"All I Want to Do Is Enter My House Justified!"
The Classic American Western As Emblem of Historic American Culture
Boyd D. Cathey • December 21, 2017 
Since
the beginning of the twentieth century one of the newer art forms and
expressions of our culture has been cinema—“motion pictures.” It was the
novelty of live theater and acting captured as
moving images in film
and presented on a screen. In many respects, like other art forms, film
represents what is happening in our culture. At its very finest it is
capable of shining a vivid light on our beliefs and values, portraying
them, dissecting them, and, like other art forms, it may be used as an
instrument to affect or even shape our outlook and our politics.
The first significant commercial film produced and shown in the United States was The Great Train Robbery
(1903), starring Bronco Billy Anderson. It was just twelve minutes
long. American film culture began, thus, with a Western, and, indeed, it
is arguable that the unique cinematic contribution made by the American
film industry was the Western (according to Elia Kazan). It was from
the classic Western that crime dramas and adventure films were spun off.
One could well argue that major American crime movies up through, say, The Untouchables
or even some more recent representations were “Westerns dressed up with
cops and robbers.” And, those magnificent adventure films about space
exploration—the Star Wars and Star Trek series—are they not Westerns
transported into the relative infinity of space and time, with our
unquenchable desire to explore new frontiers “where no man has gone
before”?
It
is the Western—and its multiple, modern cinematic godchildren—that
represents so well and encapsulates so aptly the movement of American
history, the aspirations and insatiable curiosity of our citizens, and
just how we as a people overcame various challenges in building what
became the United States of America. It is a story of conquering
frontiers as a symbol for the growth and evolution of the American
nation. It offers graphically and sometimes with violence the effects of
right and wrong actions, and the absolute requirement for law and order
in any civilized society. And it is, at its best, a chronicle of great
persons—some real, some idealized, others made up—by whose hands a
nation was fashioned.
We
hold those persons up as heroes and as models. Thus, a Davy Crocket, a
Wild Bill Hickok, a Sam Houston, a Buffalo Bill, a Jesse James—all real
flesh-and-blood people in our past—have vividly emerged from the pages
of our history books and have entered our consciousness, into our
everyday lives. Sometimes, as in the case of a Billy the Kid or maybe
the Clantons of Old Tombstone, they become iconic representations of the
“bad guys”—of the less savory symbols of our history. But in all cases,
they have become reference points that make our history alive and
tangible.
Recently, The Playlist published a list of what it called “The 25 Best Westerns of All Time.” [ https://theplaylist.net/25-best-westerns-time-20170809/
]Reading that list is to understand that as much of Hollywood has moved
strongly to the ideological Left over the past decades, the Hollywood
Western also reflects that movement in the subjects and messages it
seeks to portray. Indeed, the fact that since the late 1960s and early
1970s the Western has receded as a major film genre is, in itself,
significant. For the Western, more than other cinematic manifestations,
is autobiographical about the growth, trials, and, above all, successes
of and pride in the American experience. Since certainly the late
1960s, Vietnam, and the great success of cultural Marxism in our
society, the role of the Western as a reflection of the triumph of
traditional “good” over “evil,” of the ever-advancing and intrepid
frontiersman triumphing over natural hazards, over the elements and
fierce aborigines, has receded. America no longer celebrates those
heroes; if it celebrates “heroes” at all, it is the vaunted pioneers in
civil rights, a Susan B. Anthony or a Nat Turner, or hitherto unknown
feminists (who, save for political correctness, should have remained
unknown).
Right
and wrong, black and white are muddied; we live in an age of the
anti-hero, where inherited and tried-and-true standards of morality and
moral conduct are not only shunted aside, but often ridiculed.
What does John Wayne in, for example, The Searchers or She Wore A Yellow Ribbon,
have to tell us in our society now where even the concept of duty and
obedience to moral right is largely downplayed and considered
unsophisticated by the dominant culture?
In one of the last great classic Western epics, Sam Peckinpah’s Ride the High Country
from 1962, Joel McCrea is asked by his co-star, Randolph Scott, if he
doesn’t really want more in life than just what appears to Scott to be
his drudgery as a lonely, low paid deputy marshal. McCrea’s character,
Steve Judd, responds laconically in one of those immortal lines that
epitomizes both the representative and the didactic roles of the
American Western: “All I want is to enter my house justified.” That is, I
want to fulfill my duty, my God-given duty and appointed role in
society, to obey and keep the law, to receive the precious legacy of the
culture I inherited, perhaps add to it a bit, and then pass it on,
unsullied, to my children and my posterity.
