Stagecoach

Something bad is happening to John Wayne and, by extension, to the history and culture of which he is a part. A 1971 Playboy interview was unearthed recently in which the Duke voiced some predictable opinions about politics, the war in Vietnam, and the state of American culture. Wayne was in his 60s and he had a dim view of the youth culture ("hippies"), the anti-war protests, and the film Midnight Cowboy. He also expressed views that were racist and homophobic, which has led some younger readers - bless them - to immediately strike Wayne's name from their list of American heroes. 

In his Guardian piece on the subject, Caspar Salmon quotes the late Roger Ebert: "the film’s attitudes toward Native Americans are unenlightened. The Apaches are seen simply as murderous savages; there is no suggestion the white men have invaded their land ... Ford was not a racist, nor was Wayne, but they made films that were sadly unenlightened.”(1) 

First of all, Roger Ebert has no business apologizing for the alleged sins of John Wayne and John Ford. That is not in his job description. I don't share the views that John Wayne has been called out for, 48 years later (I'm sure there were plenty of people who disagreed with him then), but John Wayne was speaking for himself - not a representative of a country or a party or a group. And he was perfectly free to say whatever he wanted on any subject under the sun. The asininity of this kind of crying over spilt milk makes me wonder how many American "heroes" would stand up to such standards if they were examined in the harsh light of today? What made All in the Family such a funny and important television show in 1971 (the same year of Wayne's Playboy interview) was that it gave Archie Bunker a stage on which to clearly and unapologetically express his reprehensible views. But producer Norman Lear and Carroll O'Connor himself knew that, while most of their audience was laughing at Archie Bunker, some of them were laughing with him. Somehow it was more acceptable - and palatable - in 1971. So why isn't it today, considering how much more informed and "enlightened" we think we are?

Anyone with rudimentary experience, the slightest contact, with history must realize after awhile that the people who lived in the past demand the simple application of some context when we try to understand them, the things that they said and the choices they made. In many cases, it's the only way we can make sense of the past. The incomprehension of the young at what was acceptable in the past, at so many things that cause (sometimes justifiable) outrage today, is an injustice to the past. In many cases, we fall short of their standards of intelligence and civility, so how can we expect them to conform with our standards?

Now that I've got that out of the way, let us consider John Ford's classic film Stagecoach. The 1930s was an important decade for Ford. He had applied his filmmaking skills to a broad spectrum of subjects and earned considerable critical acclaim, so that by the time he returned to a genre that he helped establish as a staple of American film in the 1920s, a genre that was, until the 1960s, exclusively American, he was ripe for a masterpiece.

In the opening credits, the musical direction is attributed to Boris Morros: "Musical Score based on American folk songs adapted by ..." and it lists five names. Against a bright sky, we see a stagecoach cross the frame, followed by a troop of uniformed riders. The music is familiar, including (somewhat incongruously) "I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair". But then we see another group of riders, indians with long hair and bandanas - and rifles, and the music switches to dums and ominous minor chords - the same music used in countless Westerns whenever "hostiles" are shown. When the action begins, two riders are approaching a military outpost (in Monument Valley, which was protected as a national park, but Ford was permitted to film there as long as they left no permanent traces). Inside the command post, the news arrives that the hills are full of Apaches and are under the leadership of "Geronimo".

When the stagecoach arrives in town, we are introduced to the principal actors in the drama: Buck, the stagecoach driver (Andy Devine); Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt) on her way to join her husband; the notorious gambler Hatfield (John Carradine); Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell), who quotes (garbled) Marlowe as he is being evicted and can't control his drinking; Dallas (Claire Trevor, who got top billing in the credits), who gets kicked out of town by the Law & Order League for reasons that are left to our imaginations; the marshall (George Bancroft); and Gatewood, the bank manager (Berton Churchill) who embezzles the miners' payroll for himself. We hear of the Ringo Kid early on, wanted for busting out of jail, but he (John Wayne) doesn't appear until well into the journey to Lordsburg (18 1/2 minutes into the film, and one of the greatest entrances ever). The coach is full, but since the hills are full of Apaches, the Ringo Kid is a welcome addition. He sits on the floor of the coach.

Lucy gives birth enroute, having concealed her delicate condition from everyone, especially the Hays Office, Dallas turns out (like we didn't expect it!) to have a heart of gold, Ringo proposes to her, the embezzling bank manager is nabbed in Lordsburg, and Hatfield, for all his notoriousness, turns into a nobleman - even though he was on the verge (before taking an Apache bullet) of executing Lucy rather than see her defiled by the "savages."

Andy Devine isn't yodeling nearly as much as he did as he grew older. John Carradine finally got a plummy role he could sink his teeth into (he reminded me of Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday in Tombstone). And John Wayne, who wasn't yet a star, was never more beautiful than he was in Stagecoach. Ford made him a star, just as Kurosawa did for Mifune. The chase scene, shot on the Bonneville salt flats (I once drove across it myself) lasts almost a full six minutes and is still exciting - Yakima Canutt's stunts are still unsurpassed. David Lean must've been thinking of it when he conceived the crossing of the Nefud Desert in Lawrence of Arabia. And when the scene with Bogart and Claude Rains at the end of Casablanca was done, how can anyone not have remembered the end of Stagecoach? Ringo and Dallas ride away in the wagon, leaving Curley and Doc Boone in the street.

Curley: Doc, I'll buy you a drink.
Doc Boone: Just one!

And Gatewood's bilious speech about the government, "America for Americans!" "the government must not interfere with business!" "reduce taxes!" and "what this country needs is a businessman for president!" - lines that are so presciently full of shit, coming from such a crook and coward, how could anyone not hear him and laugh out loud about our present president?

Ford made some Westerns that were more conventional (Fort Apache, probably his most boring) and others that were less conventional (The Searchers, for better and worse, stands way out). Probably because of its bigger budget, Stagecoach fits into the former niche. But for a few nice touches here (the beauty of his framing of interior scenes at mid level - ceilings! ceilings!) and there (the lighting and noise of Lordsburg at night), I find it hard to place it among his best films. I know well enough that calling a film a "classic" can be both a tribute and a kiss of death. (The only thing I don't like about Turner Classic Movies is its middle name.) The occasional process shots, done on a sound stage with rear-screen projection or merely backdrops of landscape or sky, are feeble, especially after going to all the trouble of Monument Valley.

But it's hard to resist this 80 year old film, even with its hideously Shermanesque view of native Americans (according to Sherman, the only good one was a dead one). The irony is that Ford gave them employment when he shot on location, despite the stereotypical roles he gave them as well as at a great deal less than scale as extras. But what would history be without irony?



(1) "Should we be surprised by John Wayne's racist and homophobic views?" The Guardian, 20 February 2019.