SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON: Blu-ray (RKO/Argossy 1949) Warner Archive
“As a director and a spectator, I like simple, direct,
frank films. Nothing disgusts me more than snobbism, mannerism, technical
gratuity... and, most of all, intellectualism.”
-
John Ford
John Ford’s
eulogizing of the great American frontier arguably reached its bittersweet
epoch in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon
(1949), the second movie in his so-called ‘cavalry trilogy’. While a good many
westerns of its ilk and generation are prone to a chronic sort of rustic
romanticism; the glint of early morning dawn endlessly preserved for posterity as
it creeps along the mesas and towering buttresses of Monument Valley, these
sparse landscapes, dirt-road towns and military outposts, populated by hearty
rustlers, ill-mannered desperadoes, stoic, heroic and manly figures, exemplifying
various notions of the law; and women – either plainly virtuous or rhapsodized
as flashy prostitutes with their proverbial hearts of gold worn on the spangled
sleeves of their favorite party dress – Ford’s western milieu generally forwent
such obvious trappings to tell more heartfelt stories matted against an
introspective, though no less epic backdrop. Unequivocally, Ford’s passion for
the American west is singularly responsible for giving us its legends and
folklore. In his own time the world knew of no finer advocate than John Ford,
devoted to this mythologized frontier experience. In some ways, She Wore A Yellow Ribbon typifies
Ford’s own impassioned disconnect with that ‘ancient’ flower (barely forty
years separates the actual frontier
from Ford’s iconographic vision of it). And Ford, ever a renaissance man,
cannot help but view the west through rose-colored spectacles for that time
when it was largely untouched by the hand of man – decidedly open to the
promise of better things to come. Were that Ford could have lived it for
himself as a young man he might have become as indelible a touchstone as Wild
Bill Hickok or Wyatt Earp. Even as he came to the west ‘second best’, Ford has long since proven
irreplaceable among these legendary figures, unabashedly the sentimentalist,
though with a manifest loathing for rank sentimentality.
“You can speak well if your tongue can deliver the
message of your heart,” Ford once fondly intimated, a rather interesting
reflection, considering how well-guarded Ford kept his own. Few, even of his
stock company costars, ever saw that softer side Ford fought like hell to keep
secret from the rest of the world. As
such, it is one of Hollywood’s ironies the reality of John Ford does not
perfectly align with his reputation as a film-maker. Indeed, while his movies
tend to be innermost snapshots devoted to the emotional content of his
characters, the content of his own veered wildly between exacting precision and
a sort of maniacal gruffness, teetering on the brink of abject cruelty. Ford’s favorite
punching bag was John Wayne. And it is saying a great deal of both men that
despite Ford’s envy for Wayne, these two titans – mythologized in their own
right – came to regard each other with mutual respect as equals. To be sure,
Ford could appreciate no star quite so much as ‘Duke’ Wayne; and Wayne scarcely
admired another director as accomplished as Ford. If, as Wayne once suggested, “all battles are fought by scared men who’d
rather be someplace else,” then in their own symbiotic union, neither Wayne
nor Ford could believe in an alternative that would be more mutually beneficial.
Perhaps the perversity in Ford’s outward belligerence towards Wayne was the
sparkplug in their artistic synergy. Who can say for certain why any
relationship works or is doomed to fail. But there is little doubt Wayne and
Ford were a match made, if not in heaven, then some such place where the green
lilacs plentifully grow; of the land and imbued with that intangibly genuine
and stout-hearted masculine verve.
