JOHN FORD FILM COLLECTION (1934-1964). There’s a reason that film critics routinely refer to Martin Scorsese as the greatest living American director, since it’s almost unanimous that John Ford retains the title of the greatest American director, period. (Frankly, I prefer Howard Hawks by a thin margin, but that’s another subject.) Warner Bros. has seen fit to simultaneously release two related box sets: The mammoth John Wayne/John Ford Film Collection (look for that review in an upcoming issue of CL) and this Wayne-drained set featuring a quintet of titles Ford made without his favorite leading man.
Ford had already directed approximately 80 motion pictures (including dozens of silents dating back to 1917) by the time he helmed The Lost Patrol (1934), which, while not as famous as subsequent works, is nonetheless considered one of the key films from his early sound period. The story immediately grabs the viewer by the collar, as a British officer on desert patrol during World War I is shot dead by a single bullet and his second in command, a gruff sergeant (Victor McLaglen), realizes that the murdered man was the only one who knew their mission or even the way out of this sand-swept hellhole. The sergeant tries to lead the outfit (whose members are slowly coming apart at the seams) to safety, but unseen Arab snipers continue picking them off one by one. Ford’s brisk direction, Max Steiner’s Oscar-nominated score and a suitably manic performance by Boris Karloff as a religious fanatic all work in tandem to create an exciting (if relentlessly grim) adventure yarn.
For The Informer (1935), Ford reteamed with his key Lost Patrol personnel — star McLaglen, scripter Dudley Nichols and composer Steiner — and the result earned all four men Academy Awards. Ford’s Oscar was particularly noteworthy: It marked the first of his four career wins for Best Director — interestingly, none for a Western, the genre with which he’s most identified. Set during the Irish Civil War in 1922, the film stars McLaglen (in a tremendous performance) as Gypo Nolan, a brawling, hard-drinking lug who betrays his best friend, an insurgent (Wallace Ford), to the British authorities for 20 pounds. Chewed up by guilt, Gypo continues to drink heavily, spends the money freely and sweats it out once he realizes that members of the underground (including, shades of Fritz Lang’s M, a blind man) have begun to suspect that he’s the traitor in their ranks. The marvel of Ford’s film is that Gypo Nolan, clearly no hero, never quite comes across as a villain, either. Despite his shocking betrayal, he’s merely an ignorant oaf too dim to grasp the ramifications of his actions, and McLaglen plays the part as if Gypo were a distant cousin to Of Mice and Men’s Lennie.
Mary of Scotland (1936) is the odd film out in the John Ford canon, a historical costume epic so dramatically distracted that it appears Ford’s mind was home on the range instead of confined to the studio set. Based on the Maxwell Anderson play, this stilted melodrama casts a chilly Katharine Hepburn as the title queen, who tries to rule Scotland while warding off duplicitous noblemen who would rather see her exiled or executed. Mary finds happiness when she falls in love with her protector, the Earl of Bothwell (Fredric March), but it’s Queen Elizabeth (Florence Eldridge, March’s real-life wife), fearful that Mary covets her throne, who has the final say in the matter. A similar tale about love and betrayal among the royal set — with Elizabeth herself as the smitten monarch — appeared three years later in the form of The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (starring Bette Davis and Errol Flynn), and it’s a heckuva lot more fun than this tedious endeavor.
Having contended with charges of racism for a good part of his career (particularly toward Native Americans), Ford served up a pair of mea culpas during the home stretch. Sergeant Rutledge (1960) is Ford’s roundabout tribute to the Buffalo Soldiers, with the central plotline concerning a black officer accused of raping and murdering a young white woman. The military career of Sergeant Rutledge (excellent Woody Strode) is impeccable, but that doesn’t stop a courtroom full of irate citizens from wanting to see him hanged for his heinous crimes. But Lieutenant Cantrell (underrated Jeffrey Hunter, a far better actor than “pretty boy” peers like Troy Donahue and Tab Hunter) believes Rutledge to be innocent, so he decides to defend him by methodically piecing together the events (shown in flashback) surrounding the murder. Suspense and social commentary mingle easily in this exciting drama, marred only by a rushed and unconvincing denouement.
Even more weighty than Sergeant Rutledge, Cheyenne Autumn (1964) finds Ford making amends with the Native American, detailing the fact-based odyssey in which the Cheyenne nation, tired of the poor treatment at the hands of the US government, defies orders by trekking 1,500 miles from an Oklahoma reservation back to its Wyoming territory. A sympathetic captain (Richard Widmark) pursues them while an even more sympathetic Quaker woman (Carroll Baker) travels with them; meanwhile, the Cheyenne also struggle with internal conflicts, particularly ones involving the two leaders (Ricardo Montalban and Gilbert Roland) and a hotheaded warrior (Sal Mineo). This would have been more heartfelt had Ford bothered to cast real Native Americans in the central roles — instead we get Mexicans Montalban and Roland and Italian-American Mineo — but regardless, the film is undermined by shallow characterizations and a choppy, episodic screenplay. Most of the performances are fine — there are even welcome stints by Edward G. Robinson as the Secretary of the Interior and James Stewart as Wyatt Earp (the latter appearing in an amusing but narratively worthless interlude) — but the real star is cinematographer William H. Clothier, who deservedly earned an Oscar nomination for his staggering visuals.
Atypically for a Warner Bros. classics release, extras are sparse. Cheyenne Autumn includes audio commentary by author and film scholar Joseph McBride (Searching for John Ford: A Life), a vintage featurette and the trailer; The Informer includes a new featurette and the trailer; Sergeant Rutledge only boasts of the trailer; and the remaining two titles contain no extras.
The Lost Patrol: ***1/2
The Informer: ***1/2
Mary of Scotland: **
Sergeant Rutledge: ***
Cheyenne Autumn: **1/2
Extras: **
This article appears in Jun 14-20, 2006.
