The Duke's been dead for almost 45 years, but I'd argue he's still
probably the most recognisable face and name in Westerns. John Ford's
been dead almost a decade longer, and even though I've seen very few of
his movies, I know he's responsible for establishing and shaping the
Western genre. And their contribution to the Western is pretty well
summed up in Rio Grande.
As Lt. Col. Kirby Yorke, Wayne commands a cavalry unit near the Rio
Grande River, the border between America and Mexico. When some new
recruits arrive, one is revealed to be his son, Jeff (Claude Jarman
Jr.). Jeff recently flunked out of officer's school and has enlisted as a
bottom level trooper. Father and son haven't seen each other in 15
years and things starts out a little frosty.
Constantly fighting
the Apache, Kirby and his men are in a precarious position when the
enemy keeps retreating across the Mexican border after their guerrilla
assaults, making them off limits in between sneak attacks. Add to this
Kirby's estranged wife (Maureen O'Hara) who shows up trying to save
their son, and he's copping it from all directions.
In the Coen
Brothers awesome movie Barton Fink, studio head Jack Lipknick (Michael
Lerner) is talking to his newly signed screenwriter, Barton Fink (John
Turtorro), who he wants to write a wrestling picture. While espousing
the creative freedom he'll give Fink and the originality he wants in
return, he without irony gives Fink the rundown on what's expected from
the screenplay...
"Wallace Beery is a wrestler. I wanna know his
hopes, his dreams. Naturally, he'll have to get mixed up with a bad
element. And a romantic interest. You know the drill. Romantic interest,
or else a young kid. An orphan".
Watching Rio Grande and
thinking back on the only other Ford / Wayne joint I've seen, Fort
Apache, I feel like they may have had similar notes from the studio...
"The
Duke plays a cavalryman. I wanna know his hopes, his dreams. Naturally,
he'll have to fight the heathen red man ('coz this is the 50s, so it's
not yet racially insensitive for us to say things like that). And a
romantic interest. Probably an estranged wife or long lost love. You
know the drill. And don't forget, his second in charge needs to be a
drunk Irishman. Nothing makes more effective comic relief than a tippled
mick (did I mention it's the 50s ?)".
But all the box ticking
and by the numbers plotting of Rio Grande never really bothered me.
There's a let's-put-on-a-show vibe about movies from that era that is
infectiously charming. It's like studios and film makers felt obliged to
give their audience a cabaret show amidst their gritty Western. Saddle
worn, hard as nails cavalrymen? Better make sure they get to sing a few
songs. What about horse stunts that have nothing to do with reality? No
worries, we'll shoehorn in a reason for a few dudes to ride two horses
at once, while standing up!
It's clichéd, it's hammy, it's
predictable and it's on the nose. But I'll be buggered if I wasn't
entertained but Rio Grande. Westerns might have become grittier since,
but 60 or 70 years ago, no acting and directing pair did it better than
John Wayne and John Ford
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