Ok so I had a vague idea about writing a film review every
week, fail. In fact if I made that goal
one a month I probably would have failed because failing is what I do. Since I want to stay positive, I'll just say
I kick ass at failing, totally dominate it.
Anyways there's something entirely comforting about the work
of John Ford. Maybe you have to be a
cinephile, maybe you have to be a bit advanced in your cinematic education, but
there's something wholly familiar and un-pretentious about Ford and his work. It seems each new film of his you see it
immediately seems familiar in a comforting rather than a predictable sort of
way. It's what was vaguely referred to
in some circles as the makings of an "auteur".
Now auteur theory seems to mean everything to everyone when
it comes to film and it's so vague and all encompassing that it seems pointless
to try and clarify things. This may be
because the very people starting the concept seemed to have a loose definition
of it themselves. Now one way of looking
at a director in terms of his status as an auteur is whether or not you can
classify their work as wholly theirs.
This doesn't mean they are unique to the point of absurdity, but well
you can tell when Quentin Tarantino is making a movie vs. a cheap knock
off. You can spot the difference between
a Wes Anderson movie and some other quirky indie comedy.
These are some of the markings, but there is another idea
that drew a lot of flack regarding this theory and that was the belief that
even the lesser films of these directors (say Death Proof and The Life Aquatic
for example) are still worth watching over say some well produced slick film
from a faceless director like Kings Speech or The Young Victoria. Now this isn't necessarily saying that those
lesser films are better, just that they are more worthy of your time. They are more interesting, they will stick
with you longer, etc. For example the age old comparison of Samuel Fuller over
William Wyler despite the fact that Wyler made better films than damn near
anyone in his generation.
Now I can't necessarily say that the work of some
idiosyncratic weirdo automatically trumps a polished effort. That is an absurd idea to me, but you can
understand how some films can warm your heart even without being particularly
great. John Ford's work is arguably the
epitome of this. He's a director with so
many signature traits that manage to span virtually every genre.
Sure there are Ford films that seem out of place and don't
necessarily adhere to his trademarks, such as Mary of Scotland, and yes he made
the Shirley Temple vehicle Wee Willie Winkie, but throughout his career his
films took a modified stance on the "seen one, seen 'em all" mantra. In some ways you can say he was Hollywood's
answer to Yasujiro Ozu who made the same film over and over again, but whose
early career has a few wild diversions from his central themes. Ozu unlike Ford wrote the majority of his
films whereas Ford seemed determined to mold each of his films into a
representation of himself.
The Long Gray Line is one of those films that fits decidedly
into Ford's later line. Like some of his
other nostalgic films of the period, notably Wings of Eagles this takes into
account the life of a lifetime soldier as a bumbling recruit to sentimental old
veteran. The film itself is uneven due
to the somewhat abrupt way it seems to go from carefree nostalgic romp to
outright tragedy. However it doesn't
seem like Ford is ever too far into grim territory. He isn't one of those East European directors
who refuses to shoot in color whose films are full of drab long takes set to
haunting cello scores in a minor key.
Ford's work is of a much more lively variety.
Ma Joad ended The Grapes of Wrath with a corny speech about
essentially keeping up the fight and not quitting, life goes on etc. The words were actually John Steinbeck's (I
was paraphrasing greatly) but it seems as though Ford took those lessons to
heart. Nearly all of his films seem to
show a degree of that perseverance Ma Joad had.
Your newborn son dies? Get over
it. Your wife dies? Get over it.
You get wounded in war? Get over
it. Life is good even great after
tragedy you just have to occasionally take your medicine because in the
cinematic world of Ford there is some degree of karmic balance. Someone will catch a break, they will have
some hard times and at the end of the day it always seems worthwhile. I'll get pretentious and mention the famous
Socrates quote "The unexamined life is not worth living." Well for many of Ford's protagonists they are
always doing this.
Marty Maher (Tyrone Power) is doing just that, examining his
life. He narrates his days as a fresh
off the boat Irish immigrant, to failed waiter, enlisted man, and eventually
athletic director at West Point. He is
in some ways a reflection of Ford, or more appropriately Ford's father. Ford was born in Maine with the incredibly
Irish name of John Martin O'Feeney (or Sean Aloysius depending on which source
you ask), but his father was an immigrant.
Throughout Ford's films you see a genuine nostalgia for Ireland but the
inevitable admittance that life is better in America hard or not. This is a sentiment that Maureen O'Hara's
character Mary says to him in the film when he mentions the idea of buying a
pub back in Ireland when they save enough money.
To Marty in this film, he is constantly just marking time at
West Point. He is always planning on
getting out and moving on but as the film repeatedly demonstrates there always
seems to be something to bring him back in.
In some ways it seems like his destiny is to preserve over the long gray
line of continuous recruits in much the same way Mr. Chips saw generations of
English boys pass through his school.
There is even a generational touch here in this film which might not be
a direct reference to Goodbye Mr. Chips but a friendly reminder of the lifetime
Maher spent in his position.
I've read that Ford hated Cinemascope, but you wouldn't know
it from this film, or really any of his wide screen pictures. He has a way of filling the frame without
cluttering it. In Henry Koster's film
The Robe, which is credited as the first feature in Cinemascope, the frame is
so unbelievably cluttered that it's often hard to find what you're supposed to
be focused on. In the two years after it
seems that filmmakers figured it out, or rather Ford didn't want his film to
look like some cluttered Roman epic. The
scenes are balanced, spaced well, and the long stream of military marches seem
perfectly suited to the wide format.
I can only really recommend this film because Ford films are
always worth watching. It's not his
best, nor would it be near the top of that list, but it has a familiarity to it
that makes it damn good. In fact like
Ozu this might just be a masterpiece to you.
So many of his films touch on so many similar subjects that it's easy to
find one a great film and another very similar picture just average. Maybe I'm wrong about this, but well what of
it? If you have the time you can do much
worse than watching all of Ford's films.
They are all worth your time and fantastic in their own way. It's like spending time with a sentimental
but tough old Irishman who smells of whiskey 24/7 who spins the most fantastic
yarns.
Btw my apologies for spending the majority of this talking
film theory again, oh well I digress often.
