Saturday, August 15, 2009

Rio Bravo

[This review has been cross-posted at Decisions At Sundown, a blog started by Jon Lanthier and dedicated exclusively to the Western genre. From now on I will be cross-posting all of my Western reviews with this blog, where I am one of several contributors.]

Howard Hawks' Rio Bravo is the pinnacle of the director's late style, in which he increasingly stripped his films down into ambling, nearly plotless examinations of his signature themes and the interactions of his characters. Hawks' cinema was always more about relationships than stories: relationships between male friends, between men and women getting to know one another, between professionals working on dangerous jobs together. Rio Bravo is about all these things, and as in much of Hawks' other late work, all the extraneous stuff, like the narrative, is pared away to focus more directly on these relationships as they develop and change. The plot itself is utter simplicity. Small-town sheriff John T. Chance (John Wayne) arrests Joe Burdette (Claude Akins), the brother of the notorious outlaw Nathan Burdette (John Russell). Chance holds Joe in the town's tiny jail, while Nathan schemes to break his brother out. The film was famously inspired by Hawks' well-known hatred of Fred Zinnemann's High Noon, in which Gary Cooper's small-town sheriff must plead with the unwilling townspeople to help him face off against an outlaw who's coming for revenge. The macho Hawks obviously despised this show of weakness, and conceived of Chance as standing virtually alone against the encroaching outlaws, aided only by a motley assortment of true friends: the drunken former deputy Dude (Dean Martin), the old cripple Stumpy (Walter Brennan), and eventually the quick-shooting young Colorado (Ricky Nelson).

From this slight material, an archetypal white hat/black hat story, Hawks developed one of the great works of cinema. His patient pacing allows plenty of time for the character arcs to develop naturally. Dude was once a proud, tough man, brought low by a woman and reduced to a pathetic drunkard, memorably introduced in the opening scenes stooping to pick up a coin that a man throws into a spittoon for him. Throughout the film, he struggles with his alcoholism, trying to regain control of himself, to reassert his dignity and intelligence and bravery, as well as his formidability with a gun. Chance is, in comparison, a bedrock of stoic self-confidence and moral rigor, though Hawks emphasizes that he's merely human too by including all of the fumbling, awkward love scenes with Angie Dickinson's ambiguous bad gal Feathers. These scenes play off of Wayne's own obvious discomfort in romantic scenes, infusing a layer of metafiction into each of them: is Chance thrown off balance by Feathers, or Wayne by Dickinson? Seemingly the only thing that can ruffle Wayne's drawling onscreen persona, pushing him out of his comfort zone, is the presence of a pretty girl, a fact Hawks would take advantage of again in Hatari!, to equally amusing effect.

There's a lot more going on in this film, too, even as virtually nothing actually happens. The film simply rambles along, the connective tissue between set pieces often consisting of lengthy scenes where the characters just sit around and shoot the breeze. Much of the film takes place in the tight, constricted space of the jail, where Hawks is comfortable filming tight, constricted compositions crammed with people. The joy of the filmmaking is palpable in every frame; there are few Hollywood movies that are so relaxed, so carefree. Watching Rio Bravo feels like spending a few hours on the set with Wayne, Brennan, Martin and Nelson, hanging out, cracking jokes, sparring sometimes in jest and sometimes in earnest, shifting between the two so smoothly that it's hard to tell when the characters' jokes bleed over into genuine hurt. The film is packed with incident, but somehow it never seems to add up to a real forward-moving plot, perhaps because the whole film is based around stasis: it's a waiting game. That's what gives it its unique charm.

The easygoing pace also allows Hawks the time to examine his themes and characters in depth, with subtle touches rather than broad gestures. There's surprising nuance and emotion in set pieces like the one where Stumpy nearly blows off Dude's head when the latter enters the jail unexpectedly. On its face, its a comic bit of action, a near-miss that the men can laugh about because it wasn't a hit. But it also lays bare some of the deeper emotions at the core of the story. Stumpy doesn't recognize Dude to begin with because the former drunk has cleaned up and gotten sober, has taken a bath and donned some new clothes, replacing his old threadbare, filthy rags. He looks like a real man again, and Stumpy, accustomed to seeing him as a ragged beggar, doesn't even realize it's him. It mirrors the earlier scene where the rancher Pat Wheeler (Ward Bond) doesn't recognize Dude because he'd never seen him sober before. Underneath the violent humor of the incident, there's this poignant undercurrent, as Dude is reminded yet again of how far he'd fallen, while Stumpy, behind his ornery chatter, is horrified by what he almost did to his friend.


