**** (out of ****)
Starring John Wayne, Claire Trevor, Andy Devine, John Carradine, and Thomas Mitchell
Directed by John Ford & written by Dudley Nichols and Ben Hecht, from the short story by Ernest Haycox
1939
96 min NR
It’s not fair: why is it that Hollywood movies that present Indians as human beings or at least “positive” stereotypes come across as preachy and heavy-handed, like “Little Big Man” and “Dances with Wolves,” while old fashioned shoot-‘em-up Westerns that present the red men as mindless savages tend to be artistically superior and heedlessly engaging? The Indians in “Stagecoach” serve the exact same function as aliens in science-fiction: something mindless and inhuman that we can blow away with impunity. Yet the movie is such a crackerjack adventure that, even as I was repelled by its racial attitudes, I was pulled along by its straightforward, even mythic portrayal of various personality types facing a common danger.
John Ford may be my heroes’ hero (Welles, Scorsese, Coppola), but I’ve always found him a little stilted and claustrophobic; he shoots the outdoors so it looks like a soundstage. But with “Stagecoach” there is open air and liveliness. As the stagecoach barrels through a sea of angry braves charging on horseback, with the Duke crouched on top with his repeater, I couldn’t stop thinking, “it’s so beautiful!”
Aboard the stage is every type you could possibly want: the drunken doctor, the dancehall floozy with the heart of gold (Claire Trevor), the gunfighter (John Wayne), and the least pregnant-looking pregnant woman in the history of cinema. Together they cross hostile territory and, in the end, the central contradiction of the Western is upheld: the man of violence and the lady of night, who helped forge civilization, are no longer welcome in it. Oscar winner for Thomas Mitchell (of “It’s a Wonderful Life”) as the drunk, I think.
Finished Wednesday, November 16th, 2005
Copyright © 2005 Friday & Saturday Night
** (out of ****)
Featuring the voices of Mel Gibson, Irene Bedard, David Ogden Stiers, Russell Means, and Christian Bale
Directed by Mike Gabriel and Eric Goldberg & written by Carl Binder, Chris Buck, et al.
1995
91 min G
The story of Pocahontas (Irene Berder) rescuing John Smith (Mel Gibson) is crammed into the standard Disney-Eisner paradigm. The result is bland, clean, and unremarkable. A well-meaning PC message is delivered with a sledgehammer, caterwauling bubble gum R&B, and cute animal sidekicks. The romance between Smith and Poca consists largely of their striking noble poses on cliffs and precipices. That her raven mane and his golden mullet are always blown out of their faces, and never in, is a true sign that their bond is blessed by the gods. IMDb credits the movie with 26 writers, but I think writing might mean something different for animated movies.
The sailors and the Indians alike learn a valuable lesson in tolerance, except, of course, the ogre of an English governor (voiced by David Ogden Stiers of TV’s “MASH”). He reinforces the idea that life’s problems are not the work of giant cultural forces but just a few bad apples. The animals, by the way, seem much more interesting than the people, as if the animators agree that the fiddly bits along the edges are more rewarding than the dragging message movie. Still, the movie exploits to good effect the same maroon-orange-purple color scheme of the much livelier “Aladdin.” Also of note is that at least two of the voice actors in “Pocahontas” appear in Malick’s similarly themed “The New World.”
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