Shane: Can a Reformed Gunfighter with a Mysterious Past Find a Role in the "New West"?

Ladd in perhaps his most famous role.

Although Alan Ladd made several Westerns prior to Shane, I initially thought he’d be ill-suited for the role of a reformed gunslinger. Short in stature and with an urban demeanor, Ladd had his biggest success playing contemporary tough guys (e.g., This Gun for Hire). But Ladd proved me wrong, channeling his quiet coolness and low-key charm to create a classic Western hero.

Shane dances with Marion.

That works well since there’s more character study than story in Shane. Van Heflin plays Joe Starrett, a hard-working man trying to make a home for his wife Marion (Jean Arthur) and son Joey (Brandon de Wilde) on the frontier. Starrett and his fellow farmers are embroiled in a dispute over land rights with cattle baron Riker (Emile Meyer). Shane, a stranger passing through, decides to hang around when the Starretts welcome him into their home with generosity.

Joe and Shane cement their friendship.

Shane fills a void in the life of each family member. For Joe, Shane is a “man’s man” willing to work or fight beside him—whether it’s a barroom brawl or the war against Riker. For Marion, Shane is the attentive suitor, who notices the little things that her reliable, but bland husband never does. And for little Joey, Shane is a substitute father who takes time to bond with him—something his busy father has had little time to do.

Shane’s gunfighting past is never in question. When Joey cocks his little rifle, the ever-ready gunslinger spins around to draw his pistol. In a later scene, the two have this brief, but memorable, exchange:

JOEY:  Bet you can shoot.
SHANE: A little bit.

Brandon de Wilde as Joey.

There’s never a doubt as to how Shane will end, but director George Stevens slowly and effectively builds to the climax. His best scenes offer visuals to complement the dialogue. My favorite is Shane’s first dinner at the Starrett farm, a scene in which the dialogue hardly matters. What does matter is what we see: Joe thrilled to have a man to talk with; Marion laying out the good china and an extra fork; and Joey admiring Shane’s guns.

Ironically, Shane shares more in common with Riker than with the Starrett family. Indeed, they may have been friends, or partners perhaps, in the earlier days of the West. However, Shane recognizes that the tough men who tamed the West are no longer in demand. Instead, the frontier now needs men like Starrett that will raise families, build communities, and shape commerce. It's not an uncommon Western theme (and one explored more symbolically in Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West). However, director Stevens conveys it subtly and never strays from the film's strength: its characters and the actors who play them.

Jack Palance as the ruthless Wilson.

Most of the cast is in top form, especially Ladd, Heflin, and Jack Palance as a rival gunfighter so mean that dogs move out of his way. Jean Arthur, not one of my favorite actresses, never convinces me that Marion is the kind of woman who could reform Shane. On the other hand, I found Brandon de Wilde to be exceptionally believable as Joey. But, to offer a counterpoint, little Brandon is one of the reasons that a good friend of mine has never cared for Shane.

Personally, I rank it as one of the great Westerns. It may be too stately at times and, surprisingly, the production values are variable (ranging from scenic snow-covered mountains in the background to hokey stagy sets--though Loyal Griggs won an Oscar for cinematography). But it’s a well-done, entertaining film that has inspired its share of imitators. Some of those semi-remakes are enjoyable in their own right, especially Clint Eastwood’s Pale Rider and Soldier with Kurt Russell.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)