Hawks treats these complex emotions seriously, but he never allows them to truly overwhelm the film's surface charm, its low-key wit and humor. After all, this is a film in which, at a pivotal moment, the characters decide to take a break and have a good old singalong, showcasing the star voices of Nelson and Martin. It's a wonderful moment, a perfect indication of the film's total commitment to its anti-narrative languor: when the tension is at its peak, the final showdown approaching, the characters break out into not just one but two folksy songs in a row, as though they had all the time in the world. Dude is lying on a cot with his hat shading his eyes, Colorado plays the guitar, and Stumpy hollers and plays the harmonica, all while Chance looks on, smiling benevolently, too stiff to join the fun but not to enjoy it. Indeed, one would have to be pretty stiff not to enjoy this film, which encourages the audience to revel in the sparkle of the dialogue and the ways in which the charming personalities of these likable actors blend seamlessly into their characters. Hawks, though he appreciated fresh faces too, was always adept at using star personalities in interesting ways, zeroing in on the essence of an actor and channeling that into his or her onscreen persona.

Here, the confined space of the jail allows Hawks to play these personalities off of one another, ricocheting Brennan's manic grouchiness off of Martin's slouching, half-speed delivery, while Nelson's boyish confidence resonates as a nascent version of Wayne's mature persona, his unflappable manliness. The film juggles these different personalities admirably, and the film's tone shifts smoothly between comic patter, hesitant romance, slow-building suspense, and action. Indeed, despite the laidback pace, Rio Bravo boasts some exceptional action sequences, not only the justifiably famous final shootout, in which Chance and his allies finally defeat the bad guys with dynamite, but also an earlier scene in which Chance and Dude track an assassin to a saloon filled with Burdette's men. This scene is formally precise, rigid in its geometry and use of the bar's space. It's through angles that Chance and Dude control the room, lining up the men at gunpoint in a straight line on one side of the room. The way Hawks frames this scene emphasizes how the two heroes remain on opposite sides of the room, both angled towards the disarmed bad guys, forming a triangle with the bar at its base and its point balancing on the line of criminals. The scene's denouement, in which Dude discovers the hiding assassin by noticing the man's blood dripping down into a glass of beer from above in the rafters, is similarly precise in its formal mastery.

For all these reasons and many more, Rio Bravo is one of Hawks' most sublime achievements: it's more like an old friend than a film, a familiar place to visit and revisit over and over again, always enjoying the company and the ragged charm of its storytelling.

10 comments:

Sam Juliano said...

There is no reason to pose comparison here with the "onject of didain" Zinemann's HIGH NOON, which as you note was th ework that inspired the macho Hawks to proceed with this western classic (one of his greatest films too) But I still give the slight edge to HIGH NOON, which I feel is as perfect a film as we have in American cinema. Perfect in construction, in tension, in mide en scene, in performances, and controlled direction. And an array of unforgettable supporting chacaters that are permanently etched in your consciousness. Of course, the idea that civilians should help the sheriff appeals to me and my own sensibilities, but in Hawks' western ethic, it's a sign of weakness, as the events an dnarrative of RIO BRAVO so compellingly ascribe. And yes, I completely agree here:

"From this slight material, an archetypal white hat/black hat story, Hawks developed one of the great works of cinema. His patient pacing allows plenty of time for the character arcs to develop naturally..."

and most especially here:

"There's a lot more going on in this film, too, even as virtually nothing actually happens. The film simply rambles along, the connective tissue between set pieces often consisting of lengthy scenes where the characters just sit around and shoot the breeze. Much of the film takes place in the tight, constricted space of the jail, where Hawks is comfortable filming tight, constricted compositions crammed with people. The joy of the filmmaking is palpable in every frame; there are few Hollywood movies that are so relaxed, so carefree...."

