Anthony Caruso's collaborations with Alan Ladd

This post is my contribution to the What a Character! Blogathon, hosted by the great blogger team of Aurora of Once Upon A Screen, Paula of Paula's Cinema Club, and Kellee of Outspoken & Freckled. Go to any of those sites to read the other blogathon entries on this always fascinating topic of character actors.

Anthony Caruso in the 1940s

Like many of the best character actors during the 'golden age' of Hollywood, Anthony Caruso's output was prolific. Need a menacing henchman for your mob lead in a gangster picture? Call Caruso. Require an Indian chief to complicate the life of your Western hero or heroine? Caruso's your man. Caruso did it all and more in a 50-year career in movies, TV, and radio. Some of his parts were large, others were tiny, although most were villains or at least unsavory characters. His best roles allowed him to display his sensitivity and humanity. Today, there is not much written about him, but a few interview clips with him are available. What is interesting is that in those that I've seen he discusses his relationship with star Alan Ladd. On the surface, two more different actors could not be paired - Caruso, large and swarthy; Ladd, diminutive, soft-spoken, and blond. But yet the two careers were tightly intertwined in the 1940s and 1950s.

Caruso in Johnny Apollo film poster, 2nd from left.

Caruso was born in Indiana to Italian immigrants, but moved to California at age 10. His acting career started when he was still a teenager, playing in "all the chronicles Shakespeare ever wrote, from King John to Henry VIII"(1), at the Pasadena Playhouse. When young, he was a handsome guy, but his dark and brooding face and large muscular physique had the studios steering him into 'bad guy' character parts almost immediately. His first film role was in the 20th Century Fox Tyrone Power gangster film Johnny Apollo. His name appears way down in the credits as 'Joe the Henchman' but he appears in a film poster (2nd from left) with Power. His final film credit was in 1990, and he died at age 86 in 2003.

Throughout the 1940s, Caruso found steady work as a character player for multiple studios. His collaboration with Alan Ladd started very early in both their careers, in the 1942 Paramount gangster comedy (!) picture Lucky Jordan. This was a film Paramount rushed out when after This Gun For Hire, they realized they had a star in Ladd. (In another twist, Caruso was being seriously considered for the lead in This Gun For Hire, but Paramount chose to cast Ladd against type). Caruso had one short scene, sharing the screen with the film's villain Sheldon Leonard. Blink and you'll miss it.

A couple of years later, he had a bit part in another Ladd film, And Now Tomorrow, also starring Loretta Young. In this role, he again didn't have a chance to make much of an impression on the audience, but he did make one on Ladd. This is where their lifelong friendship and film collaboration truly took off.

Caruso (r) supporting Sheldon Leonard in his (unsuccessful)
attempt to take down Alan Ladd's character via a sharp shot
through a window in Lucky Jordan.

Caruso's version of the story goes like this. On the set, Alan asked Caruso to come to his dressing room to chat, and it was quickly clear to him that Caruso didn't remember their encounter nearly 10 years earlier. He refreshed Caruso's memory: in 1933 both aspiring actors were trying out for roles at the Pasadena Playhouse, and because Ladd had no lunch money, Caruso, who would have been 17 to Ladd's 20, bought Ladd lunch. Ladd related that he never forgot that act of kindness and wanted to give Caruso work whenever he could: "From that time on, Alan, a star, would throw me a script and say, 'pick a part'."(2) "He insisted that I be in his films, whenever I was available."(3)

Due to his bankable star status, Ladd had considerable sway at Paramount. It's not clear, though, if he played a role in Caruso's casting in The Blue Dahlia (1946), or Wild Harvest (1947). In The Blue Dahlia, Caruso is memorable, but again uncredited, as a Marine recently returned from WWII who is provoked by William Bendix's character at a bar's jukebox. His role in Wild Harvest is likewise tiny. Interestingly, Ladd's last role for Paramount was as the titular character of the classic Western Shane (1953). Caruso stated that he would have liked to have done a part in Shane more than any of the Ladd pictures he did do (3).