Who runs Washington? How does one become a congressperson, a senator, or the president? These questions were asked in 1939—and are still being asked today. Americans would like to think that idealists like Jefferson Smith (James Stewart) go to Washington to serve the best interests of those they represent.  Yet, in reality, few idealists ever get to Washington, and if they do get there they are quickly disillusioned by the political process.  Most rational Americans today know that the political process has been corrupted, but I’m not quite so sure that people were so aware of what happened in Washington back in 1939—the year this film, like so many other classics, hit the silver screen.
Nominated for eleven Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director [Frank Capra], Best Actor [James Stewart], Best Supporting Actor [Harry Carey and Claude Rains], Best Score, Best Sound Recording, Best Film Editing, Best Interior Direction, Best Screenplay, and Best Original Story [winner Lewis R. Foster]), the film was almost put on the shelf after the outbreak of WWII in Europe.  It would seem that some thought the film presented the shining beacon of democracy as a corrupt cesspool operated by political thugs.  And, really, those people were partly right, but there’s more to the story than that.  Sure, director Frank Capra shows the dirt under the political rug, but he also brightly polishes the true meaning of patriotism and republicanism. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is the simple story of a common man thrown into a complicated situation.  Jefferson Smith is called upon to represent his state (never identified) as a junior senator when his predecessor, Sam Foley, dies.  Needing to fill the position with someone who will be easy to control, Governor "Happy" Hopper (Guy Kibbee) chooses Mr. Smith because he is regarded as a hero and loved for his work with the Boy Rangers (think Boy Scouts)—plus, he has no political experience whatsoever.  As such, he represents, in the words of the governor, “the perfect man, never in politics in his life, wouldn't know what it was all about in two years, let alone two months. And the important thing it means votes. A hero of 50,000 boys, and a hundred thousand parents.” 
Why is it so important that the governor find a “yes” man?  Because he and every political office holder in the state are beholden to political boss Jim Taylor (Eddie Arnold). Taylor has bought up land surrounding a canyon along Willet Creek and wants his political stooges to push through a bill that will provide government funding for a dam—which would allow him to sell the land he’s bought up for a huge profit. Quite simply, it’s the blue ribbon of political pork. Taylor controls everyone, even Senator Joe Paine (Claude Rains), a man some think might be the next president. Indeed, Senator Paine is admired by many, especially by Mr. Smith, whose father was Paine’s best friend. Ah, the dangers of hero-worship.

Capra is quite crafty in how he juxtaposes the backroom dealings of a corrupt political machine with Mr. Smith’s honest reverence for freedom and democracy.  While Taylor, Hopper and Paine are always working the system in closed rooms (they choose who’s allowed in), Mr. Smith revels in the openness of the monuments of Washington (where everyone is welcome).  Even the Senate chamber (expertly recreated by Lionel Banks) is used to show the many faces of the political process. While Smith sits at his desk, once occupied by Daniel Webster, he can see common, everyday people looking on in the gallery. Yet, in this same chamber, you can see senators working the system and attempting to stymie the wheels of truth and justice.

There is an educational bent to the film as well. Mr. Smith’s secretary, Clarissa Saunders (the top-billed Jean Arthur), is supposed to make sure he shows up for roll call and that he votes how the machine wants.  In the beginning, she thinks he’s a big dope and refers to him as Daniel Boone and Don Quixote.  You see, she is the cynical Washington insider who knows how things work, and when some country bumpkin starts spouting off about the virtues of democracy she thinks he’s beyond naïve. She’s also not pleased that he wants to write a bill to start a national boy’s camp.  And, this is where the educational bent comes in.  Trying to dissuade him from his idea she explains the very long and tedious process of what it takes to get a bill passed.  Just her explanation alone is a civic lesson in itself—and perhaps an eye-opener for many audience members.  You must remember, they didn’t have School House Rock and “I’m Just a Bill” in 1939!
Of course, the fact that he wants to build this camp along Willet Creek also creates another problem for Saunders—as she knows about Taylor and Paine’s porked-up plan.  What to do?  Like many secretaries of the 1930s, Saunders is smarter than the boss and so she holds his hand as he first presents the bill and then gives him a crash course in political trench warfare after Paine and the machine discredit and crucify him.  And, this brings us to the famous 23-hour filibuster, where Mr. Smith refuses to yield the floor by reading from the Constitution and various other documents in the hopes that someone, specifically Paine, will clear his good name. Jimmy Stewart always played his righteous characters with just enough instability that they didn’t seem sanctimonious and/or preachy.  You see the complete destruction of his character in these scenes.  At the beginning of the filibuster he seems hopeful and self-assured—surely he will be able to convince the chamber that he is innocent.  But slowly, his strong voice and straight as a rod back start to falter.  His posture droops, his voice cracks, his clothes wrinkle, his hair musses.  What did democracy look like in 1787? Perhaps like Jefferson Smith when he began his filibuster—confident and composed. What does democracy look like in 1939? Like Mr. Smith at the end of his filibuster—defeated and disheveled.  Ah, have heart, there’s more to the story than that, but you need to watch it for yourself to find out. 

