FILM REVIEW - Rio Bravo...

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Rio Bravo is, in my opinion, the best western ever made, and one of the greatest character studies. What it lacks in force and spectacle it makes up for in an impeccable study of male camaraderie. While The Searchers, another great western, connects the wild, vast, infinite landscape of the west to the wild, obsessive, bitter Ethan Edwards and to a lost age in Western civilization, Rio Bravo restricts it's setting to a small western town and it's cosy yet claustrophobic interiors. The story concerns three men of law (John Wayne, Dean Martin and Walter Brennan) and a young-gun (Ricky Nelson), who find their quiet lives interrupted by the acts of a despicable murderer (Claude Atkins), whose arrest attracts the attention of his brother, a local rancher who plans to use any means neccessary to break his brother free. They must hold them off until the marshall arrives. So the relationships of the men are put to the test, not just by criminals, but by weaknesses (age, alcoholism, naivety) and of course women...

The performances are impeccable; Hawks, always great with actors, made John Wayne appear weak but very human and tender as few directors could, and Walter Brennan gives a strong and comic performance as the ageing, insecure but feisty Stumpy. Dean Martin is pitiful but funny and strong as the pathetic, broken-hearted alcoholic. Ricky Nelson is Ricky Nelson, but he fits in perfectly as a young gunslinger, and Hawks couldn't resist giving us a musical number. There is something profound in the way these men interact, in the way tensions increase inside and outside. Hawks filmed them with a restrained, strolling, casual camera, capturing the inner-feelings of these men in a simple and natural manner. The more one watches it though, the more an expressive directorial power is evident. There are very few close-ups in the film, but they're used to express the simplest yet most quietly profound things; a man-rolling a cigarette, a man whose shakes are cured. It's certainly not all about men though. When John T. Chance ventures away from the cosy and gruff male surroundings of the jail he is confronted with many threats; bandits, murderers, and women. Angie Dickinson plays "Feathers," an entertainer at the local bar who takes a liking to him as he keeps an eye on the gambling. They have wonderful chemistry together, particularly in a scene in which Dickinson is getting dressed (erotica anyone?) and the two casually discuss their lives, trying to keep hidden the forces of attraction at work. So each character has a weakness, women, girls, alcohol, and age, trying to hold on to their dignity and honour even if it means risking their lives. Bravery is another theme the film explores, each character has to overcome their flaws and prove themselves; Brennan shows that despite his age he can still put up a fight, Martin cures his alcoholism, Wayne finds love, and Nelson learns a thing or two.

Hawks, not usually discussed when it comes to "technique" was undoubtedly a masterful visual storyteller. The entire opening of the film is dialogue free; only gestures and expressions are filmed. In a bar a dirty, torn-up Martin wanders a bar looking for some way of buying beer. Eventually a man (the murderer) tosses a coin into a spittoon. As Martin crouches to retrieve it the spittoon is kicked away and there is revealed Wayne, towering over him, a look of pity, disgust and sadness on his face. This scene alone is evidence of the seldom admitted or realised expressive mastery of Hawks' direction. But Hawks (in some ways humble, not in others), successfully keeps any "direction" invisible to the casual viewer, and so we are totally enveloped in the story. His style is quiet, subdued, lethargic, but observant and quite deliberate. The film ends on a note of acceptance and contentment, as each character, having proven themselves, go on with their lives...a great film about life, love, and masculinity...as David Thomson said; a man is more expressive rolling a cigarette than saving the world...