Your work on Godard, Rivette, Pialat, Lynch and Fassbinder is superlative throughout, but Hawks belongs in that pantheon as far as you are concerned.

The moral masculine bond, informed by heroism is at the center of a film that makes great use of humor, a Hawks trademark. In the pantheon of great westerns, I can only rate two of the entire batch as higher than this: THE SEARCHERS and HIGH NOON. Which means it contends for the #3 spot with me. But rating here is probably an injustice to this masterpiece of cinema.

Ed Howard said...

Thanks, Sam. I should be clear that I don't agree with Hawks about High Noon in the least. I think Zinnemann's film is a great achievement, a formalist/moralist Western on a par with the work of Boetticher or Mann. And in terms of my personal beliefs, the communitarian message of High Noon resonates with me far more than the macho individualism of Hawks' vision. The two films are very different, and aim at completely different things. I ultimately prefer the Hawks film as a film (as opposed to as a message or philosophy), but they're taking such different approaches to the same genre that it's hard to compare them beyond the themes.

Sam Juliano said...

....but they're taking such different approaches to the same genre that it's hard to compare them beyond the themes."

Indeed. It's tough to contest that. And I'm with you on that "commanitarian" position too.

Allan Fish said...

Part of the reason Rio Bravo is a better film is that High Noon's supporting characters are strictly stereotypical ciphers, no more than plot devices. Secondly, it's all so damned rehearsed that it seems aching for reverence, much in the manner of Stagecoach and Shane, all textbook classic westerns but no longer fresh. Bravo resonates more because it's not at its heart a western, it's about cameraderie and friendship, like many of Hawks' best films.

Samuel Wilson said...

Allan makes one of the stronger arguments for Rio Bravo's superiority, one that I as a High Noon defender tend to overlook in my emphasis on Cooper's work. I don't think the ensemble in High Noon is weak, but the story does force them into eventually predictable responses to Will Kane's predicament. That's okay if your focus is on the building pressure on the hero, as is Zinnemann's, but I can see how someone could prefer Hawks's work with his ensemble.

Krauthammer said...

I think I fell asleep during High Noon, so I can't judge.

Tim said...

All this talk about High Noon and Rio Bravo and no one has uttered the word "Blacklist" yet? That's the real motivation behind the Rio Bravo as response to High Noon bit. High Noon criticizing the blacklist and Rio Bravo embracing it.

John said...

Two great westerns, which are both on my list of being the best in their genre. My biggest complaint with Rio Bravo is Ricky Nelson's performance, or lack of, He is infinitely unconvincing as a gunslinger.

BTW - I like Neslson as a singer.

Ed Howard said...

Allan does make a good point: High Noon's appeal is mainly formalist, since other than its central figure, it's full of plot devices rather than characters. That's not the kind of film that the character-obsessed Hawks could ever make.

Tim, yes, High Noon is an anti-blacklist film, with Gary Cooper as the communist ostracized by his community, who quickly forget everything he's done for them. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say Rio Bravo is a pro-blacklist film, though; it's opposed to High Noon but otherwise there's not much textual support for a reading of the film as embracing McCarthyism.

John, I don't have much of a problem with Nelson; he doesn't add much to the film as an actor, but I certainly don't find him distracting. That's good enough. His part is fairly minimal.

Dave said...

Ed - A super review here! My love of this film has been on display recently in my own write-up and then in discussions that Sam, John, Samuel and I had over at Twenty Four Frames. Allan sums up perfectly why I place Rio Bravo so high and consider it among the best westerns and films I've seen:

"Bravo resonates more because it's not at its heart a western, it's about camaraderie and friendship, like many of Hawks' best films."

That's what has stuck with me about the film after watching it who knows how many times.

And I would also disagree with the assessment of Rio Bravo being a pro-Blacklist film. That seems to take it just a bit too far in the High Noon comparison and debate.