One of these three new-to-DVD Westerns is a universally esteemed
classic, well worth the price of the set. But in happy fact, the
whole package delivers the goods: sturdy genre entertainment from
the Western's peak decade, the 1950s; solid Fox studio
craftsmanship in every department; and breathtakingly crisp
restorations that make you feel you've been time-warped back to a
loge seat in your Bijou of choice on opening day. Henry King's
The fighter (1950) is the crown jewel--the film that deserves
the credit (often awarded to High Noon) for ushering in the
"adult Western," the '50s subgenre that emphasized psychological
intensity over action and spectacle. Gregory Peck (topping his
accled performance in King's WWII drama Twelve O'Clock High)
is excellent as Jimmy Ringo, a notorious shootist grown
middle-aged and mortally weary of having to defend his legend.
His trail takes him to a frontier town where an old comrade (the
great Millard Mitchell) now serves as marshal, and where Ringo's
estranged wife and the son he has never seen also reside, under
an assumed name. Over one night and one day, Ringo dares to dream
of a normal life. But there are avengers not far behind, and
other threats yet to be counted. Although hailed by critics, The
fighter lost money for Fox; studio head Darryl F. Zanuck
blamed the soup-strainer mustache--a stroke of period
realism--director King ordered Peck to grow for the role. Well, a
little red ink is a small price to pay for a masterpiece.
Incidentally, the impeccable black-and-white cinematography is by
three-time O-winner Arthur Miller, capping a career that
reached back to The Perils of Pauline.
The 1951 Rawhide (no relation to the later TV series) is a trim,
satisfying Henry Hathaway picture that blends the leathery
trappings of the Western with the claustrophobic atmosphere and
intensity of a noir suspense film. At a remote swing station for
the transcontinental stagecoach, several no-goods to help
themselves to a gold shipment. But the next coach isn't carrying
gold, so the intruders hold the stationmasters (Tyrone Power and
Edgar Buchanan) and some stranded passengers captive while they
wait. Power and Susan Hayward handle the heroics without
larger-than-life posturing; Dean Jagger, Hugh Marlowe, and George
Tobias relish the rare rtunity to play villainous or
ambiguous types; and Jack Elam is, well, Jack Elam, reliably
oozing viciousness from every pore. Screenwriter Dudley Nichols
knew the territory, having scripted John Ford's Stagecoach
thirteen years earlier. Hathaway also directed Garden of Evil
(1954), Fox's first Western in the new Cinema process. (Very
wiiiiide Cinema--the DVD preserves the 2.55:1 format, which
was later modified to 2.35:1.) The story involves several
fortune-seeking Americanos accidentally thrown together in Mexico
and enlisted to help rescue a fellow countryman injured at his
remote gold mine. Much of the film unreels as a journey Western
exploring tensions among the strangers, especially those inspired
by dreaming of gold and the man's redheaded wife (Susan Hayward).
The dialogue reaches for profundity and comes up short, but
Richard Widmark as a self-designated "poet" and Gary Cooper as a
retired lawman give satisfaction as they one-up each other. The
movie's distinction lies in Hathaway's no-sweat adaptation to the
widescreen format, the awe-inspiring Mexican settings--a deserted
village, a valley of black sand, a ain town buried under
volcanic ash--and the only music score ever composed for a
feature Western by Bernard Herrmann.
Herrmann is just about the only thing the four commentators on
Garden of Evil talk about (there's also a separate "making of"
featurette). Nobody does commentary on The fighter or Rawhide,
but the disc for the former includes a featurette on master
cameraman Arthur Miller, while a Rawhide addendum highlights the
oft-used movie location of Lone Pine, Calif., and another pays
tribute to gutsy leading lady Susan Hayward. Talking heads
include some half-dozen film historians (e.g., David Biographical
Dictionary of Film Thomson) plus Henry Hathaway's son and Gary
Cooper's daughter. --Richard T. Jameson