Westerns are my jam

Fig. 1 The Duke is my bae

I recently made a confession to my dad.

"I am totally in love with westerns."

*Dad snorts and laughs* "Sorry, that's just not what I expected from you at all."

Yes, this may come as a shock to those who think they know me well. Probably since I am an East-Coast college-educated liberal arts type whose admiration/tolerance level for country music is "general loathing" and whose experience with farm animals was relegated to four years of agriculture class in high school. I hate guns and hyper-masculine attitudes and camo-print anything. I want to die every time anyone quotes Duck Dynasty.

But I love bluegrass (which was country music before there was even a country) and I grew up in the South, so I'm not completely adverse to down-home wholesome hard-working culture. I'm not outdoorsy per se, but I definitely have a healthy love for plants, animals, and beautiful landscapes.

These things are not even a semi-decent reason or explanation for why the Western still managed to sneak into my soul and seat itself there as a mild obsession. This genre of film--and similar literature--is almost completely divorced from the modern sense of "country-western" culture anyway. When Dean Martin crooned for his companions in "Rio Bravo" 1959 he was singing about sunsets, canyons, prairie birds, and his favorite pony, not trailer trash, jukeboxes and "shaking it off." Fuck that shit.

I'm all about John Wayne. Can't get enough of him these days. I know, I know he's exactly the hyper-masculine poster boy I'm supposed to resent as a modern feminist. He's all guns and grit and goddamned whisky. But you know what? He's not a redneck. He's not a hipster. He's not a fake. His characters are genuine and honest about their nature, and they don't bullshit. He gets off his horse and drinks his milk, damnit. He gets shit done and he does it with dignity and a touch of humanizing humor.

Gregory Peck doesn't look half bad in chaps either.

Fig. 2 The coolest Greg there ever was

I suppose this all started with a viewing of "Red River"1948 in my narrative film class in college. It's a perfect specimen of the genre. Howard Hawks directs John Wayne and Monty Clift in an epic tale of a cattle drive out of Texas. Wayne is his usual determined and efficient self, and Monty's tight trousers-covered bum is easy on the eyes. It chronicled a world very well-removd from my own, which made it inherently interesting at the time.

Fig. 3 The boys get rough on the range

I must've seen a small handful of Westerns over the next ten years. It was only recently that I came to realize that each rare occasion was a very fun and enjoyable one. The Coen Bros' "No Country For Old Men" 2007 , while not a pure example of the genre, certainly had enough of a Western flavor. It definitely turned me on to those wide-open untouched landscapes and hard-assed characters. Ultimately, it was that masterpiece of a remake "True Grit" 2010 that catalyzed my newfound infatuation. Re-visiting the original (starring John Wayne!) did me in forever.

Fig. 4-5 Rooster Cogburn brings new meaning to multitasking

Now I'm reading Lonesome Dove on my kindle and lamenting the fact that there aren't enough Westerns on Netflix. I'm never going to redecorate my house with thousands of square feet of stained wood paneling and mounted cattle horns (UGH my sense of aesthetics is aching), but I'm content with it gracing my big screen.

The secret to all of these films' appeal? That quintessential requirement of Westerns: the driving theme of man v. nature v. the nature of man. When my husband commented on my sudden addiction to Westerns, he summed it up as well I could have. He said that what typifies the Western is that man is pitted against the vast, untamed wilderness, which always serves to reveal man's true nature in the absence of society--the open range as anvil on which the metal of a man is forged and tested. It's just as easy to return to a one-horse town with more honor as it is to ramble in with far less. It's the gut-wrenching drama leading up to the revelation that keeps me watching. That and John Wayne's colorful kerchiefs.

P.S. I named my latest Catesetum John Wayne. He is just starting to bloom these oxblood-red flowers of awesomeness. I'll keep you posted.

Fig. 6 Just one more nice photo of Monty for you. You're welcome.

