Forgotten Mann: Part 2

The Far Country (1954)

This Western marks the third and final collaboration between the trio of screenwriter Borden Chase, actor James Stewart, and director Anthony Mann. It is also the weakest of the three, but still a pretty solid picture. One of the notable things about it might just be Stewart's emotionally distant character, Jeff Webster; arguably the most bitter person Stewart ever played on-screen. Jeff is a genuinely unlikable man who plainly appears to care only for himself. It is quite an achievement that Mann, Stewart, and the rest of the crew managed to make this "hero" watchable.

The year is 1896. With the gold rush in full swing, Jeff and his partner, Ben Tatum (the wonderful character actor Walter Brennan), plan to take a herd of cattle north to capitalize on the high demand for beef. Unfortunately, this means they have to travel through the town of Skagway, where they accidentally interrupt a public hanging and manage to get on the wrong side of the "law". Gannon (John McIntire), the one man sheriff, judge, and jury of Skagway, confiscates their herd as punishment.

In a scheme to retrieve his cattle, Jeff decides to help Skagway's saloon owner, Ronda Castle (Ruth Roman), get to the town of Dawson safely so she can open a new one. He outwits Gannon along the way, manages to recapture his herd, and then sells them for top dollar to Ronda because the desperate locals simply can't match her price. With the wealthy Ronda set up in town, monopolizing the business of catering to the miner's vices, it doesn't take long for Dawson to become another Skagway. Jeff doesn't seem to care, until Gannon and his men commit an atrocity he can not ignore...

Beautiful Alberta, Canada stands in exceptionally well for the Yukon here, and the cinematography by William Daniels captures the natural environments effectively. As usual, Stewart does a fine job, and it is always nice to see Walter Brennan as far as I'm concerned. Their relationship and the future they hope for, symbolized by the little bell on Stewart's saddle, holds everything together. However, it is John McIntire who steals the show, or at least every scene that he's in. His Gannon, while not a very complex character, is a tyrant with a sense of humor that oozes corruption out of every pore, and he remains one of the more memorable villains in a Mann Western. The women don't fare quite as well. Ruth Roman plays a bad girl that doesn't seem bad enough, and Corrine Calvet is so cute and innocent she borders on boring.

All in all, The Far Country is a good Western. Some of Stewart's icy reactions to events and the cynical dialogue that comes out of his mouth may have viewers in shock if their exposure to him has been limited to Frank Capra films. This movie has the ringing bell alright, but no angels will be getting their wings.

The Man From Laramie (1955)

Mann's first CinemaScope Western, and his last picture to star James Stewart, tackles many of his usual themes; revenge, obsession, failed patriarchs, and so forth. Moreso than any other, however, The Man From Laramie has echoes of Shakespearean tragedy (King Lear to be exact). While it was certainly not the first time Mann had imbued his pictures with a mythical or Shakespearean tone, this one could almost be called “The Bard of the West”.

The story begins with Will Lockhart (James Stewart), a man on a mission less simple than it appears. On the surface, he looks to be a delivery man, willing to take his wagon train of goods through dangerous Indian country. In truth, he is an ex-cavalry officer, and his genuine motive is discovering the party responsible for selling repeating rifles to the Apaches, who in turn used them to kill his brother and several other soldiers.

After delivering the goods to Barbara Waggoman's (Cathy O'Donnell) store in the town of Coronado, Lockhart decides to load up the wagons with salt to sell after the journey back. This gets him involved in a bloody dispute with Barbara's crazy cousin, Dave (Alex Nicol), since the salt lagoons are on his family's land. Dave's adopted brother, Vic (Arthur Kennedy), is seemingly more level headed and tries to keep the peace. All of them, and practically everyone else within “three miles in any direction”, answers to their father, the rich and powerful Alec Waggoman (Donald Crisp). Alec offers to compensate Lockhart for any losses his son caused, but Lockhart refuses to leave town, and thus becomes inexorably tied up in the Waggoman's affairs.