It didn't seem that Caruso needed Ladd for his career. In 1950 he was a major supporting player in one of the finest movies of his career, the great noir heist film, The Asphalt Jungle. Here he plays the safecracker Louis Ciavelli, a desperate man trying to provide for his family during difficult times. He gets shot when the heist goes wrong, but takes hours to die, staying loyal to his compadres to the end. The role took full advantage of Caruso's sensitive side and elicited the sympathy of the audience.

Caruso (second from right) plans a heist with Sam Jaffe,
Sterling Hayden, and James Whitmore in The Asphalt Jungle.

It was when Ladd moved to Warner Brothers in the early 1950s that Caruso's profile in Ladd's films increased. This was a time of career uncertainty for Ladd, as he was challenged to find his footing at his new studio. His response was both negative and positive--he started drinking heavily, but he also built his own production company, Jaguar Films, under the Warner Bros. umbrella, and produced a series of mostly Western films. None of these rose to the stature of Shane, but most were entertaining and bankable. Ladd relied heavily on many colleagues from Paramount and developed his own 'stock company', in which Caruso was a prominent member. Reliable directors such as Delmer Daves and Frank Tuttle, and co-stars such as Virginia Mayo, Shelley Winters, Edmond O'Brien, and Charles Bronson added to their value.

Caruso as Brog in The Big Land

At Jaguar/Warner Bros. from 1952-1958, Caruso worked with Ladd on seven films: The Iron Mistress (1952), Desert Legion (1953), Saskatchewan (1954), Drum Beat (1954), Hell on Frisco Bay (1955), The Big Land (1957) and The Badlanders (1958). In two of these, he played a Native American, today a controversial casting choice, to be sure. However, despite that, in those roles Caruso was convincing.

One reason Ladd may have been eager to cast Caruso--according to Caruso, he was willing to slouch, stretch out his hips, or contort in other ways so as not to be taller than Ladd. "I know Alan appreciated that", he said (5).

I'd like to highlight two contrasting films of this time. The first, The Big Land, is a middling Western with Ladd teaming with Edmond O'Brien to make the Great Plains safe for cattle merchants. In this one, Caruso has a large part as the main villain, Brog. He's a ruthless cattle buyer who uses intimidation and murder to shut out the competition. There is no subtlety in the role, as Caruso leers and sneers, milking a mediocre script for all it's worth.

The second film is widescreen Cinemascope color noir Hell on Frisco Bay. This film evokes some memory of Ladd's success in noir in the 1940s, and adds to its noir credentials with the likes of Edward G. Robinson and Paul Stewart. It's worth checking out on DVD. Here, Caruso has a cameo that is a far cry from the cardboard villain Brog. He's a devoted father who happens to have some knowledge of a mob murder on the docks that ex-con Ladd is investigating. Ladd visits Caruso in his flat and catches him in the middle of a shave. While wanting to be helpful to Ladd, he realizes the price he may pay, and the risk to his young son, if he reveals too much. Over the course of the short scene he's tough, threatening, soft, fearful, all in quick succession. His casting here is a work of genius and perhaps the peak of the Ladd/Caruso collaboration.

Caruso assures Ladd he knows little about murder at the docks
in Hell on Frisco Bay.

Caruso with his young son (Peter J. Votrian) in Hell on Frisco Bay.

Sadly, Alan Ladd struggled professionally and personally at the end of the 1950s and early 1960s, until he died from an accidental overdose at age 50 in 1964. In this later period, the film The Badlanders (with Ernest Borgnine and Caruso in a small role) is definitely worth checking out. It's a western version of The Asphalt Jungle, and Ladd brings an appropriate amount of world-weary cynicism that enhances the adventure.