Reap the Wild Wind 1942

I dare anyone to just look at this poster and NOT want to see this movie immediately. DeMille. John Wayne. Steampunk diving gear. Giant squid. There is nothing wrong with this combination. And I love a good old seafaring movie as much as I love a good old western. They're basically westerns on water, anyways.

I discovered the existence of "Reap the Wild Wind" (1942) by descending into one of the only below ground cellars in all of Key West. It was damp and smelled of the sea, and there was an impressive display of memorabilia behind glass. It showcased this epic piece of crowd pleasing cinema about my beloved Conch Republic's wild and surprising history.

It's set in the 1840's, when Key West was the hub of a maddeningly successful ship salvage industry in the caribbean. I squeed when that Ten Commandments voice started epically explaining the premise. Paulette Goddard plays Loxi, who runs a salvage business started by her father. She appears to be doing well, if her Gone With The Wind-style classic Victorian manse and mounds of petticoated skirts are any indication. But as soon as someone calls "WRECK ASHORE!" she literally jumps out of her frock and into galoshes, ready to sail. This opening sequence alone was enough to make me love her.

From what I remember of what I learned at the Shipwreck Museum, merchant ships wrecked against the shallow coral reefs just south of the Keys all the damn time. Wrecker crews were obliged to rescue the people on the ships first, but then the owner of the salvage ship who got to the wrecked ship first was entitled to half the salvage auction's proceeds. People came from far and wide to bid at top prices for tons of valuables: ivory, textiles, silks, gold, tobacco, and all kinds of luxury goods like musical instruments, jewelry, furniture, etc. 

You didn't even need a hurricane for this to happen often enough that several families on the island had a decent chance to make a sweet living. Key West, for a time, was the richest city in America per capita. Obviously, some people "arranged" shipwrecks by either cutting deals with ship captains to run aground or by simply sticking a lamp on the back of a mule to trick navigators into thinking it was a lighthouse, and therefore leading them into dangerous waters. The Key West wreckers were often suspected of such pirating behavior and often went to trial to determine if their salvage operation was on the level.

So we join Loxi when she misses an opportunity to be the wreck master of the latest wreck. The ship that does get there first gets there a little *too* fast, and people suspect they planned the wreck with the captain. Instead, she salvages something more exciting: a half-drowned Captain Jack (John Wayne). After she nurses him back to health in her own bedroom (a lady's bedroom, oh my!) she falls for him (and who wouldn't!). When she must go visit her cousin in Charleston, she is at first unenthused, but gets chuffed as soon as she finds out that Jack is sailing there as well to face his ship's owner.

Upon arriving in Charleston, she tries to convince Steve (Ray Milland)--who runs the shipping company Jack works for--to give Jack another chance. Steve has a thing for Loxi, of course, and gets Jack the job on the lush steamer the Southern Cross. Noticing that Steve is only doing this to please Loxi, Jack makes a deal with a rival Key West wrecker to purposely wreck the Southern Cross so they can share in the salvage profits. Steve takes Loxi's ship out to stop him, but because Loxi doesn't believe the rumors about Jack's shady plan, she sabotages her own ship to stop Steve from  accosting Jack. The Southern Cross wrecks on the reef, and a trial is held to investigate the matter. 

During the trial, information is revealed that leads everyone to believe Loxi's cousin may have stowed away on the Southern Cross and had died during the wreck. The trial is moved to the site of the wreck (OMG What the very fuck let's all just move the entire courtroom population to the deck of a ship during a storm like it ain't no thing). Jack and Steve both don awesome old school diving suits to descend into the Southern Cross' watery hold and find evidence of what may have happened. Just as Steve finds a telltale shawl, a gigantic orange squid sneaks in and starts attacking them. 

Now this ain't no B-roll Ed Wood squid folks. This is a Technicolor Cecil B. DeMille masterpiece of a puppet with tentacles that have a mind of their own. This squid even notices that the diving men need the ladder to escape the underwater ship and the clever beast manages to yank it out from under them. Like, how the earthly hell does a giant squid known how ladders work for humans? Doesn't matter, because John Wayne stabs the bastard to rescue Steve, who manages to escape to the surface before the raging sea causes the ship to tip off the reef into deep water, drowning poor Jack. Yes, you read that right. John Wayne stabs a giant squid. You ain't never lived till you've seen John Wayne wrestle a squid. Underwater. In a steampunk diving suit.