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is a political morality tale about living up to the principles of republicanism—government of the people, by the people, for the people.  Who knew a monument could play a supporting role in a film? Everyone, even Lincoln himself, plays their part well. Eddie Arnold is the epitome of the vile political boss who will stop at nothing (not even running children off the road) to get what he wants. Claude Rains takes the part of cynical politician to a whole new level—you either want to slap or hug him.  Jean Arthur is her usual wise-cracking self, playing a Washington-weary woman just waiting for the right man to come along so she can show her heart of gold.  And, James Stewart does naïve as only he can—desperation and despondency never looked so believable. 
Final assessment: we could use more Jefferson Smiths in America today. Oh, and the film is quite good, too.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

I know I am supposed to say Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) is a screwball comedy, but I just can’t do it!  Yes, it has many funny moments in it and the main character is a tad screwy, but I can’t put it in the same category as Bringing Up Baby (1938), The Lady Eve (1941), or The Awful Truth (1937). Plus, being a Frank Capra directed film it has a bit of a dark underside to it—and I don’t mean dark humor. I would actually categorize it as a dramedy, as the first half of the film is mostly comedy and the second half mostly drama (with a few choice comical moments pixielated in).  Whatever you label it, Mr. Deeds is a film anchored by understated, good acting and a strong story about the value of honesty and goodness in a corrupt world. 

A standard theme in Capra films, the idea of the simple everyman exposing the falseness of overindulged city slickers, is a crucial element in this film. Gary Cooper plays Longfellow Deeds, a country gentleman from Mandrake Falls, Vermont, who inherits $20 million from an overindulgent uncle from New York City.  Deeds is a poet who loves nature and plays the tuba, and is often mistaken for a country yokel because of his naiveté and plainspoken ways.  He looks like an easy mark to one of his uncle’s shady lawyers, Mr. Cedar (Douglas Dumbrille), but Deeds knows (and says) that working for nothing isn’t natural and so he instantly doesn’t trust Cedar.  Transplanted to New York City, Deeds finds himself surrounded by many people he doesn’t trust—or worse, who think they are better than him because they are cosmopolitan.  His best friends turn out to be his valet, Walter (Raymond Walburn), and his fixer, Corny Cobb (Lionel Stander)—both of which happen to be working class stiffs.

An idealist in every sense, Deeds finds himself instantly attracted to a woman who faints outside his mansion one rainy night. Thinking he has rescued a damsel in distress, Deeds believes he has found his dream woman in stenographer Mary Dawson (Jean Arthur).  What he doesn’t know is Mary isn’t a stenographer, but a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter for The Morning Mail named Babe Bennett.  She labels him the Cinderella Man and opens him up to the ridicule of the entire city.  Eventually Babe falls in love with her “assignment” and starts to regret what she has done, but before she can come clean with Deeds the truth comes out.  At this point the film’s mood totally changes, and I don’t know that I agree with how abrupt the shift is.

If you have seen the film then you remember the gun-wielding, displaced farmer (John Wray), who convinces Deeds he should give away his $20 million to those who need it.  Up until this point there hasn’t been any meaningful reference to the Depression or the downtrodden (except for the fainting Mary). So, when a man bursts into Deed’s mansion and aims a gun at him and goes off on a tirade about feeding doughnuts to horses and having lavish parties, it is completely jarring.  Yes, I know it was a plot device to move the story along to the whole insanity hearing part of the film, but I think some earlier ground-laying of this theme would have been useful.  If I have one nit-pick with the movie it is this…oh, and that hideous Robin Hood feather in her cap hat that Arthur wears in one scene—Samuel Lange, you had a short career for a reason!

Both Cooper and Arthur give understated performances in Mr. Deeds. Cooper (nominated for a Best Actor Oscar) always played the geez, smarter than you think country bumpkin well, and his Deeds is no exception.  His slack-jawed line delivery and easy-going physical mannerisms play well for Deed’s personality.  Some might say that Cooper lacked acting range, but they would also have to admit that he owned his own style and it worked (none better than in his role as Clint Maroon in Saratoga Trunk [1945]). Arthur, for her part, is not, as she is often described, the “quintessential comedic leading lady.” She’s not that funny in this film because this isn’t a screwball comedy!  As a matter of fact, besides a few good one liners and a couple of comical sideway looks, her role mostly consists of her being depressed by her bad behavior or being anxious over the possibility of Deeds being institutionalized.  Am I the only one who notices this?  Still, I always like Arthur—she is just so likable, even when she’s playing a liar.

Overall, Mr. Deed Goes to Town is an enjoyable dramedy.  Nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, this is a typical Frank Capra Depression-Era vehicle. I don’t subscribe to the school of film critics who refer to this period of his work as Capra-corn. Instead, like many others, I believe people went to films like Mr. Deeds because they were inspirational and uplifting.  In the end, that is exactly what this movie turns out to be.