As for Caruso, his career lasted almost another 30 years after Ladd died, and he continued to find success in Westerns, mobster, and 'ethnic' roles in TV and movies. Fans of the original Star Trek TV series will recall him as a gangster in the time travel episode 'A Piece of the Action' from 1968. If he were born a generation later, he may have found long-lasting success as a member of the New Jersey mob in the acclaimed TV series The Sopranos. In real life, apparently, Caruso's life was quite the opposite of many of his characters. His hobbies included cooking and gardening, and his marriage lasted 63 years. His career is a model of character actor success in Hollywood-a nearly 50-year career in all kinds of roles, using a variety of talents, and knowing that taking work is sometimes more important than ensuring that every role has substantive screen time. Whenever Caruso pops up in a film, you're guaranteed to be entertained.

Caruso (l) confronts Captain Kirk (William Shatner) in Star Trek's episode
"A Piece of the Action"

(1) Interview with Sunset Carson
(2) Alan Ladd: The True Quiet Man (Documentary)
(3)-(5) Interview with Sunset Carson 

THE BIG KNIFE (1955) – on an excoriation of the Hollywood studio system, and a eulogy for John Garfield

This post is my entry in the 2016 CMBA Fall Blogathon 'Hollywood on Hollywood.'  Check out all the posts here.

If any film could cure me of my obsession with classic Hollywood, The Big Knife might be it.  Made in 1955 by veteran director Robert Aldrich, it pulls out every imaginable stop on the way to creating a portrait of a Hollywood that is completely corrupt, a place which around every turn is Lucifer himself, and in which only the strongest can survive.  Of course, this wasn’t entirely Aldrich’s vision, but first that of Clifford Odets, famed playwright who spent time in Hollywood and formed, shall we say, a not-so-flattering opinion of its inner workings, which formed the basis of his play of the same name.  Three years earlier, Hollywood lost one of its brighter stars, actor John Garfield; his untimely death of a heart ailment at age 39 was widely believed to be related to his anguish resulting from his Hollywood blacklisting.  Ironically, Garfield was the one who had taken on the role of the main character in the initial Broadway run of Odets’ play in 1949.  As a Hollywood casualty, Garfield was, for those making the film, top of mind during the creative process.

Clifford Odets, www.broadway.com

Odets in the late 1940s had already had a successful run as an acclaimed actor and playwright (Golden Boy; Awake and Sing!)  in New York.  In those early years he was a member of the Group Theater, a progressive cohort including director Lee Strasburg, then spent nearly a decade in Hollywood, writing for film and for television.  As someone who was sensitive to the tug-of-war between the human spirit and Hollywood, he himself felt he ‘sold out’ to the system, and began to suffer periods of creative lapse.  His play about the devastating effects of ‘pressure’ from the Hollywood star factory ‘The Big Knife’ was observed to be a very loose autobiographical portrait.  Its main character, star actor heartthrob Charlie Castle, finds himself at a career crossroads at the opening; his marriage is in trouble and he has been unhappy in his roles provided by his home studio, where he’s under contract.  His recent contract is up and he’s under pressure from the studio head, Marcus Hoff, to sign another multi-year deal. His wife has issued an ultimatum – sign and she leaves with their young son.  For its part, the studio holds a powerful weapon in a criminal secret of a Castle misdeed they kept quiet from the public.  The story takes place within Castle's own luxurious Beverly Hills home, with comings and goings of his wife, agent, studio boss Hoff and wing man Coy, friend Buddy Bliss and his wife, herself a sometime lover of Charlie, a fading starlet, also fatefully involved with Charlie, a famed gossip columnist, and a couple of personal assistants.  In just a few days, Castle goes from mere anxiety to desperation and depression, as he buckles under and fights various pressures and makes fateful decisions. 

