Many posters here have censured the ending of Red River, and it's true that it represents a bit of a compromise and a somewhat absurd contrivance. That said, there are definite reasons behind Hawks' ending, and these ideas need to be conjured with.
First, many Westerns of the forties and fifties, including fellow classics Fort Apache (John Ford, 1948) and The Searchers (Ford, 1956), feature compromised endings of one sort or another. (For example, in The Searchers, Ethan Edwards ultimately refuses to kill Debbie even though that had been his relentless goal for years.) In other words, Hawks was constrained and consigned to the conventions of the time, which guarded against tragic or disillusioned endings, especially in Westerns. High Noon (Fred Zinneman, 1952) served as an exception to the rule, with Gary Cooper's marshal bitterly tossing his badge into the dust at the film's conclusion. Howard Hawks, however, was an ardent traditionalist, and neither he nor John Wayne agreed with the message of High Noon, hence leading them to make Rio Bravo at the end of the 1950s. The point here is that Hawks was limited by the sensibilities of his day, and he subscribed to those same sensibilities. Ultimately, he held an optimistic view of the Old West, and eventually the sun was going to break through the dark clouds in his pictures.
Secondly, as I've already mentioned, Hawks featured strong women in his films, women who stepped into the conflict and proved their worth by acting like men. Sure enough, at the end of Red River, Tess Millay acts with the authority, anger, and directness of a man in breaking up the fight and ordering a reconciliation. She almost acts like a protective sheriff, and in many senses, that's how Hawks viewed his cinematic women, as mobile, strong-minded figures who would step into the fray and keep men out of trouble.
Third, let's remember that Tom Dunson loved Matt Garth as a surrogate son, so threats aside, the idea that the patriarch would really kill his protege was always dubious. Indeed, chances are that Dunson's ferocious machismo may have partly been a front used to conceal a soft spot inside.
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joekiddlouischama
19 years ago
Dru gives a very flat moment of acting, and the ARROW, oh god the ARROW. She could have atleast made the slightest sign of pain or surprise or any emotion when that arrow hit her.
First of all, as I've already noted, Hawks wanted his women to act like men and prove their physical and mental toughness, and the scene with the arrow is a case in point. Tess Millay acts not like a wimpy woman, but rather in the manner of a male hero, taking the arrow in stride rather than complaining and crying.
Secondly, and more importantly, Slokes and I have noted the sexual symbolism of this scene. Essentially, it's played for sex rather than violence, and it's the movie's real sex scene (in symbolic form, of course). Personally, I find the moment when the arrow penetrates Millay's body to be an erotic turn-on of the highest order, and I'll bet that that's what the filmmakers intended. And so again, the scene and Dru's acting need to be viewed in terms of sexual symbolism rather than "realism." Indeed, the "arrow" moment and the moment when Matt Garth stands up to Tom Dunson over the proposed hanging are two of the most memorable epiphanies in the history of American cinema.
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geoffrey-jackson
12 years ago
Very deep analysis but I can't go along with your apparent bias towards this film.
The story was fine and unfolded well. Dunson's ruthless character drew fear and respect. However, the film lost points because of the staged acting, particularly during the scenes with the female actors, and the homosexual undercurrents.
6/10
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joekiddlouischama
11 years ago
the homosexual undercurrents.
To the extent that they exist, I don't know why they constitute a demerit. For instance, they only enhance the idea that Montgomery Clift's character represents a new kind of male that calls the dogma of John Wayne's character and the concept of traditional masculinity into question. For a film made just after World War II,
Red River was at least a decade ahead of its time, maybe twenty or thirty years ahead of its time (in those regards).
I wouldn't say that I'm "biased" toward the film. There are some weaker aspects, especially to contemporary eyes, but overall,
Red River is masterly balanced, elegant, intimate, almost spontaneous in some of its rhythms and moments, and important without trying to be important.
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