Loosely based
on a pair of short stories – The Big Hunt and War
Party – both by James Warner Bellah, She Wore A Yellow Ribbon is undeniably John Ford’s most clear-eyed
and understated stirring tribute to the United States Cavalry; and yet, equally
a sort of forlorn farewell to its pride and passion. John Wayne, herein cast as
a withering representation of his former manhood, as Capt. Nathan Cutting
Brittles, is greatly esteemed by his men, particularly Top Sgt. Quincannon (the
unimpeachably lovable Victor McLaglen); Wayne, convincingly aged from his
relatively youthful 42 years to a weather-beaten 65; proving his considerable
acting chops with an acquired forthright, gentle-manly grace, wisdom, sincerity
and the strength of his stubborn convictions. From the late 1970’s on, there
came a tradition to discredit John Wayne’s screen popularity as something of a
bad cliché of the butch and decidedly out-of-touch dinosaur. Loosely, his
acting was regarded by his pundits as merely a variation of his playing
himself; Wayne, when famously asked by one such critic to comment on his ‘motivation’
in a scene, somewhat tersely replying, “….to
say my lines and not bump into any furniture on the way out.”
Yet,
throughout his enviable career as Hollywood’s reining he-man, the Duke could be
counted upon to offer up subtle nuances, oft overlooked by the critics, but
palpable to anyone with eyes, and, as contemplative and solipsistic as anything
put forth by an Olivier or Gielgud. Ideologically, Wayne typifies a certain
breed of leading man virtually vanquished from the movies long since; the
unapologetically virile man of action, charging headstrong into battle,
dictated to by none, and driven by primal urges to love, hunt, defend and
conquer (not necessarily in this order); a real man’s man, made attractive to
women by his principled integrity. In another life, John Ford might have
ventured into such daring does of self-discovery himself. And in Wayne’s Nathan Brittles we not only see
this sort of rugged individualism Ford sought to emulate, but also the kind of
furrowed class, later to canonize Wayne’s iconography as a monument to
veracity. Brittles is something of a chivalrous warhorse, but as only Ford
could have imagined; Wayne willing his broad-shouldered/rough-hewn physicality
into a sort of rear-guard heroism on the wane.
She Wore A Yellow Ribbon gets criticized
for its lack of story; considered one of Ford’s less substantive slices of
Americana, perhaps in large part because Winton C. Hoch’s superlative
Technicolor cinematography seems to take over and, on occasion, eclipse the
performances being given. Without question, She Wore A Yellow Ribbon is one of the most resplendently startling
westerns of all time, its fiery sunsets, starkly sun-baked early dawn patrols
across the barren red-earthed landscape, and moodily lit night scenes with a
perpetual low bank of clouds lazily slicing off the tops of these towering
stone monuments, adding pictorial girth to an otherwise gentle and
unprepossessing lover’s triangle. In
point of fact, one cannot entirely dismiss the somewhat episodic nature of Frank
Nugent and Laurence Stallings’ screenplay; the vignettes, including brushes
with a Cheyenne dog-party on the prowl, a hellacious deluge on the great plains,
epic buffalo stampede, and, emergency surgery performed on a wounded man, built
around a burgeoning conflict of intimacies, involving determined Olivia
Dandridge (Joanne Dru) and a pair of shave tails; Lt. Flint Cohill (John Agar)
and Second Lt. Ross Pennell (Harry Carey Jr.). Cohill is the amiable of the
pair, sheathing this affable good nature under a cloak of moderate jealousy,
especially when Dandridge gives every indication she might favor his
competition instead. After all, Pennell comes from privilege (that’s right,
honey – you marry for love). But Cohill has rank on his side and occasionally
manipulates the chain of command to ensure he remains front and center as the
candidate of choice in this moderately caustic romance.