John Garfield. www.ibdb.com

At the time Garfield took the lead role in this play on Broadway, he was already facing pressure in Hollywood for his alleged but unsubstantiated Communist affiliations, and he had left Warner Bros. Studios and formed his own production company.  His long association with Odets in the Group Theater led to his casting as Charlie Castle, which was directed by Strasburg.  A couple of years later he was blacklisted for refusing to name names during his testimony at the hearing in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), and while desperately trying to gain control of a faltering career, he died in New York in 1952. His participation in a show that was a condemnation of Hollywood likely did not help his standing there.  The play received mixed reviews – the positive ones were mostly due to Garfield’s performance.  For his part, Odets found himself criticized by those that felt his portrayal of Hollywood over-the-top harsh.  He was quoted as saying:  “I have nothing against Hollywood per se.  I do have something against a large set-up which destroys people and eats them up.  I chose Hollywood as the setting for The Big Knife because I know it.”  The play ran for 108 performances.

Robert Aldrich, imdb.com

In 1955, when maverick director Aldrich decided to adapt the play to film, Garfield was already dead.  Aldrich, who hammered out a productive career in Hollywood as a director or assistant director in a variety of genres, earlier had joined on with Garfield’s production company endeavors in the 1940s, sharing his progressive values and the desire to hold off the power of the big studio system.  Aldrich’s directorial career took off with Westerns Apache and Vera Cruz, and he decided to form his own production company ‘The Associates and Aldrich’.  He made the lauded Kiss Me Deadly, which was part noir and part nuclear apocalyptic warning. Then came The Big Knife, which no doubt would not have been made by any major studio.  Aldrich had a hand in adapting the play for the screen, and the screenwriting credit went to James Poe; the result stayed generally faithful to the play.

John Garfield and Shelley Winters
in He Ran All The Way (from imdb.com)

In place of Garfield was Jack Palance as Charlie Castle.  While perhaps not an obvious choice, Palance cut an imposing and handsome figure.  Ida Lupino, already a director in her own right, was cast as Marion Castle.  Lupino had been close to Garfield, and was personally persuaded to take on the role by Aldrich.  After reviewing the script, she wrote to Aldrich saying some of her lines were such that she envisioned herself saying them to Garfield.  Playing the studio head, Stanley (changed from Marcus) Hoff was Rod Steiger.  Also in the cast were Jean Hagen, Wendell Corey, Everett Sloane, and Wesley Addy.  In a small but critical role as starlet Dixie Evans was Shelley Winters, a close associate of Garfield, who starred with him in his last film He Ran All The Way.  Winters dedicated her performance to him.  Efficiently shot by Aldrich’s company on a $423,000 budget and within about two weeks, upon release by United Artists it didn’t win a large audience, nor did it expect to.  

Ida Lupino and Jack Palance in The Big Knife

This cynicism coming through the film is not subtle.  The character of studio head Hoff, is portrayed by Steiger is an egomaniac who indulges a dangerous temper, beats up young starlets, and condones murder in the name of keeping the studio reputation intact.  Steiger’s performance has been criticized, and he definitely takes the opportunity to satirize the figure of the tyrannical studio head by his bluster.  At one point, Castle says to him, “The embroidery of your speech is completely out of proportion to anything you have to say.”  Steiger even reminded me, in some of his line readings, of Marlon Brando’s mob boss Don Corleone in The Godfather. I wonder if Steiger influenced Brando in any way for this later film.  Considering the two actors had associations with the ‘method’ system of acting (coming out of the Group Theater tradition) and had worked together in On The Waterfront, I suspect this is possible.  Regardless, Columbia Studios head Harry Cohn took this portrayal personally and made life difficult for Aldrich afterward.

Rod Steiger throwing a tantrum in The Big Knife

Other characters are 'typed' and exaggerated as well. There is the portrayal of the ‘studio fixer’ in the character of Coy, played icily by Wendell Corey, willing to do the studio dirty work.  Innocent young starlets are pushed into prostitution on behalf of the studio, and agents are sniveling, powerless small men.  There is even the character of the ruthless gossip columnist, who hounds stars and threatens them just to get the scoop.  The portrayal of ‘Patty Benedict’ by Ilka Chase, although infused with some dignity, was likely a dig at Hedda Hopper or Louella Parsons, who wielded considerable power in Hollywood.  Perhaps not surprisingly, the script takes the opportunity to praise the Group Theater & Mercury Theater in contrast to studio politics.   

