DEVIL'S DOORWAY: Blu-ray (MGM, 1950) Warner Archive

Anthony Mann’s Devil’s Doorway (1950) is a curiosity. On the one hand, Guy Trosper’s screenplay reports to be invested in exposing racism in America, or at least, to dismantle the cinematic canonization of film makers like John Ford and Howard Hawks to have painted a canvas of the American West as a panacea for progress, liberated by the great ‘white’ westward-ho push of the late 1800’s. If only to judge by Ford and Hawks – and others, equally as celebratory about the optimism that the west represented – one could almost buy into that manufactured ‘cowboys and Indians’ milieu, blunted in its realism by iron-horsed fiction. Alas, the west was not all lariats and sagebrush. Nor, as American cinema then almost universally implied, was its conquering noble or civilized. If not for the end of WWII, the movies’ romanticism with the American West might have endured. After all, when the legend superseded reality – print the legend. But at war’s end, American G.I.’s returned from the front with a more sober notion about the world at large. The promise and the dreams that flickered so brightly on a movie screen now seemed an anathema to the hard truths to which they had been exposed.

Mann was more the realist than the romantic, and very much more fascinated with finding truthful morality to extol in his fiction.  And so, Devil’s Doorway is a morality play at heart, one to daringly suggest America’s treatment of its first peoples was not only sincerely flawed, but insidious by design.  Hollywood, however, was still Hollywood in 1950. And thus, we get Robert ‘as white as they get’ Taylor playing Shoshone native, Lance Poole. Yet, it is to Taylor’s credit – especially, as he began his career as one of cinema’s irrefutably handsome leading men – that he almost manages to pull off this pantomime.  Taylor was rounding 39 yrs. of age in 1950, and, not altogether to have aged well.  Indeed, his close-ups in Devil’s Doorway reveal a rather advanced ravage writ large across his face. Make-up can camouflage only so much. But here, the brown pancake adds not only ‘character’ but amplifies his creases. Mercifully, as Taylor aged, his acting chops ripened. So, he is more than up to the effort, and provides a very moving portrait of Poole – a man whose faith in the America he fought for during the Civil War bitterly crumbles after the death of his ailing father (Fritz Leiber). Though Leiber’s visage is more suited to the likes of a Remmington portrait, Taylor’s earns our respect for its ability to illustrate in dramatic terms Poole’s disappointment, rage, abject humiliation, and, proudly wounded betrayal.

Devil’s Doorway wastes no time exposing its prejudice against the Shoshone. The picture opens with Lance Poole’s returning from the war; a decorated Medal of Honor recipient. Regrettably, such distinction carries no weight in his home town of Medicine Bow, Wyoming. Though some, like town marshal, Zeke Carmody (Edgar Buchanan) are modestly empathetic, others like Dr. C.O. McQuillan (Harry Antrim) would prefer to finish their poker game, rather than discharge his medical duty on Poole’s dying father until it’s too late. For Poole, these revelations are a bitter pill to swallow. Men whom he held in high regard have suddenly become his enemies. Worse, a clause in the law implemented by vicious attorney, Verne Coolan (Louis Calhern) becomes nothing more than Coolan’s excuse to strip Poole of his ancestral land to give it to the white homesteaders. Unable to bypass its jurisdiction, Lance employs lawyer, Orrie Masters (Paula Raymond) to circumvent the particulars of the clause. Although fervent in Poole’s cause, Orrie is as unable to acquire the necessary signatures to secure her client’s petition.

Coolan ups the ante, organizing sheepherders to drive Poole off his land or die trying. Shoshone tribesmen, like Red Rock (James Mitchell) stand with Poole, transforming his rustic cabin into a fortified battlement Recognizing the needless bloodshed to come, Orrie telegraphs the U.S. Cavalry to intercede in a truce. Instead, the Cavalry sides with Coolan and the locals. What follows is an epic showdown in the foothills. Many lives are lost. Coolan is defeated by Poole, who is severely wounded. Recognizing all hope is lost, Poole negotiates with Lt. Grimes (Bruce Cowling), then hands over responsibility for the Shoshone survivors to the only male child left in the fight; Jimmy (Henry Marco), who leads them past the barricade, presumably onward to the reservation. As his final act, Poole dons his sergeant major's uniform, approaching Grimes and his men. Stricken by Poole’s valor, Grimes salutes Poole, as is customary for a Medal of Honor recipient. Poole collapses and dies; with him, likely the prospect to ever find common ground for his people.

Devil’s Doorway took in an impressive $1,349,000 domestically, with another $747,000 overseas, showing a profit of $25,000 on MGM’s ledgers. But critical reception was mixed. Occasionally, the picture would turn up on late night television thereafter. But otherwise, it remained unseen for decades. Viewed today, one can definitely appreciate director, Tony Mann’s verve for the subject matter. But his style never gets us in the gut, or even, over the hump of this being a ‘message picture’ – the kind, newly appointed studio exec’, Dore Schary admired so – rather than a big and glossy MGM effort a la the old Louis B. Mayer days. Mayer and Schary’s idea of running a studio, and what constituted ‘good’ pictures that could – and should – be produced under their banner was constantly at odds for their short-lived duration as co-counsel in Metro’s executive boardroom. When Mayer was ousted from power, Schary’s penchant to transform the studio was tempered by Mayer’s impressive roster of high gloss projects already lined up, and, to see MGM through to mid-decade. By decade’s end, Mayer was dead, and Schary’s idea of revising the ‘dream factory’ buried with his forced resignation in 1957. Devil’s Doorway remains one of those movies caught in the Mayer/Schary crosshairs. While competently made by Mann, it’s not altogether a successful effort. Good things in it, but incredibly, never quite able to come off as one might hope.

Devil’s Doorway gets a hi-def release via the Warner Archive (WAC) and it’s competent too, without ever looking remarkable. As much of the movie was shot on location (a rarity for MGM in its heyday) contrast is often anemic in these stark lighting conditions. John Alton’s B&W cinematography lacks the crispness and refinement we have come to expect from WAC releases. There is slight fading around the edges. This is immediately apparent during the Leon the Lion logo, and carries on thereafter.  Whites are never clean and blacks register more as dusty grey than true black. Fine details are wanting and many long shots appear soft, or even, slightly out of focus. The 2.0 DTS mono is adequate and well-represented for vintage Westrex sound. A pair of vintage cartoons and original theatrical trailer are all the extras. Bottom line: Devil’s Doorway is a fairly straight forward, and not altogether prepossessing western. There are more ambitious and well-defined movies in the MGM catalog still awaiting Blu-ray release. This one just seems to have been advanced in support of our present culture’s push for equity and inclusion. Alas, Mann’s movie makes no such claims to the like. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

1