Fortunately, Lockhart finds an ally in Kate Canady (Aline MacMahon), a rancher living nearby who used to be engaged to Alec. He does some work for her while digging up what he can on the Waggomans, who deal with their own interfamilial conflicts in the meantime; will the keys to the kingdom be left to the more capable man or the natural born son? Not surprisingly, Lockhart discovers there are ties between the Waggomans and the Apaches going way back, and he starts picking up the scent of the people partly responsible for his brother's demise.

Made on-location in New Mexico, the film is beautifully photographed by Charles Lang, who worked on many a classic, including four pictures by the great Billy Wilder. It is based on a 1954 Saturday Evening Post story by Thomas T. Flynn, and adapted for the screen by Frank Burt and Philip Yordan. Most importantly, it is quite a good movie, though it could do without the hokey ballad during the opening credits, and Alec's far-fetched dream foretelling the coming of Lockwood. Most of the performances are solid though, aside from Alex Nicol as Dave. He overplays a character that is already too mean, too dumb, and too whiny as written. There is just something a bit embarrassing about a forty year old man saying “I'm gonna try Pa, I'm gonna try to be like you want me from now on!” Then moments later, “I just want to be able to stand on my own feet, Vic won't let me!”

This may also be Mann's most violent Western, with the famous “hand shooting” scene, a scene where Stewart is dragged through a fire, and another where donkeys appear to be blown away at point blank range. The violence is never gratuitous though, which can not often be said for more recent pictures. The Man From Laramie is an ambitious film, indeed, and there is an awful lot to like here. Perhaps a few people would even name this as their favorite of the Mann and Stewart Westerns, but for me it isn't quite on the level of The Naked Spur, Bend of the River, or Winchester '73.

The Last Frontier (1955)


Here we have it, arguably the weakest of Anthony Mann's Westerns, unless one counts Cimarron, but aside from the impressive "Land Rush" sequence, that one rarely even feels like a Western (Mann creates miracles on-location, but far too much of Cimarron was done on phony looking sound stages). I'm not sure what Mann thought of Cimarron, but he did say, “As far as I'm concerned, The Last Frontier is nothing but a dud.” He attributed this to the fact that he was never left alone, and “there were too many people involved in the project” who kept getting in his way. He loved the theme, he simply couldn't bring it to the screen in the manner he desired. For what it's worth, there are plenty of lesser filmmakers who would surely have loved a picture like The Last Frontier to be in their credits.

Adapted from The Gilded Rooster, a Richard Emery Roberts novel, The Last Frontier takes place during the Civil War and stars Victor Mature as an uncivilized mountain man named Jed Cooper. On a typical day that finds he and his fellow trappers out in the wild doing their thing, they are surrounded by Indians and all of their goods, weapons, and horses are taken from them. According to Chief Red Cloud, this was done because they are upset about the nearby Union fort on their land. Seeking compensation for their loss, the trappers go to the fort, and suddenly find themselves employed as scouts for the army.

From there, Jed decides he wants to earn a uniform, but his uncouth ways lead to his falling in lust with Colonel Frank Marston's wife, Corrina (Anne Bancroft in her pre-Graduate days). As it happens, going after another man's wife isn't so bad as long as the husband is as nutty as the Colonel (apparently modeled after history's General George Custer). Supposedly more intelligent and civilized than Jed and his buddies, the Colonel is the ideal model of a poor leader. Having already led his men into a massacre at the Battle of Shiloh, he decides to do it all over again, charging headfirst into Indian territory. Jed must save the day, and prove there is still a place in the world of encroaching civilization for his primitive skills.

It is almost a shame that so much of the film takes place at night, as it was shot on-location in rather picturesque country. The Last Frontier is definitely easy on the eyes. I only wish I could say the same for Victor Mature as the lead. He really got on my nerves in this one with his goofy demeanor, and I much preferred his performance as Doc Holliday in John Ford's My Darling Clementine (1946). Then again, the dialogue was pretty silly at times, so the writers deserve partial blame.

Thankfully, right when things are getting a bit dull, Mann throws some excitement our way. Throughout his career, Mann always handled action sequences expertly, and the major one here is no exception (it pleasantly reminded me of the action bits in Devil's Doorway). Still, while The Last Frontier has moments that rise above the rest, it can not be recommended as a great film.

