The Searchers (1956)

Nora's Nite

Time Magazine, June 1956:

The Searchers (C. V. Whitney; Warner) is another excursion into the patented Old West of Director John Ford. The place is Texas, three years after the Civil War, and the lone figure moving across the vast plain is none other than lean, leathery, disenchanted John Wayne, still wearing bits of his Confederate uniform, still looking for trouble. Trouble finds him. One day, while John's back is turned, Chief Scar and his wild Comanches swoop down and massacre his relatives, carrying off two young girls for their own fell purposes.

Wayne promptly fills his trusty horse with hay and sets off on a fiveyear, Technicolor, VistaVision search for the girls. His itinerary sounds like that of Lewis & Clark, but the camera never seems to get outside Arizona and Utah's beautiful Monument Valley. Tagging along is Jeffrey Hunter, who spends nearly as much time trying to soften Wayne's vindictiveness as he does hunting Indians. Though the film runs for two hours, it nevertheless races through its individual scenes at so breakneck a pace that moviegoers may be uncertain just what is going on. Director Ford indulges his Homeric appetite for violence of spirit and action. Coming on the corpse of a hated Comanche, Wayne shoots out the dead man's eyes on the debatable theological principle that the Indian's blinded ghost cannot find its way to the Happy Hunting Grounds.

One of the kidnaped girls is raped by four braves and killed off early in the picture. The other (Natalie Wood), when finally found, proves to be a contented member of Chief Scar's harem. Wayne is so annoyed that he tries to shoot her dead and is only thwarted by an Indian attack.

The lapses in logic and the general air of incoherence are only minor imperfections in a film as carefully contrived as a matchstick castle. The Searchers is rousingly played by what Hollywood calls the "John Ford Stock Company"—a group made up of Wayne, Harry Carey Jr., Ward Bond, a half-dozen bit players, seven stunt men who are repeatedly shot off horses, and many of the same Navajo Indians who have been losing battles in John Ford pictures since 1938. By now, all of them perform with practiced ease: the women know just where to stand on the cabin porch as they peer off anxiously into the haze and mesa-filled distances; the men automatically fall into line for a barn dance or a posse. In fact, they may be getting too practiced and familiar. Even John Wayne seems to have done it once too often as he makes his standardized, end-of-film departure into the sunset.

Screenplay structure guru Syd Field gropes for meaning in a cruel, indifferent universe:

While I was watching The Searchers, I tried to relate Campbell's concepts to Ethan's journey. Though Ethan is placed in a situation where he confronts a series of obstacles in order to achieve a higher state of consciousness, he refuses to bend his principles, or his beliefs, to the issue at hand. His journey is both a physical as well as spiritual one, because it takes place inside his head as well as outside in the obstacles he confronts. In Campbell's work, the hero in his journey experiences a symbolic transformation of death and resurrection as he casts off the old parts of his life; he needs to be re-born and emerge into the "birth" of his new self. In mythological terms, Campbell says, the heroes' journey is one of acceptance; the hero must accept his fate, his destiny, no matter whether it is life or death.

This is not the case in The Searchers.
he first thing I noticed is that John Wayne's character doesn't change. There is no transformation in his character; he's exactly the same at the end of the movie as he was at the beginning. Wayne's image, as a man of action, is heroic precisely because he does not change; he refuses to give up, bend or alter his ways until his mission is accomplished; to find and rescue the kidnapped girl. And when he does find her, we don't know whether he's going to kill, or embrace her. Finally, in a dramatic scene, he relents and embraces her. At the end, when the family enters the house to celebrate their return, Wayne remains outside the doorway, a desolate, homeless drifter doomed to wander "between the winds."
In Campbell's analysis, the hero weathers every obstacle but returns home a wiser and better person, sharing his newfound awareness with his fellow man. That certainly doesn't happen in The Searchers. At the end of The Searchers, it is his very strength of character that leads to his isolation and loneliness. In comparing it to other films of the period, this is the start of the "anti-hero," the character who goes his own way even though it may be against the laws of society.

What makes this film a classic, I think, is that the traditional moral lines of good and bad, or right and wrong, and black and white, are blurred. It's is a tribute to Ford's genius that he could combine both the look and feel of an epic Western, as well as reflect the social nature of the times and the very ambiguity of the changing times.

