The Quiet Man

Ah, The Quiet Man. In previous reviews I've referred disparagingly to this film as an overwrought, vapid piece of blarney. After a rewatch last week, however, I'm happy to renege.

The Quiet Man (1952) is Ford's most personal project, having spent twenty years trying to adapt Maurice Walsh's Saturday Evening Post story to the screen; studios repeatedly refused to adapt it, but Ford had last laugh when it proved a huge critical and box-office hit. Yes, it reeks of sentimentality and cheesy humor, and its depiction of Ireland is as realistic as a Lucky Charms cereal box, but it's an utterly charming film, from its excellent leads to its beautiful photography.

Sean Thornton (John Wayne) is a boxer from Pittsburgh who travels to his ancestral home in Inisfree, Ireland. Thornton courts the fiery Mary Kate Danaher (Maureen O'Hara), but her thuggish brother Will (Victor McLaglen) resents Sean for purchasing a property he'd been eying. Mary loves Sean but refuses to marry him unless he can secure her dowry, and the two drift apart when Sean misinterprets this as greed. Sean becomes involved in the town's affairs - Will's attraction to the Widow Tillane (Mildred Natwick), Anglican Minister Playfair's (Arthur Shields) problems keeping a flock, a local horse race - and a terrible secret from Sean's past comes out. Ultimately, though, things aren't resolved until Sean swallows his pride and agrees to fight Will, realizing Mary Kate's true motives.

You either love or hate John Ford's various tics and foibles: the cornball humor, the bawdy fistfights, the broadly drawn Oirish caricatures. The Quiet Man has all of them in abundance, along with a nearly non-existent plot. Ford provided a stark picture of war-torn, destitute Ireland in The Informer and The Plough and the Stars, but The Quiet Man is a pure fairy tale, a paean to a non-existent Ireland where everything is green, everyone is amiably eccentric and problems are solved with a fistfight and a shot of Guinness. Even the Anglican minister is a welcome member of the community. If Ireland were such a magical, heavenly place, a cynical viewer wonders why Ford's ancestors ever left.

This seems pedantic, however, considering that The Quiet Man is such an endearing and enjoyable film. If Ford resorts to cliche and stereotype, he does so in a wholly affectionate manner, and provides an extremely likable cast of archetypes. The movie is slow-paced and languorous but never dull, and the director's love for the material rubs off on the audience. Some critics lambaste the film as sexist, proving that they need to get their head out of their asses: Mary Kate is too strong a character for that, and Ford ridicules such attitudes throughout the film.

Ford provides a richly crafted, beautiful film. Ford and photographers Winston Hoch and Archie Stout make wonderful use of County Mayo locations, everything a rich, impossibly verdant green. Ford provides a number of vivid sequences: a strikingly-edited flashback scene, Sean and Mary Kate's first confrontation, the courting session in the rainstorm. The final brawl is the only scene where Ford goes a bit overboard, but it's the only logical conclusion to events. Victor Young's beautiful score makes fine use of Irish ballads and folk songs.

John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara have their second screen pairing and possibly their best. Cast against type, Wayne gives an exceptional performance as a gentle giant eager to escape his past: the scattered hints of Sean's past are both poetic and clever ("That name has a ring to it"). O'Hara is perfect as the strong, stubborn Irish colleen, unwilling to back down or lose face, even at the cost of Sean's love. Wayne and O'Hara have indescribable chemistry, battling, bickering and falling in love, a perfect Taming of the Shrew couple that achieves perfect understanding.

The cast is full to bursting with Ford regulars, even non-Irishmen like Ward Bond and Ken Curtis, with some choice gems mixed in. Barry Fitzgerald (Bringing Up Baby) is hilarious as Sean's "chaperon," a broadly-comic yet endearing character. Victor McLaglen's drunk Irishman shtick at least fits the material better than in other Ford films, and Mildred Natwick (The Long Voyage Home) has one of her best roles. Jack McGowran (Doctor Zhivago) gets a small part as McLaglen's little toady.

The Quiet Man is a real treat. Anyone with low tolerance for goofy comedy and Irish blarney should stay away, but those less picky will find it a lovable, charming film.