The Tin Star (1957)

Almost as little known and underrated as Devil's Doorway, The Tin Star may be a touch formulaic compared to the greatest Mann Westerns, but it remains a good film regardless. It was a production that represented many firsts in Mann's career. For instance, this was the first and only film he made with actors Henry Fonda and Anthony Perkins. It was the first and only time he worked from a screenplay by Dudley Nichols, the screenwriter responsible for many John Ford pictures including Stagecoach (1939), The Long Voyage Home (1940), and The Fugitive (1947). 1957 also marked the first year Elmer Bernstein composed music for a Mann picture, including this one and Men in War. Furthermore, The Tin Star was a return to black & white for a Mann Western, last seen seven years earlier in The Furies.

The story takes place in a small town where the sheriff has recently been killed, and his daughter's boyfriend, Ben Owens (Anthony Perkins), is the replacement. Despite being as green as they come, Owens is determined to fill the boots adequately, but his girlfriend demands he quit after seeing what happened to her father. Setting the drama in motion, a bounty hunter named Morg Hickman (Henry Fonda) arrives with an outlaw's corpse in tow, determined to fetch the reward. Getting Morg his money turns out to be a lengthy process, however, and since the local hotel is afraid to give him a room he decides to stay on the outskirts of town with a young widow (Betsy Palmer) and her son, who are also outcasts. Her boy is half Indian, so the townspeople look down upon her.


The rest is pretty straightforward, it must be said, while always remaining interesting and well made. Morg gets closer to the widow and her son during his stay, and as an ex-sheriff himself, he teaches Ben how to be worthy of wearing that titular “tin star”. There is a conflict that rears its head, obviously, and Ben must step up and prove to the town that he is strong enough to enforce the law. As is par for the course in Mann Westerns, rocky hills and terrain are used to great effect in a nicely done action sequence near the end. The most memorable scene, however, has to be the one where a murdered man arrives by horse-drawn carriage to his own birthday celebration. Scenes such as this make it difficult to imagine anyone accusing Mann of sugarcoating or shying away from disturbing and violent images.

Truth be told, while the performances are fine all around, Henry Fonda could do this role in his sleep and very well may have. Perkins as the apprehensive young sheriff seems to be warming up for his role as Norman Bates in Hitchcock's Psycho (1960). There is also a decent amount of sermonizing, and this seems to be one of Mann's talkier pictures. Nonetheless, The Tin Star is still a movie I would recommend. It is, at times, lovely to look at, and it certainly has a heart.

Man of the West (1958)

Though Gary Cooper got his start in silent era Westerns, one can not help but think of Fred Zinneman's High Noon (1952) when “Gary Cooper” and “Western” are mentioned in the same sentence. This is a bit unfortunate as it seems to come at the expense of another wonderful Cooper Western, and one of Anthony Mann's finest films; Man of the West. Expertly adapted for the screen by Reginald Rose from The Border Jumpers, a 1956 Will C. Brown novel, Man of the West deals primarily with a character who, like countless Western heroes, can not escape his past. In this instance, the hero is forced to embrace those old ways one last time before he can be purged of them forever.

The “man” of the title is Link Jones (Cooper), a former outlaw, entrusted by the people of his little town with the task of traveling to Fort Worth to find a suitable school teacher. To accomplish this goal, Link carries payment with him, a bag of gold coins gathered by the townspeople. Despite Link's past, the members of his community see him as a changed man; a married man with two children and a kind disposition. For Link though, this job still represents his right of passage from outlaw to ordinary law abiding citizen. He has the trust of the people, and he must honor that trust.

Unfortunately, the train to Fort Worth is held up as several of the passengers are helping to gather wood for the engine. During the attack, the lone guard fights back and manages to get the train moving again, but Link and two other survivors are left behind. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with Sam Beasley (Arthur O'Connell), a cowardly card sharp, and Billie Ellis (Julie London), an attractive woman who works in low-class dancehalls, Link decides their only chance is to find shelter at a nearby farmhouse he lived in as a young man.

