a eulogy for the times and myths that have gone by, and while the movie may drag itself under its own weight at points, it definitely hits more than it misses.

Coburn and Kristofferson are a fine tandem when on screen together, with the former having a reliable cool nature and the latter having a good amount of charm to him; right from the first scene they just seem to have an easy connection, where it doesn't look like we need a dump of exposition in order to set the stage. Dylan (who also contributed to the music) plays a strange cipher of a character (being more of an observer than a participant in the bloodshed going on), but he definitely is noteworthy to watch, even when he is reading food cans on the shelf. The music in the movie is pretty effective with the tone of the movie, with "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" being a key highlight. The rest of the cast (some who make only brief appearances) are pretty effective, managing to serve the film well when needed. The opening of the film (in the special edition and Peckinpah's cut, but more on this later) where Garrett's death and the shooting of chickens by Billy and his gang intersplice with each other is quite interesting, having a strange violent beauty to it. This was filmed in the Mexican state of Durango (in part due to conflicts with MGM), and the sets contribute into making this a visual achievement; it's not so much that the Old West is glorified, but it definitely becomes a character in a movie that isn't above myths and showing the clash of the times, where freedom and safety (within profit) interact violently. There is a spirit to this movie that is unyielding in its passion, and it definitely works even after over forty years.

This was a movie that went through production turmoil, which resulted in Peckinpah's version not being seen for years due to conflicts with MGM (and more importantly James Aubrey, President of the company at the time) over budgeting and scheduling. After the film finished 21 days behind schedule and more than a million dollars over budget, Aubrey had the film cut from a preview version of 124 minutes to 106 minutes with numerous scenes cut (including the beginning scene) and six editors being credited (this edition was disowned by cast and crew). In 1988 (four years after Peckinpah's death), a preview version of the film was released by Turner Home Entertainment, which lasts 122 minutes. In 2005, Warner Bros released a special edition version, which incorporates elements of the two movies along with additional scenes, which lasts 115 minutes. In any case, the movie has gained a new status among respective audiences, in large part due to the versions that have come out in the past few years.

On the whole, what more is there to say? Watch the film in the right state of mind, and you may very well have a good time with a film that has only become a mistreated classic in the years following its original release. Is it for everyone? No, but it definitely has its own kind of appeal that outweigh nearly everything else.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.