Is
this not the message that the classic Western offered us, and, as well,
was inculcated into the imaginations of millions of young boys and
girls, as well as older adults, during its heyday? Was this not the
message of Matt Dillon on TV’s “Gunsmoke” or Ben Cartwright of the
Ponderosa?
In that incredibly rich John Ford Western, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,
also from 1962, after Jimmy Stewart has recounted to the assembled
newsmen the long history of how he almost inescapably took the credit
for John Wayne’s gun down of the infamous bandit Liberty Valance (played
deliciously by Lee Marvin) and how it propelled him to fame and to the
United States Senate—and how what has been believed for years was
essentially built on a legend, a stunned news reporter replies: “This is
the West, sir. When legend becomes fact, print the legend.”
America—the
America we have loved and wish to preserve and restore—has been dying a
slow death for years for lack not only of genuine heroes, but for lack
of sometimes shadowy, often times mythical, legends. For our society,
our culture, is not only built on the quantifiable advances of science
and materiality, or on the history of new civil rights laws, or on the
growth of the sports and entertainment industry. Every culture has its
legends, its quasi-mythical past that inspires it and adds a certain
attractive richness and purpose to its existence. Without the great
Norse Sagas of Scandinavia, or the legend of King Arthur of Britain, or
the story of Pelayo in Spain, something integral, something very real
and essential in the history of those entities would be lacking.
I remember going to see Ride the High Country
with my dad at the old Ambassador Theater in downtown Raleigh. It was
one of those indelible and intensely moving experiences that always
remains with me. My father, growing up in the Charlotte area, had
actually known the family of Randolph Scott, so the event was special
for him. After the movie, he took the time to explain to me that the
Scott character who, initially, had skipped out on McCrea but returned
to help him fight one last battle with the bad guys (led by James
Drury), had earned redemption and paid the price for his “sin,” by
returning. McCrea, in one of the most memorable death scenes in all
film, has a final conversation with Scott. Scott tells him: “Don’t
worry, I will take care of everything.” (Including getting the gold
shipment back into rightful hands.) McCrea replies: “Heck, I always knew
you would—you just forgot for a while.”
Blessed are those who have the opportunity to repay the price for evil in this
life—that was a message I took away from it. In a marvelous film
representation, two old cowboys brilliantly and wonderfully illustrated
and taught much about duty in life, about the importance of complying
with our obligations, and, finally, about redemption for the sins we
have committed.
Back
then there were dozens of films coming out of Hollywood each year that
represented what was noble and right in our history and that served as
teaching models as we reached manhood. We wanted to be Gene
Autry—we thought Matt Dillon the finest lawman ever—we laughed out loud
with the lovable Hoss Cartwright and Gabby Hayes—we held up John Wayne
as our national hero, whether on a horse out West or aboard a World War
II battle wagon afloat. Tell me who society’s heroes are, and I will
tell you what that society values—and that society’s future.
Those
classic Westerns continue to be popular, although you wouldn’t know it
from the Academy Awards or the hoopla generated by contemporary
Hollywood. I remember a left-leaning film critic remarking in
condescending tones last year that in all likelihood those much-abused
“deplorables” who ended up voting for Donald Trump were probably “the
same people who like old John Wayne Westerns and wanted to be Roy Rogers
when growing up.”
I
think he was right; but for the wrong reasons. For many of the
“deplorables” are people who grew up with the inherited moral
consciousness, a sense of right and wrong, essentially a religious
sense, that had given birth and admirable vitality to this nation, but
which is sorely lacking among so many of our fellow citizens today.
Mention John Wayne, Audie Murphy or Clint Eastwood (of Outlaw Josey Wales
fame) to a “deplorable” of a certain age, and you get a smile of
acknowledgement and agreement. I don’t know many liberals who like Fort Apache….
To
enliven the moral imagination and to also appreciate the legacy of our
endangered culture there is no better and no simpler way than to engage
in viewing the best of classic Westerns.
And,
so, I’d like to offer a short list of some of the finer Western films
out there, all available on DVD. Some are catchable occasionally on the
TCM and Encore Westerns channels. The list is mine, and you may have
your own favorites.
First,
the collaboration of director John Ford and John Wayne was truly unique
in cinematic history. Some of their finest films are: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, which has to rank near the top of any list of great Westerns. Then, there is the cavalry trilogy from the late 1940s (Fort Apache, Rio Grande, and She Wore A Yellow Ribbon). None of these films is politically-correct—consider the band playing “Dixie” at the cavalry pass-by at the end of Rio Grande or the moving respect given to deceased former Confederate general “Private John Smith” (aka, Rome Clay) in She Wore A Yellow Ribbon. Critics generally consider Stagecoach and The Searchers
to be the best Ford/Wayne collaborations, and, again, political
correctness and modern egalitarianism find no defenders therein. Rather,
obedience to duty, moral courage, loyalty to one’s state and
family—these are the virtues celebrated and heralded.
