John Ford is there neck-to-neck with Alfred Hitchcock, together the greatest directors of the English language. But I might give the edge to Ford because I'm a sentimental and I can't resist the way Ford emphasizes the story in history, covering through his immense body of work a century-and-half of American conquests and turmoils with the prose of a natural born raconteur and camera's penmanship.
And now that John Wayne became a controversial figure, when the myth of the American frontier is reduced to polarized intellectual crumbs triggering petty sensitivities, it's easy to see Ford as a one-sided old-school director who portrayed the Native in the negative in "Stagecoach" or "The Searchers". And I wish I could see the cavalry trilogy in chronological order and take a few words back from my "Rio Grande" review. Anyway, "Fort Apache" is certainly one of the earliest Westerns to deconstruct the 'savage' myth and offers a balanced view of the Apache tribes under the commandment of Cochise (Miguel Inclan).
And being a masterful military film, it goes even further by showing them as rather well-organized warriors, far from the usual caricatures of Indians going into headlong charges like sitting ducks for average sharpshooters; this time, they're the ones who set the trap and uses Monument Valley like the Vietnamese did for Dien-Bien-Phu with the French in Indochine. I admire John Ford's bravery, maturity, and visual artistry as the film is certainly the master as its peak in the way he's literally painting the battles with great black-and-white contrasts, giving a mythical aura to the whole action.
The film doesn't romanticize the cavalry, it's centered in a remote post in Arizona next to the frontier where a certain laisser-aller is soon to be disrupted by the arrival of Lt. Col. Owen Thursday, a man who acts by the book, a Civil War veteran whose assignment signifies a punishment rather than a promotion. Colonel Thursday, played by a straight-laced Henry Fonda, makes no attempt to be liked but rather to lead the fight the way he intends to, ignoring the advice of those who preceded him, notably the former leader: Capt. Kirby York (John Wayne). This time, it's Duke himself who sides with the Natives, accusing the corrupted Bureau of Indian Affairs for stirring their resentment and you can tell their fates hang on the blind patriotism of Thursday.
There's something so unflappable in his posture that it takes us off-guard, even by John Ford's standards, making the closest to an antagonist in the film. He even plays a pivotal role in the subplot, by preventing his daughter Philadelphia (Shirley Temple) to marry the clean-cut 2nd Lt. Michael Shannon O'Rourke (played by her husband John Agar), the son of the Sgt. Major of the same name, played by the inevitable Ward Bond. There are many "O's" in the army but as an annoyed Thursday points out "too many O'Rourkes". The romance, as predictable as it is, highlights the alienating effect Thursday creates within his entourage and how one man's attachment to the Code can break the codes of chivalry and savoir-vivre.
There's one scene where it's O'Rourke Sr. Himself who reminds Thursday that his conduct is inappropriate. But again to defuse all this uptight tension, Ford knows how to bring a dose of humor, earlier when he solemnly asked Phil to leave the house, not to compromise his young son's career, his own wife orders him to sit down and you can tell she meant business. That's one of Ford's unsung talents, to incorporate the right doses of comedy in his film, and I'll always be grateful when the credits include Victor McLaglen: he plays Quincallon, one of the four sergeants whose slight interest for alcohol inspires quite a hilarious ellipse. Like Hitchcock, Ford had his sense of humor.
And he knew how to make war movies, painting a glorious portrait of the cavalry that has nothing to envy from "Saving Private Ryan". His secret? He shows men first; greenhorns who're taught what a horse is, drunk sergeants, mama's boys but slowly these men grow and once they go into action, the faces disappears, forming troops leaving toward the horizon, the myth is on march. Ford's camera knows how to swift from one scope to another, and in the scene where York talks peace to Cochise and we see Thursday going into a rant against the Apaches, notice how the camera focuses on Cochise's eye-language, he's not shocked by the words but rather the man's foolishness. Ford gives a personal dimension to the fight and something almost suicidal in Thursday's actions.
But at the end, it's history written by the winner, echoing the legendary "if the legend becomes facts, print the legend", a literal massacre inspired from the fall of Custer at Little Big Horn, is 'purified', becoming a heroic charge and poor dead soldiers the posthumous carriers of a myth based on loyalty, courage and friendship. The romance that had so much buildup is cut short and we later see the little O'Rourke and Philadelphia who joined the other women gazing at the horizon while their men are converging toward the sunset. What stays is the tradition, the rituals like all these songs, these dances whose steps are no less rigid than military protocols. They all have a purpose, they give a ground to walk on, values to stand for, and Ford has the same attachment to filmmaking rules: don't tell what can be shown or expressed through music or images, have a good story and then improvise a little, trusting your actors.
And how fresh to see John Wayne playing such a nuanced character. I suspect he might have inspired Eastwood's "Josey Wales", especially when he meets the Chief played by Will Sampson, but I suspect all American directors have seen this film, for whoever you think is the best among Scorsese, Spielberg or Eastwood, well guess what? John Ford was their favorite director. That says something.