Shelley Winters tied up in a telephone line on the dance floor

Palance embodies the virility and charm of Castle, and with his affinity to fly into tempers at small provocation, we sense he’s a man with a deep despondency.  He also paces, sweats and trembles throughout the film.  While Lupino portrayed well the devotion of Marion to her husband, and her ultimate ability to forgive his faults, for me she lacked what I believe the character must have had, which was an edge.  However, her final scene holds tremendous power, and it gave Lupino a chill as well.  In fact, as stated in her bio by William Donati, she claimed that every scene was heartrending to film, when she reflected on Garfield and the similarity between his ‘persecuted end’ and the downfall of Castle.

The film makes good use of style -- the set design looks sterile but appropriate as the interior of a home for a star in the 1950s, and cinematographer Ernest Laszlo plays in black-and-white with odd camera angles and sudden close-ups to keep the audience feeling uncomfortable.  The sound design employed effects such as snare drum rolls at critical times to ratchet up the tension.  The script itself included some cynicism through sarcasm, nowhere more evident than in the opening voice-over narration: “Failure is not permitted here.”  The juxtaposition of upbeat music with the ominous language, both here and in the final scene, underscore this cynical attitude.

Jack Palance and Everett Sloane

From the opening credits, Jack Palance behind a web

As a film, The Big Knife will never have the popularity or audience of a Sunset Boulevard, for example; it’s too dark, too unrelenting, and in some ways, too preachy.  The film takes pains to show Hollywood as a house of horrors – not a place that can’t be escaped, but rather one that requires extraordinary character and will to do so.  All involved were acutely aware of, and some grieving, the premature loss of John Garfield.  The additional pressure of the blacklist and the postwar cultural angst made for added challenge, and made life difficult for stars like Garfield who worked to maintain integrity.  The message that Hollywood isn’t just about glitz and glamour, or even art, is an important one, even as we classic film enthusiasts in the 21st century find tremendous enjoyment from the products of the studio system.

Sources:

Donati, William, Ida Lupino, University Press of Kentucky, Lexington, KY, 1996.Miller, Gabriel, Clifford Odets, Continuum Publishing Company, New York, 1989.
Lund, Carson, Essay on Robert Aldrich for the Harvard Film Archive, 2016:  http://hcl.harvard.edu/hfa/films/2016junaug/aldrich.html

Murray, Edward, Clifford Odets, the Thirties and After, Frederick Ungar Publishing, New York, 1968.
Odets, Clifford, The Big Knife, Random House, New York, 1949.

Stafford, Jeff. tcm.com online article The Big Knife. http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title/15874/The-Big-Knife/articles.html

Reminder to check out all entries in our blogathon here!

The Unexpected Beauty in SHANE (1953)

To celebrate the Oscar season, I'm pleased to be adding this post on George Stevens' Shane for the 31 Days Of Oscar Blogathon -- The Motion Pictures, hosted by Paula's Cinema Club, Outspoken and Freckled, and Once Upon a Screen. The film, based on the book by Jack Schaefer (1949), won the Oscar for Loyal Griggs' cinematography, and garnered another five nominations: Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor (Palance), Best Supporting Actor (deWilde), Best Director (Stevens), and Best Screenplay (Guthrie).

Not unlike the way the mysterious title character rode unexpectedly into the lives of the Starrett family in late 19th century Wyoming, Shane, the film, sneaked up on me. As a relatively new enthusiast of classic film, I had focused most of my attention on the black and white era--the silents, the pre-codes, some screwball comedies, etc.  Yet, here was this 1950s technicolor Western, previously unknown to me, that after I first watched on a whim due to a recommendation from Netflix (!), I found myself watching multiple times.  Why?  After reflecting on this I came to the conclusion, as I'll share here, that it possesses varied elements of unexpected beauty that make viewing it a great pleasure, and no doubt contribute to its being an enduring classic.

