Devil's Doorway

An early effort by Anthony Mann, Devil's Doorway (1950) is a surprisingly strong and resentful revisionist Western. Released the same year as Delmer Daves's Broken Arrow, it's a far more caustic look at prejudice against Native Americans. Daves humanized Natives but expressed hope at reconciliation; Mann condemns this idealism as naive.

Lance Poole (Robert Taylor) is a Shoshone Indian living in Montana Territory. He returns from the Civil War as a decorated hero, and wants nothing more than to live in peace with his white neighbors. Unfortunately, an influx of sheep herders moves into the region, egged on by racist lawyer Coolan (Louis Calhern), and begin squatting on Poole's land. Poole tries every trick in the book to protect his land, enlisting a young woman lawyer (Paula Raymond) to defend him, but the situation inevitably explodes into violence, with tragic results for everyone involved.

Devil's Doorway is an angry film, a stark contrast to the conciliatory, conventionally-liberal Broken Arrow. Mann and writer Guy Trosper place the blame for the film's tragic events squarely on white settlers. Lance bends over backwards to accomodate white laws, but in a system which views him as having "the rights of a dog," he can get nowhere. The idealism gained in fighting alongside white men to liberate blacks from slavery is quickly dashed by bitter reality. Those sticking up for Lance are deemed as "Indian lovers" (Orrie, the bar tender); his best friend, Zeke (Edgar Buchannan), is made Marshal and forced to try and evict him. The bleakness carries through to the end, though the obvious "message" at the very end sounds like a leaden clunk.

The film is remarkably left-wing for 1950, when HUAC was on the prowl and the conservative Wayne-Ford view of the West still predominated. It echoes Mann's politically-charged noir Border Incident (1949), a saga about the plight of Mexican immigrants, and The Furies (1950), where Mexican squatters are ruthlessly lynched. Perhaps his teaming with arch-conservative Jimmy Stewart tampered his politics, but Mann's anger seemed to cool over time, perhaps channelling into the oft-sadistic violence of later efforts. Here, however, it's the dominating principle.

The movie is unconventional in other ways, too. It admirably avoids cliches: the putative romance between Lance and lawyer Orrie is muted, a child character (Henry Marco) avoids easy tragedy. Except for the final scene, Mann keeps from making noble speeches or stacking the deck, allowing the ugliness of the situation to speak for itself. It's a decidedly different experience from other Westerns.

Working with ace photographer John Alton, Mann helms a striking production, with lots of beautiful location work. The use of deep-focus is extraordinary, particularly the bar scenes, where Lance is framed by Coolan and other baddies, and creative shadow and lighting shows Lance's inner conflict and predicament. The action scenes are handled with aplomb, particularly the battle with dynamite thrown at sheep farmers. The fine score is penned by Daniele Amfitheatrof, who would infamously compose the beeping doorbells of Major Dundee.

Robert Taylor is fine, if a bit stiff, as the protagonist. Louis Calhern (Notorious) gives an excellent turn as the slimey Coolan, a truly digusting villain. Paula Raymond gives a strong performance. Edgar Buchanan (Ride the High Country) stands out as the spineless Marshal.

Devil's Doorway is a remarkable film, especially for its time and place. Its angry view of Manifest Destiny has been often echoed, but rarely if ever bettered.