And now that John Wayne became a controversial figure, when the myth of the American frontier is reduced to polarized intellectual crumbs triggering petty sensitivities, it's easy to see Ford as a one-sided old-school director who portrayed the Native in the negative in "Stagecoach" or "The Searchers". And I wish I could see the cavalry trilogy in chronological order and take a few words back from my "Rio Grande" review. Anyway, "Fort Apache" is certainly one of the earliest Westerns to deconstruct the 'savage' myth and offers a balanced view of the Apache tribes under the commandment of Cochise (Miguel Inclan).
And being a masterful military film, it goes even further by showing them as rather well-organized warriors, far from the usual caricatures of Indians going into headlong charges like sitting ducks for average sharpshooters; this time, they're the ones who set the trap and uses Monument Valley like the Vietnamese did for Dien-Bien-Phu with the French in Indochine. I admire John Ford's bravery, maturity, and visual artistry as the film is certainly the master as its peak in the way he's literally painting the battles with great black-and-white contrasts, giving a mythical aura to the whole action.
The film doesn't romanticize the cavalry, it's centered in a remote post in Arizona next to the frontier where a certain laisser-aller is soon to be disrupted by the arrival of Lt. Col. Owen Thursday, a man who acts by the book, a Civil War veteran whose assignment signifies a punishment rather than a promotion. Colonel Thursday, played by a straight-laced Henry Fonda, makes no attempt to be liked but rather to lead the fight the way he intends to, ignoring the advice of those who preceded him, notably the former leader: Capt. Kirby York (John Wayne). This time, it's Duke himself who sides with the Natives, accusing the corrupted Bureau of Indian Affairs for stirring their resentment and you can tell their fates hang on the blind patriotism of Thursday.
There's something so unflappable in his posture that it takes us off-guard, even by John Ford's standards, making the closest to an antagonist in the film. He even plays a pivotal role in the subplot, by preventing his daughter Philadelphia (Shirley Temple) to marry the clean-cut 2nd Lt. Michael Shannon O'Rourke (played by her husband John Agar), the son of the Sgt. Major of the same name, played by the inevitable Ward Bond. There are many "O's" in the army but as an annoyed Thursday points out "too many O'Rourkes". The romance, as predictable as it is, highlights the alienating effect Thursday creates within his entourage and how one man's attachment to the Code can break the codes of chivalry and savoir-vivre.
There's one scene where it's O'Rourke Sr. Himself who reminds Thursday that his conduct is inappropriate. But again to defuse all this uptight tension, Ford knows how to bring a dose of humor, earlier when he solemnly asked Phil to leave the house, not to compromise his young son's career, his own wife orders him to sit down and you can tell she meant business. That's one of Ford's unsung talents, to incorporate the right doses of comedy in his film, and I'll always be grateful when the credits include Victor McLaglen: he plays Quincallon, one of the four sergeants whose slight interest for alcohol inspires quite a hilarious ellipse. Like Hitchcock, Ford had his sense of humor.
And he knew how to make war movies, painting a glorious portrait of the cavalry that has nothing to envy from "Saving Private Ryan". His secret? He shows men first; greenhorns who're taught what a horse is, drunk sergeants, mama's boys but slowly these men grow and once they go into action, the faces disappears, forming troops leaving toward the horizon, the myth is on march. Ford's camera knows how to swift from one scope to another, and in the scene where York talks peace to Cochise and we see Thursday going into a rant against the Apaches, notice how the camera focuses on Cochise's eye-language, he's not shocked by the words but rather the man's foolishness. Ford gives a personal dimension to the fight and something almost suicidal in Thursday's actions.
But at the end, it's history written by the winner, echoing the legendary "if the legend becomes facts, print the legend", a literal massacre inspired from the fall of Custer at Little Big Horn, is 'purified', becoming a heroic charge and poor dead soldiers the posthumous carriers of a myth based on loyalty, courage and friendship. The romance that had so much buildup is cut short and we later see the little O'Rourke and Philadelphia who joined the other women gazing at the horizon while their men are converging toward the sunset. What stays is the tradition, the rituals like all these songs, these dances whose steps are no less rigid than military protocols. They all have a purpose, they give a ground to walk on, values to stand for, and Ford has the same attachment to filmmaking rules: don't tell what can be shown or expressed through music or images, have a good story and then improvise a little, trusting your actors.
And how fresh to see John Wayne playing such a nuanced character. I suspect he might have inspired Eastwood's "Josey Wales", especially when he meets the Chief played by Will Sampson, but I suspect all American directors have seen this film, for whoever you think is the best among Scorsese, Spielberg or Eastwood, well guess what? John Ford was their favorite director. That says something.