Tim Dirks via Filmsite.org:

The Searchers (1956) is considered by many to be a true American masterpiece of filmmaking, and the best, most influential, and perhaps most-admired film of director John Ford. It was his 115th feature film, and he was already a four-time Best Director Oscar winner (The Informer (1935), The Grapes of Wrath (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and The Quiet Man (1952)) - all for his pictures of social comment rather than his quintessential westerns. The film's complex, deeply-nuanced themes included racism, individuality, the American character, and the opposition between civilization (exemplified by homes, caves, and other domestic interiors) and the untamed frontier wilderness.

With dazzling on-location, gorgeous VistaVision cinematography (including the stunning red sandstone rock formations of Monument Valley) by Winton C. Hoch in Ford's most beloved locale, the film handsomely captures the beauty and isolating danger of the frontier. It was even a better film than Ford's previous Best Picture-winning How Green Was My Valley (1941). However, at its time, the sophisticated, modern, visually-striking film was unappreciated, misunderstood, and unrecognized by critics. It did not receive a single Academy Award nomination, and was overwhelmed by the all-star power and glamour of the Best Picture winner of the year, Around the World in 80 Days (1956).

The film's screenplay was adapted by Frank S. Nugent (director Ford's son-in-law) from Alan Le May's 1954 novel of the same name, that was first serialized as a short story in late fall 1954 issues of the Saturday Evening Post, and first titled The Avenging Texans. Various similarities existed between the film's script and an actual Comanche kidnapping of a young white girl in Texas in 1936. The film's producer was C.V. Whitney - a descendant of Eli Whitney, who was a pioneer in the mass production of muskets in the first firearms assembly factory in New Haven, CT.

Ten to fifteen years after the film's debut, and after reassessing it as a cinematic milestone, a generation of "New Hollywood" film directors, French film critics and others, including Martin Scorsese, Paul Schrader, Steven Spielberg, John Milius, Jean-Luc Godard, Wim Wenders, and George Lucas, praised the film. They traced their own fascination with film to this mythic John Ford western, and in reverence, reflected his work in their own films (e.g., Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976), Who's That Knocking at My Door? (1968), and Mean Streets (1973), Lucas' Star Wars (1977), Spielberg's Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West (1969), and Schrader's Hardcore (1979)). Even rock musician Buddy Holly wrote a song based on John Wayne's trademark line: "That'll Be The Day," popularized by the Beatles.
The Searchers tells the emotionally complex story of a perilous, hate-ridden quest and Homeric-style odyssey of self-discovery after a Comanche massacre, while also exploring the themes of racial prejudice and sexism. Its meandering tale examines the inner psychological turmoil of a fiercely independent, crusading man obsessed with revenge and hatred, who searches for his two nieces (Pippa Scott and Natalie Wood) among the "savages" over a five-year period. The film's major tagline echoed the search: "he had to find her...he had to find her."

The Importance of Being Earnest (1952)

Stuart's Nite
First movie out of the giant boxed Janus set.

Wilde biography via Official Oscar Wilde site:

In December 1881, Oscar sailed for New York to travel across the United States and deliver a series of lectures on aesthetics. The 50-lecture tour was originally scheduled to last four months, but stretched to nearly a year, with over 140 lectures given in 260 days. In between lectures he made time to meet with Henry Longfellow, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Walt Whitman. He also arranged for his play, “Vera,” to be staged in New York the following year. When he returned from America, Oscar spent three months in Paris writing a blank-verse tragedy that had been commissioned by the actress Mary Anderson. When he sent it to her, however, she turned it down. He then set off on a lecture tour of Britain and Ireland.

On May 29, 1884, Oscar married Constance Lloyd. Constance was four years younger than Oscar and the daughter of a prominent barrister who died when she was 16. She was well-read, spoke several European languages and had an outspoken, independent mind. Oscar and Constance had two sons in quick succession, Cyril in 1885 and Vyvyan in 1886. With a family to support, Oscar accepted a job revitalizing the Woman's World magazine, where he worked from 1887-1889. The next six years were to become the most creative period of his life. He published two collections of children's stories, “The Happy Prince and Other Tales” (1888), and “The House of Pomegranates” (1892). His first and only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, was published in an American magazine in 1890 to a storm of critical protest. He expanded the story and had it published in book form the following year. Its implied homoerotic theme was considered very immoral by the Victorians and played a considerable part in his later legal trials. Oscar's first play, “Lady Windermere's Fan,” opened in February 1892. Its financial and critical success prompted him to continue to write for the theater. His subsequent plays included “A Woman of No Importance” (1893), “An Ideal Husband” (1895), and “The Importance of Being Earnest” (1895). These plays were all highly acclaimed and firmly established Oscar as a playwright.