The plot, such
as it is, begins in 1876, following the death of Gen. Armstrong Custer at the
battle of Little Big Horn. The Cavalry, led by Capt. Nathan Brittles, address a
beleaguered stagecoach, lumbering into Fort Stark after suffering an attack by
the Cheyenne; robbed of its payroll, its driver, killed. Capt. Nathan Brittles
is understandably concerned for the safety of his fort, recognizing that the
Cheyenne rarely venture so far south. Acknowledging the attack as a prelude to
war, Nathan’s concerns continue to mount. In just six days, he is being forced
out of the army after a long and illustrious career. Brittles perennially – if slightly
– inebriated arbitrator of good sense, Top Sgt. Quincannon is perhaps the first to realize
what retirement truly means for Brittles – a man soon to be marked without a
purpose. For more than forty years, the army has been Brittles’ whole life. Sacrifices made during this passage of time
have decidedly taken their toll on Brittles. He ventures to nearby familial
headstones where he consults with his deceased wife, Mary, on what the future
may hold for a solitary soldier, perhaps with a little wistful longing for the
hour he will rejoin her in heaven. His quiet ruminations are witnessed by
Olivia Dandridge; a compassionate and mature young woman who has a great
affinity for Brittles as a sort of father-figure. Dandridge wears the yellow
ribbon in her hair; a symbol of her status as an eligible maiden in search of a
beau; her ambitions for a husband presided over with benevolent encouragement
from her Aunt Abby Allshard (Mildred Natwick) and Uncle, Maj. Mac Allshard
(George O’Brien).
Fearing a
Cheyenne revolt, the Major orders Brittles to escort his wife and niece from
Fort Stark under the protection of an Indian patrol to Sudros Wells where they
will catch a stagecoach back East. Brittles is incensed, believing the military
escort puts not only Abby and Olivia’s lives in grave danger, but also those of
his men, whose energies are thus divided, making them even more susceptible to
an attack. After registering his formal protest, Brittles begrudgingly leads
the patrol into the wilderness. Taking notice of the yellow ribbon woven into
Dandridge’s hair, Cohill and Pennell each ponder whether he is the object of
her affections. Playing her chances right down the middle, Dandridge has given
neither definitive proof of her heart’s truest desire; previously endeavoring
to venture on a picnic with Pennell, only to have this outing thwarted by
Cohill, who manipulates direct orders to deny the couple their time alone
together.
Soon thereafter,
Brittles learns from his scout, Sgt. Tyree (Ben Johnson) of two solitary white
men riding to Sudros Wells. Tyree later confirms a large contingent of Arapaho is
also traveling in the same direction. Concerned for Abby and Olivia’s safety,
Nathan orders his patrol to take a slightly longer route into town, fully aware
its detour may cause them to miss the stagecoach. Along this new route, the
patrol encounters a large herd of grazing buffalo. Tyree and Brittles concur
that an inter-tribal council meeting is likely planned in secret; attended by
Indian agent, Karl Rynders (Harry Wood) and his interpreter, selling guns to
Chief Red Shirt (Noble Johnson), an enterprising and blood-thirsty Arapaho,
determined to make war against the settlers and the army. Astutely reasoning
Sudros Wells is likely the focus of such an attack, Brittles orders Tyree to
hurry ahead to Paradise River and return with the unit he commands to Sudros
Wells. Alas, before Tyree can reach his destination his unit is attacked, the
Indian assault diffused by Brittle’s quick intervention. As storm clouds break
across these desolate plains, Tyree move his patrol out. Wounded in the
previous skirmish, Corp. Mike Quayne (Tom Tyler) is operated on by Dr.
O'Laughlin (Arthur Shields).
Brittles and
his entourage reach Sudros Wells too late, the outpost decimated in a bloody
coup, forcing Brittles and his regiment to retreat to Fort Stark. Later in the
evening, Cohill, Brittles and Tyree spy on a war council meeting. Rynders
naturally assumes he has the upper hand, bartering with Red Shirt to secure a
higher price for the weaponry he has brought along. But Rynders has overestimated
his trading relationship with the Indians. Red Shirt orders one of his men to
brutally slaughter Rynders and his interpreter; the gruesome spearing, before
being repeatedly dragged through a raging campfire, witnessed by Brittles with
dispassionate satisfaction. It is now of the utmost importance Brittles return
the ladies to Fort Stark post haste. He orders Cohill to remain behind with
three squadrons to flank their crossing. Realizing she may never see him again,
Dandridge embraces Cohill with a kiss, signaling once and for all her clear
decision to accept him as her beloved.