Visual Elements
The film's lone Oscar win was for Loyal Griggs' cinematography.  Certainly the location setting in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, with the rugged Grand Tetons in the background, made for many beautiful vistas in the film.  In several of the outdoor shots, Griggs used a long focal-length lens that brought the mountains forward into crisp focus while keeping attention on the foreground action.

Joe and Joey Starrett in foreground, Marian Starrett doing laundry in rear,
and a wagon approaching, all set against the gorgeous Grand Teton range
near Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Beyond this, though, director Stevens' choice of focus on the earth with the muddy trenches, plentiful wildlife, and rushing streams, shown at eye or ground level, created the breathtaking beauty for me -- it was as if I were in the picture, and the picture was not a fairy tale  place but a real locale, with flesh, blood, joy, death, and new life, all commingled.  What was going to happen in the film, then, was real, and then really mattered.

Great shot using natural (stormy) lighting, and highlighting the muddy
trench at the showdown between Palance's and Elisha Cook Jr's characters

Wildlife, streams, plains and mountains from eye level

In the DVD audio commentary, George Stevens Jr. quotes comments made by his father that unlike most westerns of the time, the costumes (Edith Head) were not out of some "Western Costume Corporation" all crisp and robust, but were worn and weathered to enhance the realism.  George Stevens had worked extensively with technical adviser Joe DeYong, a deaf-mute authority on Western history, to get this as well as other details of the period exactly right--how ropes were hung, knots were tied, saddles were designed, etc (1).  From the way the film was shot, you, as viewer, felt you were there, and thus naturally had a greater emotional investment in the story.

Music
Long-time Paramount contract musician Victor Young must have reached his apex in his creating and sustaining the varied moods of the film with his music, a blend of new composition and folk tunes.  The primary theme of Shane, "Call of the Faraway Hills", is introduced during the title sequence with a short four-note trumpet fanfare, placed over the Paramount logo, that suggests a bombastic story, yet then unexpectedly relaxes into a quiet chord, followed by woodwind arpeggios, and then the strings that lead into the gorgeous plaintive melody.  The melody becomes the theme of the movie, and for the title character.  We know right away that the character seen riding his horse down into the valley is going to have an element of sadness to his story--he's not going to be the bombastic hero some may expect.  The title scenes and the accompanying music can be seen here:

Similarly, the character of Marian Starrett has her own theme, a soft melodic (3/4 or waltz time) line from the folk tune "Put Your Little Foot", indicating her essential goodness and gentility, and symbol of home and hearth.  This melody is played early in the film, when Marian is making dinner for Shane and her family, and in those interactions between her and Shane that indicate an unspoken mutual attraction.  Marian's theme (2):

This attraction is underscored in a key scene in which Shane and Marian dance together briefly at a 4th of July picnic to a melancholy western folk waltz called "Goodbye Old Paint--I'm Leaving Cheyenne."  The few times I've seen the film I found this tune stuck in my head at the end, even though it lasted less than one minute in the score.  I discovered that it's a fairly well-known cowboy tune--for a sense of this beautiful melody check this out, as performed by Roy Rogers & Dale Evans:

The Actors
Montgomery Clift, star of PLACE IN THE SUN, was an early choice of George Stevens for the role of Shane; while he would arguably have been an excellent choice, it's now hard to imagine anyone other than Alan Ladd embodying this character. Ladd was a major star at Paramount at the time, and was chosen without much hesitation by Stevens when Clift was not available. Along with his resonant baritone, Ladd had a talent for conveying his characters through evocative facial expressions--and projecting both a sinewy toughness and a melancholy tenderness, critical for many of his noir roles.  Those talents are used to great advantage for the character of Shane. There is a scene early in the film, at the dinner table, when suddenly startled by a loud noise -- Ladd goes from a sudden fear to embarrassment from what he knows is an overreaction, in about 2 seconds -- masterfully portrayed in his face and body.

