Reeling Backward: "The Far Country" (1954)

James Stewart and director Anthony Mann made eight films together between 1950 and 1955, five of them Westerns that have stood the test of time, with "Winchester '73" probably the best known of the bunch. Though the stories are very different, there are a lot of thematic similarities, with Stewart usually playing an ornery loner who comes to recognize that he can't completely detach himself from society without suffering an ill fate.

His Jeff Webster from 1954's "The Far Country" is a prime example. A doggedly independent cattle driver who throws off any attempt to yoke him to a place or a people, Jeff's credo is, "I can take care of myself." He repeatedly rejects calls to act in an altruistic way, believing that if can look after himself, then others should do the same for themselves.

Of course, in the end he must rely upon others to survive, and in turn is motivated to take up arms to protect them against other gunmen who are much like his old self.

What's truly interesting about "The Far Country" is what's left unsaid. Screenwriter Borden Chase, who also penned the scripts for "Winchester '73" and another Stewart/Mann Western, "Bend of the River," gives his characters a distinctive sense of presence without necessarily an explicit backstory to go with it. That we must fill in ourselves.

We don't know much about Jeff Webster, other than he came from Wyoming, is driving a herd of cattle up to Alaska, and plans to use the proceeds to buy a ranch in Utah with his longtime companion, Ben Tatem, a cantankerous oldster from the Walter Brennan stock of cowboys, miners and soldiers.

Ben walks with a hitch, wear a hat with an upturned brim, speaks in a squawky yodel, can do most anything with his hands but doesn't have a lot of sense. His tendency to amiably gab about most anything repeatedly gets the duo in trouble, most notably his buying of two pounds of coffee grounds the day after buying two more, which raises eyebrows and suspicions that turn fatal.

Why Ben is the only person Jeff seems to have any attachment to remains a total mystery, even after Ben is killed off about three-quarters of the way through the movie. (Sorry, no spoiler warnings after 63 years.) Jeff will even affectionately grab Ben's chin or cheek and light his pipe for him, pledging to protect him and look after him in his doddering years.

Clearly they have history together, but its nature remains doggedly obscured. They actually once owned a spread together, but Jeff got the itch to wander again, and off they want, pursuing the bird in the bush they already had in hand. Jeff took the tinkly little bell that Ben hung over their door and attached it to his saddle horn, which becomes his quirk and calling card.

There's not a lot to the story, which is more driven by character clashes than anything else. Jeff and Ben arrive in Seattle with a small herd of cattle that they intend to ferry up to Skagway, Alaska, and then on to the gold rush town of Dawson. The film is set in 1896, long after the California rushes had played out, but while there was still plenty of color to be had panning the streams up north.

(I'm not sure if there were budget constraints on the film, but Mann struggles to achieve any shots where it looks like there's more than 20 steers.)

There are two cowhands with them who are paid $100 apiece, and clearly want to plug Jeff in the back now that the job is done. It seems two other fellows tried to ride off with part of the herd and Jeff shot them down. They report him to the local authorities, who arrive to arrest Jeff just after the ferry has departed. Jeff hides out in the state room of a wealthy woman, Ronda Castle (Ruth Roman), and a romance ensues that simmers the rest of the movie.

Things go poorly when they arrive in Alaska. The ferrymen try to extort Ben and a new addition, the lawman-turned-drunkard Rube Morris (Jay C. Flippen), out of $5,000 in bogus fees. But Jeff rides the cows right off the boat ramp into town, where they jostle the hangman's gallows the local lawman, Judge Gannon (John McIntire), has built to string up three men.

In short order, Gannon has confiscated the herd as a fine for disrupting the execution. It quickly becomes clear that Gannon is little more than a local robber-baron, using the mantle of the law to confiscate property to add to his growing wealth and influence. It turns out that Miss Castle is his partner, running the Skagway Castle saloon as part of his empire designed to gyp gold miners. For instance, Gannon has a local law that no one can depart town without at least 100 pounds of food, and he owns the only grocery.

Castle is sent ahead to Dawson to establish a base there, with Jeff and Ben's cattle as grubstake. Castle hires Jeff as driver of his own herd, along with add-on cowboys (including Harry Morgan.) There are dangers and arguments along the way, including an avalanche where Jeff initially refuses to help those trapped.