The late Professor Mel Bradford once told me that the John Wayne vehicle, Red River,
was his favorite film, and I can see why, as it is the story of
post-War Between the States Texas and the great legendary cattle drives.
But also it unravels in detail conflicting loyalties, the father and
son relationship, the belief in honor and in keeping one’s word as a
bond of trust.
I have mentioned Sam Peckinpah’s Ride the High Country,
with Randy Scott and Joel McCrea, both, by the way, hard core
conservatives politically, as were the vast majority of Western actors.
Right before playing in Ride the High Country, Scott did a series of seven lean Westerns with director Budd Boetticher, beginning with Seven Men from Now and ending with Comanche Station,
each recounting the story of a man alone against the elements and
against those who would stop him: always there was duty to be fulfilled
and honor to be kept.
Many
Westerns are, to be correct, “Southern Westerns” that use the War
Between the States as an essential backdrop, an integral “player” in the
plot and action. Thus, such standout films as Jesse James (with Tyrone Power, Henry Fonda, Randolph Scott), The Return of Frank James (with Fonda), Run of the Arrow (with Rod Steiger),The True Story of Jesse James (with Robert Wagner and Jeffrey Hunter), Rebel in Town (with John Payne) and the largely unknown, but personal favorite, Rocky Mountain
(with Errol Flynn and Slim Pickens) are movies that at the least
present the Southern viewpoint, unmarred by modern political correctness
or the cultural Marxist fascination about race that everything must
revolve around that subject.
James
Garner is well-known for his portrayal in TV’s “Maverick” series, but
he also starred in several underrated oaters, most notably Hour of the Gun from 1967, a kind of continuation of the classic 1950s Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.
Featuring Garner, Robert Ryan and Jason Robards (as Doc Holliday), it
continues the famous O. K. Corral narrative to its deadly conclusion. At
first ignored by film critics, it has gained in reputation in recent
years. It’s one of my favorites as a superb study of how Wyatt Earp’s
(Garner’s) character changes over time and through tragedy.
Two
more John Ford creations fill out this short list, and they both
emphasize a fundamental moral understanding—that underlying and
undergirding the basis of our culture there is a religious sensibility.
First, there is his 1948 version of Three Godfathers, again with
Wayne and also Ward Bond and Harry Carey Jr. (Ford has his famous “stock
company” of dependable and outstanding actors), with its deeply
Christian symbolism of penance and redemption. And, then, Wagon Master
(with Carey, Bond and a young Ben Johnson), a lyrical chronicle of
pilgrims searching for that ideal valley, that eventual home where they
may set down roots and raise their families under both Natural and
Divine Positive law. In so many words, is it not the story of the
American experience, of blood and land, and rootedness and faith?
We
cannot separate our politics from our culture and history. The culture
of our society reflects in large measure the religious outlook we have
and exhibit. As Cardinal John Henry Newman observed more than a century
and a half ago: political issues always reflect an essentially religious question at their base.
Classic
Westerns offer insight into who we have been as a people, our hopes and
aspirations, our trials and tragedies, but also our triumphs. They
offer in film the stories of legendary heroes and heroic events, hold up
honor and duty as admirable benchmarks, emphasize the importance of
family and of place, and they reveal the necessity of a grounded
religious faith in the pursuit of our ideals.
In
all the talk about “Making America Great Again” we must understand that
such efforts involve a panoply of activities on different levels, not
just about how we vote, but also in the family, the church, the school,
and what we do for entertainment. And one way to accomplish this is, in
the place of the tawdry and garish “kulchur” that parades before us, to
gather in family and view a classic John Wayne/John Ford film or
something with one of those fine Westerners of yesteryear, a Joel McCrea
or a Randolph Scott or maybe a Audie Murphy.
Our
heritage and those principles we hold most dear will live but only if
we let them live first within us, and if we pass them on, unsullied, to
our children. The culture we have received from our ancestors, in the
great legends and wonderful stories brought to the silver screen,
nourish the moral imagination and help repair the disintegrative
diseases of the modern mind.
“All
I want is to enter my house justified”—to do my duty and fulfill my
purpose before God, my family and my fellow men…and, indeed, doing that
make America great again.
No comments:
Post a Comment