Ladd was also gorgeous, and Stevens was not afraid to highlight this in the film--the camera illustrated something about this character that was perhaps a little other worldly.

The Lone Gunman after the final battle --
wistful that he won't be able to escape his past.

Stevens had the ability to create the right conditions to allow Ladd to fulfill his potential as an actor, and as a result the actor and director developed a strong mutual respect and friendship. Ladd was at a turning point in his career when he made Shane (3).  After filming wrapped, he signed up to make a few movies in Europe, and Shane was not released until two years later, Stevens working over that time to edit the film and Paramount not sure what they had.  (Widescreen was also just coming into vogue and this caused a controversy at the time of the film's release, and beyond--read about that here.)  By the time the film was released to great acclaim, Ladd had committed to leave Paramount for Warner Bros., where he hoped to exert more control over his film choices as well as to command a greater salary.  It is largely accepted that such were the politics that resulted in Paramount not promoting Ladd for a best actor Oscar nomination for Shane.  For these reasons Ladd's career really didn't benefit from his exceptional turn in Shane, but there were positives.  He gained a long-term friend in Van Heflin; and, with his entire family on location, 16-year old son and future award-winning producer Alan Ladd Jr. relished the opportunity to see a first class production up close, and was an avid student (3).

At the beginning of the film

Jean Arthur was perhaps an odd choice to play the role of Marian Starrett -- she was nearly 50 at filming, eight years older than Van Heflin and 13 years older than Ladd.  Once again, Stevens recognized her potential to demonstrate the right blend of pioneer-woman ruggedness and loveliness.  With the right make-up, and soft focus close-ups, and despite a poor wig choice, Arthur was radiant as Marian.  Over the course of the movie, she is shown in progressively more feminine clothes, perhaps highlighting the feelings that Shane stirred in her.  This was the last film Arthur made, retiring to periodic stage and television appearances.

Wearing her wedding dress later in the film (with Heflin)

Academy award nominee Jack Palance was terrific as the personification of evil, and perhaps the only two-dimensional character.  Dressed in mostly black, was he meant to be the devil?  Nine-year-old Oscar nominee Brandon deWilde, as the Starrett's young son, Joey, from whose eyes much of the story is presented, is also wonderful.  In common criticisms of the film many find his portrayal too cloying (his adoration of Shane) or two annoying (he often runs around yelling "bang! bang!" over the adult dialogue).  Well, that IS annoying, but what nine year old kid isn't going to annoy, or hero-worship? A breakthrough performance for someone who went on to have a solid career, though one cut short by a death in car accident at age 30.

Speaking without Words 
For me particularly, one of the most satisfying pleasures in this movie is the conveyance of character and relationships with elegant understatement:  The nature of Shane's past is conveyed only obliquely--for example, the reaching for his gun defensively when startled by a loud sound; his references to young Joey that 'you can't live with a killing'.  In fact, only intuition drives Joe and Marian Starrett to trust and accept Shane into their home without knowing anything about him, other than his apparent strength, need for companionship, willingness to help them in domestic tasks and to stand up to the antagonists.  Roger Ebert, in his Great Movies essay on the movie, shared his fascination with the psychological complexity of Shane, and observed, "Looked at a certain way, the entire story of "Shane" is simply a backdrop against which the hero can play out his own personal repression and remorse" and "Shane is so quiet, so inward, so narcissistic in his silent withdrawing from ordinary exchanges, that he always seems to be playing a role.  A role in which he withholds his violent abilities as long as he can, and then places himself in a situation where he is condemned to use them, after which he will ride on, lonely, to the next town."