Acting as his conscious is Renee Vallon (Corinne Calvet), a strong-headed French/Canadian ingenue who also sets her adoring gaze upon Jeff. The love triangle continues throughout the rest of the story, with Jeff manfully displaying absolutely no interest in either one of the women.

(I'm sure a critic writing from a queer perspective would have a field day with this film.)

Things go fine for a while in Dawson, with Jeff stealing back his herd from Castle, and her then buying it back for him, outbidding the local hash house run by three tough older gals: Hominy (Connie Gilchrist), Grits (Kathleen Freeman) and Molasses (Connie Van). With the hastily put-up Dawson Castle serving steaks and the trio of ladies stuck with bear stew, Gannon quickly has a foothold.

Soon he'll show up himself in his top hat and mortician's suit, laying claim to gold claims that aren't his. He rounds himself up some muscle, including Morgan and google-eyed Jack Elam, and personally guns down good-natured miner, Dusty (Chubby Johnson), when he tries to stand up to him. He also backs down Rube, who has been tapped as marshal (after Jeff refuses the job).

Jeff parlays his cattle proceeds into a prosperous claim of his own, planning to split town as soon as he and Ben have enough gold for their Utah dreams. Gannon's men are staking themselves outside town to jump departing miners at Two Mile Pass, but Jeff has a plan to take a secret Indian route along the river. But then Ben blabs about the coffee, he's killed and Jeff is shot up.

Nursed back to health by Renee, with a little assistance from Castle, Jeff finally sees the error of his ways and opts to take on Gannon in an obligatory showdown.

The relationship between Gannon and Jeff is rich with subtleties. They take an instant like to each other, despite the consistently oppositional nature of their encounters. They are closely aligned in skillset and their belief that people should rise or file by dint of their own willingness to stand up for themselves and claim what's theirs.

The difference is that while Jeff is a pure individualist, preferring to "find his own trails," Gannon uses the pioneer code as cover to mask his malevolent manipulations. Despite his title of Judge and position as the law, he really thrives on chaos and bullying. Gannon represents the evil that prospers when good men like Jeff do nothing, concerning themselves with themselves.

(Screenwriter Chase doubtlessly based Gannon on legendary Western con man "Soapy" Smith, who operated in a number of places including Skagway, where he was eventually gunned down in a dispute over a bag of stolen gold flakes. Though Soapy preferred to have lawmen on his payroll rather than wear a badge and a gun himself.)

"The Far Country" is really a tidy morality tale that acts as counterpoint to the classic John Wayne type of Western, where a man's gotta be a man, and womenfolk stay put in the background -- preferably the kitchen.

Reeling Backward: "The Wild One" (1953)

Yes, Brando again. There's quite a bit of bullshit associated with the now-iconic movie "The Wild One." Almost everything about it is fake or contrived. Yet it remains one of Brando's most remembered roles, and its style more or less defined the look of the 1950s youth movement.

First of all, the movie was a huge flop when it came out. Brando had already had his breakout role in "A Streetcar Named Desire," and had just appeared as Mark Antony in "Julius Caesar" prior to this film. Yet people often regard "The Wild One" as an influential commercial hit. Laslo Benedek directed from a script by John Paxton.

Second, it was based on an event that happened in real life in 1947 that was greatly exaggerated by Life Magazine. Some bikers came to Hollister, Calif., for a motorcycle rally. There was some rowdiness, a great deal of drinking, some arrests and a few injuries as serious as a broken bone. But it was nothing like the sordid tales of a mob of biker thugs "taking over" a small, peaceful town.

Journalists trumped up a good story, and Hollywood decided to trump that one.

It's also interesting that the hooligans in "The Wild One" are constantly referred to as very young punks. Brando's character, Johnny Stabler, is almost always described by the older townsfolks as a "boy," even though the actor was nearly 30 years old at the time. The joking, smirking members of Johnny's gang, the Black Rebels Motorcycle Club, sneeringly refer to their elders as "Dad" or "Pops." Even if the actors portraying them were much older -- there's one guy glimpsed in the mix who must be middle-aged -- I think the BRMCers are supposed to be teenagers.