Declaring their
mission a lost cause, Brittles nevertheless ensures everyone’s safe return to
Fort Stark. He is forced to accept his retirement by Maj. Allshard, but elects
to help Cohill prove his mettle by rejoining his forces at Paradise River.
Determined he should return to Dandridge in one piece, Brittles orders Cohill
to stand down while he and Tyree venture ahead to negotiate a truce with the
Indians. Although elder Chief Pony That Walks (Chief John Big Tree) offers
Brittles and Cohill a warm reception, nothing they say is able to dissuade him
from making war. Eager to avoid further bloodshed, Brittles orchestrates a
midnight raid on the Indian camp, successfully scattering their horses and thus
forcing the Indians to return to their reservation on foot; humiliated, but
otherwise unharmed. Realizing his regimental tenure is at an end, Brittles prepares
to depart. Of late, his thoughts have been leaning to the promise of a fresh
start in California. As both fate and good fortune would have it, Tyree arrives
in the nick of time with a letter from the War Department. Brittles has been
promoted to the exalted rank of Lieutenant Colonel Chief of Scouts. Accepting
this post with great humility, Brittles and his men return to Fort Stark where
he admits the hearty congratulations of his fellow cavalrymen. Blessing
Dandridge’s decision to marry Cohill, Brittles prematurely leaves the gathering
to share his good fortunes with Mary.
Despite some
very finely wrought performances, She
Wore A Yellow Ribbon doesn’t hold its own as well as some other John Ford
westerns. Perhaps, something to do with its title – an erroneous misdirection,
as the proverbial yellow ribbon, presumably worn by eligible maidens for their
lovers sent off to war, is only touched upon, though never given weight within
this story; the focus herein, on a snapshot of cavalry life and the solitary
stoicism it breeds in men of a certain vintage and honor. John Ford is
undeniably the master of this sort of male bonding and She Wore A Yellow Ribbon is hardly unworthy of all the critical
accolades it then received. But it pales somewhat in Ford’s vast back catalog
of iconic western-themed dramas; the real star, arguably, Winton C. Hoch’s
positively gorgeous Technicolor cinematography; a richly saturated tapestry of
hues designed expressly to illicit a certain careworn pride while evoking an
epic sense of grandeur. And Ford, with this movie, ever intuitive in his reinventions
of the serialized and cliché-ridden matinee ‘cowboys and Indians’ melodrama,
continues to elevate the social standing of the Hollywood western to a finite
level of uniquely American artistry – as sumptuous and evocative as any renown
painting by Remington while ever so gingerly eschewing the usual western milieu
of brawls, broads and braves, battling it out against this windswept and
sun-kissed tundra.
The failing
here is perhaps the script; a story seemingly about nothing except the daily
rigors and occasional mundane duties in cavalry life; the Nugent/Stallings’
screenplay methodically paced, but lacking two fundamentals to make it truly
click; first, a sense of drama in its narrative arc, and second, some emotional
satisfaction owed from any of these characters to setup their suffrage as
genuinely engaging. John Wayne delivers a supremely nuanced portrait as one of
Ford’s most iconic ‘celibate heroes’ burdened by a sense of personal loyalty as
well as truthfulness. In short, Wayne is magnificence personified; the elder
statesman preparing to enter his emeritus years; given a last minute reprieve
from merely fading with these moldering pages of history. Joanne Dru is an eloquent
and forthright heroine, possessing a far greater intelligence as an actress
that serves the enterprising Olivia Dandridge well. She plays her cards right in the romance
department too – affectionately attracted to Wayne’s statured senior officer;
exhibiting restrained regard for which the separation of their years will not
allow a more permanent amorous involvement.