To Link's surprise, the house is still populated by the gang he used to run with, and the failed train attack was their doing. Dock Tobin (Lee J. Cobb), Link's uncle and the leader of the gang, gives an angry, yet nostalgic speech about how he cared for the orphaned Link years ago, trained him to be his best man, and was subsequently abandoned by him. Despite this, Tobin remains foolishly optimistic that Link has returned to the gang by choice. This provides Link some room to navigate hostile but hopeful waters, as he tries to keep himself and his two companions alive. To do so, he must convince the gang of his loyalty, while resisting the seductive pull of the murderous lifestyle he used to enjoy. Making matters rough, Tobin wastes no time putting his next plan into action; he intends to cross over to Mexico, robbing a bank in a town called Lassoo along the way.

Shot in splendid CinemaScope by Ernest Haller, this is one of Mann's most visually impressive films, but also one of his most unflinchingly brutal, especially considering the time when it was made. There is London's humiliating forced striptease while Cooper has a knife at his throat, an outdoor brawl that makes the famous bar fight in Shane (1953) look like an enjoyable tussle between friends (it seemingly influenced the fight in the third season of Deadwood as well), and even a rape that occurs off-screen. The striptease has been unfairly compared, on more than one occasion, to the rape scene in Sam Peckinpah's Straw Dogs (1971). I suppose one could argue that Mann's scene may be titillating to the male demographic, but the key difference is that London's character never shows any outward signs of enjoying what she is doing. In Straw Dogs, Susan George's character resists her rapists early on, but then seems to derive pleasure from the ordeal. Frankly, the scene in Straw Dogs works thematically for that picture, but the comparison is neither accurate nor fair.

When it comes to the casting of Man of the West, it seems the detractors and fans alike have mixed feelings. Some have claimed Gary Cooper is too old for the part, others have expressed dismay about Lee J. Cobb's “overacting”. Personally, I have no issues with the casting and I think Cobb does a solid job. Cooper's age here in relation to Cobb's character (the older in real life playing the significantly younger man here), is not as unbelievable as a forty-seven year old Robert De Niro playing a twenty-eight year old the first time we see him in Scorsese's Goodfellas (1990). Both still give great performances within great films.

Then there is the finale, an exciting showdown handled as brilliantly as anything Mann ever did. I would go so far as to say it feels somewhat like the “model” other Western filmmakers followed after, including but not limited to Sergio Leone (whose The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly and Once Upon a Time in the West seem heavily influenced by Mann). This sequence really adds perspective to the comment, “When the camera pans, it breathes,” offered by the famous French film critic Andre Bazin in reference to Mann's filmmaking. It is an exemplary scene, without question.

While I would choose The Naked Spur as Mann's best film, Man of the West is probably second. I say “probably” only because I have a soft spot for Bend of the River that few people share. The bottom line is, this is a fantastic Western, and a must for all Western fans, Cooper fans, Mann fans, and/or fans of great films in general.

ADDITIONAL NOTE:

The recently released Films of Budd Boetticher DVD box set should be required viewing for Western fans. Five films are included: The Tall T (1957), Decision at Sundown (1957), Buchanan Rides Alone (1958), Ride Lonesome (1959), and Comanche Station (1960). All of them were quickie Westerns, low-budget B-pictures made on tight schedules of a few weeks, at best. Each was directed by the colorful Budd Boetticher, an American who became a bullfighter before moving into filmmaking, and the star of each was Randolph Scott, one of the great Western heroes as far as I'm concerned.

What makes these films special, particularly the ones written by Burt Kennedy (all but Decision at Sundown and Comanche Station), is the way they manage to rise so far above their humble roots. Boetticher may have had B-movie schedules, financing, and talent to work with, but he was never actually making B-movies. Everyone was at the top of their game in these pictures, and over the years it has become clear they surpass many a larger budgeted Western epic.

The best of the bunch, in my view, are The Tall T and Ride Lonesome, with the former being particularly surprising in the raw brutality of its villains, somewhat like Man of the West. The set has a nice documentary included about Boetticher, film introductions by the likes of Martin Scorsese and Taylor Hackford, and three separate commentaries. It is fascinating to see what a talented filmmaker can do on budgets nowhere near what Anthony Mann, John Ford, or Howard Hawks had for their pictures. The Tall T and Ride Lonesome are right up there with some of the best Westerns ever made, and those who enjoy them should also pick up Seven Men From Now (1956), another Boetticher/Scott Western available as an individual DVD release.