by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, Red Herring

We left off last time in the silent era, and for our second set of movies we are jumping a decade ahead, to the end of the 1930s. With the advent of sound, the Western became relegated to “B” pictures for most of the late 20s and 30s, and it wasn’t until 1939 that it started to be revived as a serious genre. Part of it was the belief by studios that “talkies” couldn't be shot on location, but ‘39 proved a landmark year for the western genre, and Hollywood as a whole. Errol Flynn, Tyrone Power, and Joel McCrea starred in major studio westerns that year, but two films jump out as they feature two stars and two directors strongly associated with the genre: Stagecoach, with John Wayne by John Ford, and Destry Rides Again, with Jimmy Stewart by George Marshall. Both depict the West as the frontier in the sense of individual new beginnings, as well as the travel of information and reputation. With these films, and with Stagecoach garnering several nominations at that year’s Academy Awards, the western moved from its place in pulpy B-movies of the previous decade and added to it more prestigious “A” pictures in the studio system going forward.

In Stagecoach, which may be the perfect distillation of the genre, we follow a group of travelers from Tonto, Arizona to Lordsburg, New Mexico. Included are Dallas (Claire Trevor), a prostitute newly outlawed in Tonto, an alcoholic doctor (Thomas Mitchell), Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt), a pregnant woman trying to meet up with her calvaryman husband, and a whiskey salesman (Donald Meek). The local Marshal (George Bancroft), joins the stage driver, Buck (Andy Divine), as the normal guard is off looking for the newly escaped Ringo Kid (Wayne). Just as they leave town, they are joined by a Southerner (John Carradine), a crooked banker, Henry Gatewood (Berton Churchill) and the news that Geronimo and other Apaches are rumored to be in the area. Over the course of their journey, the characters are tested by obstacles external and personal. The Civil War is a topic of debate, with Hatfield having served under Lucy’s father for the Confederacy. Even though the West represents something new, it is part of the same history that defines our country. 

To that end, we need to talk about the way that Native Americans are portrayed and how they impacted the production. For much of the film, the Apache are used as an invisible threat, invoking the name of Geronimo as an almost mythic warrior, but characterizing him as a “butcher.” Even when non-antagonistic Native people are shown, as in an early scene where some military officer’s are discussing Geronimo’s whereabouts, they are not portrayed well.. There’s a Cheyenne man who has no voice and is only tasked with remaining perfectly still in the background of the wide shots. He isn’t spoken to by the other men directly but, instead, is used as sort of a prop for their conversation. There is no instance within the text itself where Native people are portrayed in a positive light, and most instances they are distant at best, and mere “savages” at worst. The entirety of Stagecoach is told from a settler perspective. 

Stagecoach was the first of seven productions John Ford would bring to Monument Valley. The Valley is located on Navajo lands, and was brought to Hollywood by Henry Goulding, who owned a small trading post there. He had befriended the Navajo living there, and had gone to California to bring movie money to the remote community in order to try and pull everyone out of the Depression. The Apache in Stagecoach are played by local Navajo–the two tribes are distant cousins based on language. On the one hand, that might be better than being portrayed by white actors, but the portrayal itself is still bad. Ford’s perspective and relationship with Native Americans would grow and evolve, but Stagecoach is not a high point. 

We also need to talk about John Wayne, at least a little bit. I haven’t hit the point in my life where I love his performances, and I’m not sure I ever will. While his ‘everyman’ persona may have been effective to his contemporaries, I often find Wayne stilted. It works best in The Searchers, from what I’ve seen so far, and his work with Ford is probably the most interesting I will ever find The Duke. At least watching Stagecoach helped me understand why he became a star. As the Rango Kid, he’s charming and a bit rough around the edges. Wayne is great at embodying the self-constructed idea of the everyman more than the actual average man. He’s an aspirational figure in some sense, but I guess I just don’t find him worthy of that aspiration. 

By contrast, I can get behind a man like Thomas Jefferson Destry, Jr. As portrayed by Jimmy Stewart in Destry Rides Again, he’s a deputy trying to bring non-lethal conflict resolution to the corrupt town of Bottleneck. He refuses to wear six shooters, despite being an excellent marksman and his father’s reputation for violent law enforcement. Much of the early parts of the film are, like Stagecoach, people reacting to rumors and either overreacting or misunderstanding what they are hearing. While Ford’s film uses that for tension, Destry uses it for comedy and irony. Destry manages to reform the town in a populist revolution that sees the corrupt power holders tossed out by an organized mob (or is that what a posse is?).

Stewart has become one of my favorite actors, especially in westerns, and I was eager to check out Destry Rides Again as it was his first foray into the genre. He wouldn’t return to the West until 1950, with Anthony Mann’s Winchester ‘73 and Delmer Davies’ Broken Arrow, which are both excellent. Here, Stewart embodies the aspirational everyman. He’s improvising, he’s outthinking those in power who would shoot him in the back without hesitation, but he’s not compromising his principles.

The other shining star here is Marlene Dietrich as Frenchy, the singer at the aptly named Last Chance saloon. Dietrich sailed across the Atlantic from the Riviera–arriving just as Hitler was invading Poland–in order to try and rebuild her career after some notable failures. Where she had been known as a temptress, especially in the films of Josef von Sternberg, Destry gave her a chance to change her image. Gone was the glamor of her roles from earlier in the decade, and here was a tough, independent woman, rolling her own cigarettes and taking command of a saloon full of lawless men. Destry revived Dietrich’s career, and made her a marquee star during and after the war.

Destry Rides Again is also the perfect example of making a genre comedy without making it a parody. The comedy is woven into the familiar trappings of the genre while also crystalizing new ones. It’s so successful that it sets the template for Blazing Saddles, a movie that could totally be made today, with Madeline Kahn's performance essentially a show-stopping tribute to Dietrich. Even without that foreknowledge, Destry is funny, engaging, and heartfelt, the kind of movie where the final product is greater than the individual elements. Both Stagecoach and Destry came out in what is often considered the highwater mark of the studio system, 1939, and are examples of just how many great studio films were released that year, helping to cement the western for decades to come.

Join me in March for two postwar westerns: My Darling Clementine and Red River!