When The Legend Becomes Fact, Print The Legend

THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE (John Ford, USA, 1962, A)

On a level of fundamentals, you might suspect the film is in grave danger--Jimmy Stewart was 54 years old, and John Wayne 55, when they reprised their iconic personas as the young idealist bent on reforming society and the renegade tough guy who prized justice over law, respectively, in VALANCE. It probably doesn't matter all that much for Wayne, since his character's relation to the story as a whole doesn't make being a bit older a huge disadvantage, although he lives an awful long time for a onery drunk with girl troubles (the girl in question is Vera Miles, and in case you asked, she was 33 when she made VALANCE--I guess she was after older men). Stewart's problem seems harder to overcome--Ford's basically asking him to reprise the classic 30's (MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON) and 40's (IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE) man-of-the-people role, but he just doesn't have the bounce anymore to be convincing. I've frankly never enjoyed Stewart's social crusader persona much anyway--it takes a fairly sizable third to his immensely enjoyable socialite (THE PHILADELPHIA STORY) and his darker roles (REAR WINDOW, VERTIGO) because it so easily spills over into self parody. Combine this with all the familiar faces from every Ford moie since STAGECOACH--the illiterate Swedish couple that runs the restaurant, the inept town marshall, the immensely funny and wholly sympathetic drunkards--and it seems more like a tribute than a movie with high aspirations.

And yet VALANCE sure doesn't play out like an old-timers game--try a fight to the death. Like Ransom Stoddard (Stewart), the audience is attending a funeral for something that was broken in its prime and killed off too soon by forces (not necessarily malignant) that couldn't be stopped--not simply Tom Doniphan (Wayne), but an entire way of life, and, perhaps, even Ford's film career itself. The choice of black-and-white film underscores the sense of nostalgia (although nostalgia seems too blithe a word to describe Ford's purpose), as does Ford's timeless style, good humor, seamless editing, and acute sense of dramatic tension and pace. Seeing these old-timers break out the chaps for another go at a Ford film adds to VALANCE's sense of a mythical past that will always be admired but can never truly be reclaimed. Their shared desire to rid the town of Liberty Valance only barely manages to overcome the angst between the naive optimism of Stoddard and the brash pragmatism of Doniphan. Hally's need to choose a lover between the two of them complicates matters, although Stoddard, in his "aw-shucks" munificience, doesn't mean to horn in on Doniphan's gal. Although Stoddard's ideas eventually gain acceptance, Ford leaves little doubt as to how the West was won in practice. It doesn't leave us with simple answers, but lets us marinate in a tragic paradox that we may never be able to solve. There is a real sense of angst in this movie that is missing in other Ford productions, from the advanced intensity of the violence (moreso than in any Ford film, thanks to the loosening production code in an era post-PSYCHO) and the film's bittlerly ironic conclusion (there's no moment like a walk in the sunset to console the defeated Wayne--he is simply cast aside). When I stop thinking about ways Ford could have restructured the movie to get younger men to play Stoddard and Doniphan, I always seem to return to VALANCE's pervading sense of memento mori that cloaks it like a fog, and remember that for all the quibbles, no other Ford film has stirred me quite as much as this one.

And Stewart? Well, he's still a little annoying but not quite as bad as in the other movies I cited.

Alternate soundtrack for the movie: "I Ain't As Good As I Once Was," by Toby Keith.
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PS: if you've been stung by Victor's recent hiatus, are interested in the question of modesty/decency in movies, or both, read Amy Welborn's comments on THE SOPRANOS and the ensuing combox explosion. Some questions for VIctor:

1) Why aren't you using the combox time to write something on the blog, where it will be better appreciated and more intelligently critiqued?

2) The Catechism says the following on pornography:

2354 Pornography consists in removing real or simulated sexual acts from the intimacy of the partners, in order to display them deliberately to third parties. It offends against chastity because it perverts the conjugal act, the intimate giving of spouses to each other. It does grave injury to the dignity of its participants (actors, vendors, the public), since each one becomes an object of base pleasure and illicit profit for others. It immerses all who are involved in the illusion of a fantasy world. It is a grave offense. Civil authorities should prevent the production and distribution of pornographic materials.

Now, to make this concrete, I think most reasonable observers can see the difference between a legitimate movie that contains simulated sex acts (say, DOGVILLE or even certain episodes of THE SOPRANOS), and the shlock they put on Skinemax at 3 in the morning, and I can't see Nicole Kidman being guilty in the same way a porn star is guilty of immodesty. But the Catechism seems to suggest that any time one "removes real or simulated sexual acts from the intimacy of the partners in order to display them deliberately to third parties," porn exists. How do I reconcile my intuition with the Catechism, since it seems your definition of pornography must be in conflict with the Catechism's?

And anyone else is welcome to take a shot at this, too, BTW...