AMAZEBALLS.

Loxi ends up with Steve in the end, probably due to some dumb Hays Code rule that the man with the dark side must get his comeuppance by the end. Damn you, Hays Code! John Wayne steps off a horse this once and he gets drowned by a hideous sea monster. Go figure. 

Still, I TOTALLY LOVED THIS FILM. Paulette Goddard is spunky and full of chutzpah, John Wayne is super youthful and cool, and hey, GIANT SQUID ATTACK. Can't go wrong.

How the West Was Won (1963)

Full disclosure: I love westerns. I have only realized this love in the last few years, so I'm not as versed in them as I'd like to be, but darn it, an evening spent with John Wayne is an evening well spent. More disclosure: I love John Wayne. I mean, come on. He's John Wayne. Whenever he's onscreen, I feel safe. He's going to get me through any trouble that may ensue.

So let me just gush about this film. I completely, accidentally stumbled upon "How The West Was Won" 1963 the other day and oh boy, was I thrilled! Here is one of only TWO narrative films in history made with the "Cinerama" process (the other being "The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grim" 1962) which had one camera with three strips of film, resulting in an epic surround-scene panoramic view. And if you saw it in a theatre, it would have to be outfitted with a special projection screen that's actually dozens of vertical strips of screen all angled toward the audience to reduce glare and reflection from the curved viewing space. What the very F.

Anyway, this proved an incredibly difficult process, both during filming and during screenings for audiences. There was some kind of widescreen format war going on in the 50s and 60s when the production companies were trying out new ways to draw audiences out of their comfortable easy chairs in front of their shiny new TV sets to see EPIC EVENT MOTION PICTURES. The ultra-wide formats that won out were cameras that used only one film strip with a larger aspect ratio. The 1959 version of "Ben Hur" for example, used 70mm film, as opposed to the standard 35mm film, like in any Marvel superhero movie you see these days. My absolute favorite, "Lawrence of Arabia" 1962 was also in 70mm, as was "The Sound of Music" 1965.

It is more costly to film and project with 70mm, but it is of very high resolution and quality. Home VHS and DVD formats could never dream of offering the true original resolution of these films, but if you picked up a Blu-Ray of "Lawrence of Arabia" and watched it on a nice big TV, you could pretty much expect to see the quality 70mm carries. It's very rarely used now, especially since the advent of digital projection systems. When Sir Ken Branagh's "Hamlet" 1996 was filmed in 70mm, that was only the third time 70mm was used since 1970, and it's only been used four times since "Hamlet." For reals.

Back to THE WEST. This film is essentially five stories told between the 1830s to the 1880s about a single extended family and how they managed to survive one of the most exciting and tumultuous eras of American history. It really has to be seen to be believed, as it is far too complex and beautiful a film to miss. Even on the flatscreen of your TV, you ain't never seen anything like it before, I swear. Just look at it. There's so much real estate on that frame. It's ridiculous.

So, to suck you in, I'll just give you some tidbits. Like, why does Jimmy Stewart have a terrible mullet haircut?

But look! Gregory Peck (GREGORY PECK!) is made of sex!

And fricken Russ "Riff" Tamblyn is a fricken Confederate deserter!

Princess Leia's mom is in fluffy knickers!

Henry Fonda in fringe! Woohoo!

You haven't seen such gripping Civil War footage since that Ken Burns documentary that you watched in middle school that was longer than the war itself! (Ok, sarcasm, but really, as much as I learned to love Ken Burns in my adult life, this is way more fun to see)

Finally, John Wayne is General William Tecumseh Sherman! 

OMG look at all that! Why aren't you finding this on Netflix or something right now?! 

You are wrong NOT to see this.