In lieu of
this complication, Dru’s heroine knows her own mind. There is never any real
doubt John Agar’s Lt. Flint Cohill is leading the pack, though Dandridge
sincerely makes him work for the honor. She is not the shrinking violet, but
the mistress of her own destiny; rather, determined to test the stillness of
these very deep waters. Last, though
hardly least of all, Victor McLaglen stirs and warms the heart as the clumsily
noble sidekick, imbued with the Irish gift of the blarney stone. Interestingly,
Victor Andrew de Bier Everleigh McLaglen was born English – not Irish – though the movies would have
us believe he never ventured too far beyond Killarney for his inspirations as
the stout-hearted thespian. McLaglen,
who ought to have had a more robust standalone career, nevertheless adds
another indelible and charming figure of fun to the girth of his actor’s
repertoire.
In the last
analysis, She Wore A Yellow Ribbon
is second-tier John Ford; which is pretty much first-tier everyone else. With
what he has been given, Ford has exercised an exemplary mastery of his cinema
language; delivering the goods with spans of lurid action interspersed between
tender moments of uncomplicated introspection; his peerless visuals both intrepid
and handsome. There was not a director in his own time to make a troop of
soldiers appear more majestically the embodiment of America’s outward pride in
its own nation-building prowess; or satisfy so completely with odes to bygone
chivalry, sandwiched between twinges of social regret carved into an old
soldier’s sad-eyed valediction. Yet, Ford’s sense of artifice and authority are
occasionally at odds with the realism of these stark, craggy plains that
envelope. The movie is perhaps a little too understated for most expectations;
the battle sequences more or less resolved in a cause and effect matter-of-fact
manner.
This might
have worked if Ford had given us more involvement between characters along the
way. Instead, he indulges us with his obvious love of the land; long tracking
shots of the journey, the real drama to be found in some awe-inspiring vistas
shot in vibrant shades of glorious Technicolor. Lavishly produced and extremely
edifying, the cinema language in this piece is nevertheless limited and not
enough to sustain it as a drama/actioner; more of a moving tableau,
superficially touching upon the rigors, virtues and vices of military cavalrymen
perennially on the march. Cobbled
together from interiors shot on a sound stage, it is the jaw-dropping sumptuousness
of the exterior locations, for which cinematographer, Winton Hoch deservedly
won an Oscar, that continue to enthrall. Spectacular visuals can obfuscate a
lot of sins. Alas, they are never the ‘cure all’ for less than prepossessing
storytelling. She Wore A Yellow Ribbon
is a grand movie experience, but it never truly burns its moments, however
lyrical, into the subconscious with any authentic staying power.
The Warner
Archive delivers the goods in spades with this stunningly handsome Blu-ray. Restoration
expert, Robert A. Harris has suggested the image is good but not perfect, as it
was derived from an IP of the original 3-strp camera negatives, rather than the
negatives themselves; a cost-cutting measure on Warner’s part that nevertheless
has yielded some uncompromisingly breath-taking results. It’s difficult, if not
impossible to imagine how much better this might have looked with more money
spent. Warner Home Video’s old DVD suffered from a modicum of Technicolor mis-registration
creating damn disturbing halos that greatly softened the image. These have been
completely rectified on this new 1080p transfer. Wow and thank you! Contrast
advances monumentally. Blacks are richer; whites, crisper, with everything in
between snapping together with renewed freshness arguably unseen since the
picture’s opening night splendor.
Although
Technicolor was generally known as a grain-concealing technology, film grain
herein is exquisitely prominent and naturally realized; perhaps ever so
slightly smoothed during the main titles. Does it matter? Not really. What’s
here is a visual banquet for the Technicolor enthusiast. I adore and applaud
the efforts. As for the audio, it has
been restored from an original nitrate track print; a second generation choice,
likely made because the originals no longer exist. Extras are once again limited to the vintage
home movies shot by Ford and a theatrical trailer, both featured in 1080p. Yes,
I could be forlorn no new audio commentary compliments this important reissue
on Blu-ray, but frankly, I’m just too in love with the picture quality to care.
She Wore A Yellow Ribbon is required
viewing and WAC’s new Blu-ray is decidedly the only way to experience one of Ford’s most fondly recollected
masterpieces in style.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
1
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