For more on Joan Greenwood, see the Movienite posts on Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) and The Man in the White Suit (1951).

Amazing connection via ScreenOnline:

The last and most popular of his social comedies, Oscar Wilde's play The Importance of Being Earnes opened at London's St James' theatre on Valentine's Day 1895. Its initial run, however, was cut short by Wilde's prosecution for immorality, which ironically was brought by one of his social acquaintances of the time, the then Home Secretary (and later Prime Minister)Herbert Asquith. In a somewhat bizarre turn, Asquith's son Anthony eventually made the first film version.

Geoffrey Macnab on the neglected Anthony Asquith via Guardian Unlimited:

"Puffin" (as his mother nicknamed him, because of his bird-like profile) is one of the most exotic and eccentric characters in British film history. A tiny figure with a fay and gentle manner, he was famous for wearing a blue boiler suit on set, and for sitting cross-legged beneath the camera during shooting. "He dressed like one of the electricians. If anything, he was less well groomed," actress Wendy Hiller recalled of him. Despite his aristocratic background, he was the first British director to join a trade union, serving for 30 years as president of industry body the Association of Cinematograph and Television Technicians (ACTT). In the process, he helped improve pay and conditions for workers, and played a key role in the battle to prevent the government closing down film production during the second world war. "He was a unique and indispensable figure in the British cinema," observed Harold Wilson after Asquith's death in 1968.

Actors and technicians revered Asquith. "He was delightful, charming as a man. To me, he was the best director I have ever worked with," says Jean Kent, one of the leading British stars of the 1940s, who made three films with him. Otto Plaschke, second assistant director on his 1958 feature, Orders to Kill, agrees: "Everybody adored Puffin. He was the most enchanting man." While making The Way to the Stars, Asquith struck up one of the more unlikely friendships of his life with Joe Jones, owner of a transport cafe in Catterick, who subsequently employed him as a dishwasher and waiter. "He used to serve the lorry drivers at breakfast time," Jonathan Cecil says. "They [Joe's family] were a kind of surrogate family to him. Joe helped Puffin to kick the alcohol."

Between his stints at Joe's cafe, Asquith was making films such as The Importance of Being Earnest and The Winslow Boy. He was also trying to curb his drinking at a notoriously tough "drying-out" clinic. Even here, Cecil recalls, his trademark courtesy did not desert him. "They'd bring him a bowl of whisky with vinegar in it so it would make him nauseous. They had all these fighting drunks, cursing and being held down, and they'd bring this bowl of revolting muck for him to drink and he'd say, 'Oh, my dear ... that's so kind.' "

By making adaptations of Rattigan, Oscar Wilde and Bernard Shaw plays, Asquith ensured that he would be pigeonholed as a purveyor of tasteful, middlebrow fare. The influential critic Raymond Durgnat coined the phrase "Rattigasquith" to dismiss these literary adaptations.

In their own unfussy way, Asquith's best movies are superbly crafted. The Importance of Being Earnest, for example, works so well precisely because he doesn't try to open up the material for the screen. Calling it "an artificial comedy of the theatre", he celebrates rather than disguises its stage origins. He also elicits exemplary performances from Margaret Rutherford (to whom he once fed whiskey to calm her nerves), Redgrave and others. "He had a marvelous way of coaxing what he wanted out of you," Jean Kent says. She, at least, is convinced that he is woefully undervalued. "I don't think he was ever given his due ... not that his reputation ever mattered to him."

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Breaking Bad Poster

I know, I know. This blog isn't about Breaking Bad but I can't resist this poster, I think it's the best one yet:
Also this article describes a set visit, the reporter describes Walt and Hank smoking cigars and drinking -- a scene I wrote. What a thrill. Additionally, take a look at the Breaking Bad interactive site! And, if you're so inclined, the Facebook Game: "Breaking Bad: Chemical Codebreaker"! Better yet, watch the show starting on Sunday, January 20th.