Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: John Ford
John Ford's most famous acting collaborator might be John Wayne,
but by the time that iconic partnership was formed, Ford had made dozens
of movies headlined by cowboy star Harry Carey. Many of these
films saw Carey inhabit the recurring role of Cheyenne Harry, a drifter
who would inevitably find himself forced to draw his gun despite seeking
a quiet life and an honest day's work. Unlike the other two great silent
era western stars, Tom Mix and William S. Hart, who both embodied the
traditional boy's own image of a cowboy hero, Carey was somewhat ahead
of his time. With his imperfect posture and vulnerability, Carey was
something of a forerunner of the method actors that would emerge decades
later.
Two of Ford's Cheyenne Harry collaborations with Carey – 1917's
Straight Shooting and 1918's Hell Bent –
have been lovingly restored in 4K for a UK blu-ray release from Eureka
Entertainment.
Ford and Carey had collaborated on a handful of two and three reelers
by the time of
Straight Shooting (***), the then Jack Ford's feature debut. Very much in the shadow of his
older brother, filmmaker and star Francis, Ford does plenty with a
narratively unimaginative tale to mark him out as a future giant of
American filmmaking.
The story here is as generic as the western genre could possibly
provide, though perhaps not so much back in 1917. Here, Carey's Cheyenne
Harry is a gunfighter with a bounty of $1000 on his head. His
gunslinging skills are in much demand however, and he finds himself
hired while inebriated by Thunder Flint (Duke Lee), an
unscrupulous cattleman who wants rid of the settler family whose
homestead is getting in the way of the expansion of his ranch.
When Harry sobers up the following day he realises he's made a deal
with the devil, and one of the settlers' sons has been gunned down while
fetching water from a nearby stream. As Harry explains, he might be a
no-good killer, but murdering unarmed women and teenagers is something
he's unwilling to stoop to, and so he teams up with the settlers to
fight off Fremont and his hired hands.
From as early as his first feature, you can see the establishment of
the visual trademarks of Ford's career. Few filmmakers can fill a deep
frame quite like Ford, and we get some beautiful examples of this,
particularly an incredible opening shot in which cowboys on a hill in
the foreground are framed against the backdrop of a mass herd of cattle
in the valley below. This image immediately lends a sense of scope to
what is otherwise an intimate, low budget picture.
We see the famous use of props by Ford's actors, with cowboys squeezing
their hats in moments of discomfort, and enraptured women clinging on to
door handles as they await the return of the men they secretly love. We
see our hero pause before walking into a space that will change his
destiny. We see lovingly composed shots that pull indoor and outdoor
spaces together. We see Ford inventing his own cinematic grammar before
our eyes.
1918's Hell Bent (**½) features less of Ford's trademarks, though it does open with a
striking effect. We're drawn into the story via a prologue in which
author Fred Worth receives a letter from his publisher claiming the
public has grown tired of morally uncomplicated heroes. "We would like
it if the hero in your next story were a more ordinary man, as bad as
he is good," reads the note. Seeking inspiration, Worth gazes at a
painting on his wall – 'A Misdeal' by Frederic Remington, an artist
whose work in American periodicals defined the image of the west
before the likes of Ford set about mythologising the era on screen.
The painting depicts the aftermath of a gunfight in a saloon, with a
lone survivor slumped over a table collecting his winnings. We fade
from the painting into a live recreation of its scene, with none other
than Cheyenne Harry in the role of the sole survivor.
What follows (with roughly 20 minutes of missing footage) is a rather
lackluster tale in which Harry falls for Bess (Neva Gerber), a
young woman who has been forced to perform as a showgirl in a saloon by
her no-good brother Jack (Vester Pegg). This brings him into
conflict with outlaw Beau Ross (Joe Harris), leading to a climax
in which the two men are caught in a deadly sandstorm.
Amid the blandness, there is one notably Fordian moment in which the
uncouth Harry is invited for tea by Bess. It's clearly his first time
drinking from anything other than a flask or bottle, as he struggles to
commandeer the dainty teacup he's provided. Was Kevin Costner thinking
of this moment when he included a similar scene in his own western
Open Range?
In Carey's Cheyenne Harry we see a precursor to Henry Fonda's Wyatt
Earp and John Wayne's Ethan Edwards, a man whose tough exterior and
reputation are belied by a curious awkwardness that suggests discomfort
around good people, perhaps because they make him question his choice to
live by the gun. Carey may have stood out at the time, but he now looks
like the definitive screen cowboy in his grubby shirt and jeans, his
pistol held not by a holster but by his belt. This lack of a holster
might suggest Cheyenne Harry's refusal to commit to a life of
gunslinging, but as the enduring series proved, it was in his
blood.
Extras:
Newly composed scores by Michael Gatt and Zachary Marsh; feature
commentaries by film historian Joseph McBride; a new interview with film
critic and author Kim Newman; two video essays by Tag Gallagher;
archival audio interview from 1970 with John Ford by Joseph McBride; a
short fragment of the lost film Hitchin’ Posts (dir. John Ford, 1920)
preserved by the Library of Congress.