This sets up a question of who exactly the bikers are supposed to represent. The real Hollister "rioters" were grown men, indeed probably many of them veterans returning from the war who were looking for a chance to cut loose after their nightmarish experiences. Teenagers in 1953, though, would put the BRMC firmly amidst the "Silent Generation" born during the Great Depression to World War II. Even the threat of being drafted into the Korean War was winding down by the time the movie came out.

It's the difference between those who earned our freedom with a debt of blood and the kids who grew up benefiting from the bravery of their forebears.

There's also the notion that "The Wild One" is a celebration of youthful rebellion. When you really drill down into the story, though -- a straightforward, terse affair at a mere 79 minutes -- you find that the filmmakers are essentially shaking their heads at the wayward nihilism of Johnny and his loyal followers. It's closer to "Reefer Madness" than "Bonnie and Clyde." It's more cautionary tale than free-for-all.

Most everyone knows the most famous line of dialogue from the film: When Johnny is asked what he's rebelling against, he responds "Whaddya got?". But it's not delivered during a defiant staredown against an authority figure in the streets, but a shugged moment of casual flippancy while flirting with some town girls in a bar.

Personally, I think the most telling lines come at the beginning and end of the movie, delivered by older men dismissing Johnny and the BRMC with world-weary contempt. In one of the last scenes, after a small army of deputies have arrived to quell the uprising, the sheriff squints at Johnny and alleges -- accurately -- that he doesn't get his shtick, and what's more, he doesn't think Johnny really understands it himself.

Helpfully, another exchange supplies most of the answers. When the BRMC fails to break up the local motorcycle races -- their criminality only gets as far as stealing a second-place trophy -- a pair of men shake their heads after successfully driving off Johnny & Co.:

Mechanic: "I don't think they even know where they're going. Termites! Nutty! Ten guys like that gives people the idea everybody drives a motorcycle is crazy. What are they trying to prove anyway?"
Cop: "Beats me. Looking for somebody to push them around so they can get sore and show how tough they are. They usually find it someplace, sooner or later."

Note the language in that second line: the bikers aren't looking to push people around, but to annoy others until they themselves get pushed around, just so they can push back twice as hard. They instigate and then go crazy when provoked. That's why Johnny and the BRMC are best described as rebels without a cause, since they're reacting to the order around them with slouch-shouldered chaos.

Speaking of rebels and causes, it's undeniable that "The Wild One" influenced other film icons. Elvis Presley and James Dean copied their long sideburn haircuts from Brando, and Dean reputedly bought a Triumph motorcycle because of the one Johnny drives in the movie (which was actually Brando's own personal motorcycle, according to legend). The look of tight jeans, boots and black leather zippered jacket also became instantly ensconced in pop culture.

Brando is his usual charismatic self, chewing his dialogue and glaring balefully at authority figures. Johnny despises cops because, he says, he once trusted one and it came back to bite him. He takes a shine to local good girl Kathie (Mary Murphy), but dumps her cold upon learning her father is the ineffectual town sheriff (Robert Keith).

Lee Marvin makes one of his notable early career appearances as Chino, the boisterous leader of a rival motorcycle gang called the Beetles. They show up in the same town as the BRMC, and Chino and Johnny promptly have a throw-down over Johnny's stolen racing trophy. Moments later, Chino is laughing and ready to buy him a beer. We learn that two gangs used to be one until Johnny's group splintered.

That trophy is emblematic of the entire film. It means nothing to Johnny -- just a hunk of gold-plated tin one of his boys absconded with -- until someone else tries to lay a claim on it, and then he's ready to spill blood over the trinket. He offers it to Kathie moments after meeting her, and she refuses, thinking he won it legitimately.

The movie ends with Johnny, defeated and humiliated, giving the trophy to her right before riding out of town for good. Of course, he can't just hand it to her nicely, but sets it on the counter of the coffee shop where she works, and pokes it toward her with a finger. It's a result of his burning desire to be different, to disparage and denigrate the societal norms others place value upon.

"The Wild One" is the story of untamed youth with nowhere to go and nothing to fight for, except the fighting itself.