There is beauty in portrayal of the chaste relationship between Shane and Marian.  Not a single word or touch passes between them beyond what is necessary, but rather, only looks, and later, motivations for action, can convey the depth of their feelings.  Because of the need to establish their feelings without words, Stevens set up some gorgeous shots of the two of them.  This is one, in two mirror image shots the two contemplate each other:

Marian  (Arthur) and Joey (deWilde) look at Shane from the inside (we see this from Shane's POV)

The mirror image shows Shane's upper body almost ghost-like outside, from Joey's POV

.

The two men working to remove the troublesome stump

Much is made, and rightly so, of the relationship between Shane and young Joey, but I'd like to highlight the kinship that forms between Shane and Joe Starrett, played warmly and affably by Van Heflin, which comes to life mostly with looks and actions. The two men are bonded in work, in family, and in mission against the antagonistic ranchers. Early on, Shane takes it upon himself to start chopping away at a tree stump that has been in a troublesome location on the homestead. Starrett joins him and the two men succeed, together, in accomplishing this goal, with almost no dialogue.  Later the two men join forces with their fists against the enemy mob -- there is a great shot where the two glance at each other with broad smiles as the tide of the brawl begins to turn their way, but only as a result of their teamwork.  When Shane rides away at the end of the film, we are sad that his relationships with all three Starretts, young Joey, Marian, and Joe, will now be relegated to the past.

A brief moment to relish their teamwork during the big brawl

The familial relationships among the Starretts, and the strength of the relationships among the settlers in the valley, are similarly established with expert understatement, but are felt strongly by the audience, especially in contrast to the unease and wariness between the families and the ranching cohort.

The Message
On the surface the plot of Shane pits the 'good guys' vs. 'bad guys' and conflict is resolved by intimidation, fists, and then guns, in conventional Western fashion.  But rather than glorifying the use of weapons or violence, the film surprises in that it is arguably an elegy for the inability of humans to find other solutions.  Director Stevens experienced guns in war during his time in WWII, and came back disturbed that afterward German children idolized American soldiers and cowboys with their rampant gunplay.  He said about this film "I wanted to show that a .45, if you pull directly in a man's direction, you destroy an upright figure....we wanted to indicate the violence of the West for what it was.... (the film) was a Western, but it was really my war picture.  When you ask a man to fight and to take a life, you not only ask him to risk his own life but you ask him to make a great sacrifice of his moral ideals." (1)
A bit of dialogue illustrates this:

Marian Starrett: Guns aren't going to be my boy's life!

Shane: A gun is a tool, Marian; no better or no worse than any other tool: an axe, a shovel or anything. A gun is as good or as bad as the man using it. Remember that.

Marian Starrett: We'd all be much better off if there wasn't a single gun left in this valley - including yours.

near the end of the film...

Shane (to Joey):  Tell your mother...that there aren't any more guns in the valley.

I attribute my enjoyment of Shane to the beauty inherent in so many elements of its film-making.  Others have called it poetic --perhaps a different way of naming the concept--, notably Woody Allen, for whom it is a favorite film.  He said about the film: ''If you were asking me, I would say that 'Shane' achieves a certain poetry ...for whatever reason, probably because Stevens himself had some of the poet in him.'' (4)  Still others find many other reasons to connect with the film, and perhaps it leaves others flat.  I just know that I'm thrilled to have discovered it, and mark it among my growing list of favorites on this classic film journey of discovery.

Director George Stevens (center) with his actors Ladd and Heflin

Ladd, Arthur and Heflin on set

Shane will air on TCM on Sat., April 2nd at 8:00 PM Eastern.

Numbered References:
(1) Mary Ann Moss, Giant:  George Stevens, a Life on Film;  (2) Timothy E. Scheurer, Music and Mythmaking in film: Genre and the Role of the Composer; (3) Marilyn McHenry & Ron DeSourdis, The Films of Alan Ladd; (4) Woody Allen on Shane: NY Times Article by Rick Hyman, Aug 3, 2001.