Red River

Today is John Wayne's 102nd birthday, and in seeing such I realize that I, an alleged John Wayne fan, have yet to review a single one of his films for this blog! Last Friday I gave a long-overdue rewatch of Howard Hawks' Red River (1948), but didn't get around writing a review of it. So, here is my humble birthday offering to the Duke.

Tom Dunson (John Wayne) is a tough cowpoke who decides, along with crabby old partner Groot (Walter Brennan), to leave his Western-bound wagon train and settle in Texas - a fortunate decision, as a band of Comanches soon wipes out the wagon train. With only a bull and a cow - and Matt Garth (Montgomery Clift), a young boy who is the party's sole survivor - Dunson sets up his own claim along the banks of the Red River. Fifteen years later, Dunson is one of the most powerful ranchers in Texas, but he needs to drive his herd east to Missouri to pay off debts and keep his business afloat. Along the arduous trek, sparks fly between Tom and Matt, as the former becomes increasingly cruel and tyrannical. Eventually, Matt leads a mutiny against Dunson, and drives the herd to Abilene, Kansas rather than Missouri. Along the way, the party rescue a group of pioneers - including tough girl Tess Millay (Joanne Dru) - from marauding Indians, but even as they approach their destination, Matt knows that Dunson is on his trail, sworn to avenge his treachery.

Red River is widely considered one of the landmark Westerns of all time, and one of John Wayne's very best performances. It delivers in both categories, for the most part, but the movie is far from a masterpiece. The film's flaws have been well-expanded on by this point in time, but they certainly hamper what could otherwise be one of the all-time great Westerns.

The movie is certainly solid for most of its length. One thing Hawks undoubtedly excells at is male bonding; the scenes of Dunson's cowboys bickering and bonding on the trail, which might prove banal in the hands of another director, are highly entertaining and well-written sequences. Certainly, the relationship of Tom and Matt is perfectly set up, with their makeshift father-son bond stretched to the breaking point as Tom proves to be a petty tyrant. And the scenes of the drive itself are breath-taking and exciting, interspersed by strong bits of character conflict and interaction which help drive the story along. Much of the film would later be appropriated by Sam Peckinpah's Major Dundee: the male comarderie, the tension between the two protagonists, and Dunson's obsession with killing deserters (the two pertinent scenes borrowed almost verbatim by Peckinpah). The first hour and twenty minutes of Red River, then, are Hawks at his best, and there's certainly the set-up for a truly great film.

But things go south in the last forty minutes. Without much logical progression other than getting Dunson out of the picture, Matt and Co. come across a group of Western-bound settlers under Indian attack, including Tess, who provides a ridiculous, tacked-on love interest. Joanne Dru is a fine and quite attractive actress, but here she is saddled with a ridiculously out of place character, who seems more like Hildy Johnson thrown into a Western setting than a tough pioneer woman (the scene where she keeps chattering even after being shot with an arrow is ridiculous). She just seems out of place, with no point in the story - a problem Hawks would repeat in other Westerns (most notably Angie Dickinson in Rio Bravo). Nor does she have any chemistry with Matt, which makes it all the worse (yes, Montgomery Clift was gay, but he had chemistry with many an actress).

The film really falters on its ludicrous conclusion, which I have no problems with spoiling since the film is 61 years old. Dunson completely disappears from the story for the better part of half an hour, allowing Matt and Tess to wallow in romantic contrivance while we wait impatiently for the final showdown. Tom finally appears with a large gang of hired guns, Matt's men prepare to confront him - and what do we get? A brief bout of fisticuffs, interrupted by a whiny, gun-toting Tess who shrieks at them to get along. Is this some sort of joke? If it is, it isn't funny, but on the other hand it's impossible to take it seriously. For this, Red River belongs in the same league as Rosemary's Baby for an otherwise brilliant film ruined by an atrociously ill-conceived climax.

For all this, at least Hawks excells directorially. Hawks and cinematographer Arthur Rosson provide beautiful location work; the shots of the huge herd of real cattle on the move is really refreshing in an age of CGI, and the rest of the movie, aside from a few set-bound sequences, is no less impressive. The stampede scene (copied almost verbatim in the recent Australia) in particular is exciting and expertly staged, the set and location work matching seemlessly. Dimitri Tiomkin provides a nice if somewhat bombastic score to the proceedings.

John Wayne gives very near a career-best performance as Dunson. The Duke was always more of a physical presence in his films than a great actor, but in the right role he showed that he wasn't just a wooden tough guy. Along with Ethan Edwards in The Searchers and Rooster Cogburn in True Grit, Wayne's performance as Tom Dunson is a truly impressive and admirably atypical performance; he plays a vicious, tyrannical martinet with surprising ease, and gives off a strong performance, commanding the screen throughout (and even when he's not in the film). If there's one reason to see the film through to the end, it's the Duke.

The rest of the cast is hit-or-miss. Montgomery Clift is fine, if a bit mannered; he's not quite convincing as a tough cowpoke but he has chemistry with Wayne and makes Matt an interesting character. Walter Brennan rehearses the cranky old coot role he would perfect in Rio Bravo. John Ireland is underused as Cherry Valance, Matt's presumptive rival, and Joanne Dru, as mentioned above, is largely annoying. Smaller roles are ably handled by Western veterans Harry Carey Sr. AND Jr., Paul Fix, Noah Beery, Chief Yowlatchie and Hank Worden.

Red River is very entertaining for two-thirds of its length; it could easily have been a masterpiece. The last thirty minutes, but especially the conclusion, is absolutely ridiculous, which is a real pity.