ron101346
Joined Apr 2004
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ron101346's rating
The Searchers is in the cannon of great westerns and rated (not by me) as the best John Wayne film, but I must lodge a minority opinion and state that it is over-rated. I admit that I am using current, not contemporary standards, but lasting quality is the mark of a great film, yes? First, what is indisputable is the magnificent cinematography and setting of the film: Monument Valley will never be as well photographed as it was in Technicolor and VistaVision (A superior wide screen process that preserved high definition even in the wide format).
Like most wide screen movies, however, the drama tends to be diluted by the scenery. Even Director John Ford seems overwhelmed by the panorama, so that there are precious few moments of dramatic tension; instead, he resorts to too many gratuitous chases and gunfights to fill the frame (and waste the viewer's time).
Another criticism (albeit coming from a world view 50 years after the film was made) is that the theme that "Indians are bad, settlers are good" is stilted and contrary to the truth. In fact, the obsessive killing of Indians and taking of their land accelerated with the end of the Civil War (the time of this picture) so that their aggression is entirely justified from the Indians' point of view.
And, while we're at it, it is almost comical (and disrespectful of the Indians) to use a mishmash of contract players and just a handful of real Indians (none of whom were in the main roles). I got an especial laugh out of Chief Scar who was obviously a white man with dark makeup--and with a 1950's pompadour hairdo no less! When one wants to show the real heroism of the Western frontier, it is better to show how law and order conquered the white man (such as in "Shane" and "High Noon"), not how the white man decimated the Indians.
Ron Levine Philly
Like most wide screen movies, however, the drama tends to be diluted by the scenery. Even Director John Ford seems overwhelmed by the panorama, so that there are precious few moments of dramatic tension; instead, he resorts to too many gratuitous chases and gunfights to fill the frame (and waste the viewer's time).
Another criticism (albeit coming from a world view 50 years after the film was made) is that the theme that "Indians are bad, settlers are good" is stilted and contrary to the truth. In fact, the obsessive killing of Indians and taking of their land accelerated with the end of the Civil War (the time of this picture) so that their aggression is entirely justified from the Indians' point of view.
And, while we're at it, it is almost comical (and disrespectful of the Indians) to use a mishmash of contract players and just a handful of real Indians (none of whom were in the main roles). I got an especial laugh out of Chief Scar who was obviously a white man with dark makeup--and with a 1950's pompadour hairdo no less! When one wants to show the real heroism of the Western frontier, it is better to show how law and order conquered the white man (such as in "Shane" and "High Noon"), not how the white man decimated the Indians.
Ron Levine Philly
Unfortunately, the colossal failure of the 1963 Cleopatra has overshadowed the less opulent but superior 1934 version. In his obsession to throw money at the production to assure its success, Joseph Mankiewicz nearly bankrupted 20th Century Fox and, along the way, seemed to forget the fundamental elements of good movie-making. By contrast, in the Great Depression of the early 1930s, Paramount Studios were already near receivership, so Cecil DeMille was put in the unusual position of having to create an epic with great economy: this meant focusing on the story, demanding great acting and creating a high style within the budget that he had.
To some degree he was abetted by the old-style Academy frame, which allowed DeMille to fill the screen with just a few beautifully designed sets (the throne room, the barge); in contrast, the Mankiewicz version seemed always to struggle with how the fill the Cinemascope screen, especially for the interior shots—there was always a vastness that diminished the actors and the acting (this is a common weakness of Cinemascope—great for landscapes, poor for intimacy).
De Mille has been much criticized for the 1930s anachronistic dialog, but in truth, no version of Cleopatra on screen or on the stage has ever used contemporary 1st-Century BC Latin or even a rough translation of it! Even the revered Shakespeare's Anthony and Cleopatra was written in Early Modern English. And who is to say that the vulgar Latin (the form of Latin used in every-day ancient speech rather than the formal Latin used in the Roman Senate) is any different from what DeMille used in his version? Some economies were obvious: in particular, the battle scenes were just montages taken from several of DeMille's earlier films, but interestingly, DeMille filmed the abduction sequence on location—this, during an era that always filmed these kinds of scenes in the studio with rear projection. But by putting his few dollars into the scene that focused on Cleopatra's vulnerability and loss of control, DeMille both heightened the drama early in the picture and magnified the viewer's interest in her later fate.
Countering the economy were many riches. The barge scene is justifiably placed in many anthologies of great motion picture moments, but what makes it so special is that it is a rare case where silent movie sensibility has been transformed intact into the sound era. DeMille had directed in both eras and he, among the few of his time, was able to preserve the visual richness and choreographed motion of the silent era and make it work in a talking picture. Another example of that exotic visual sense is the breathtaking opening and closing credits: the picture begins with the symbolic opening of the walls of an Egyptian tomb and the picture ends with the tomb closing upon Cleopatra with that same symbolism. All of this is accompanied by Rudolph Kopp's wonderful score that is uniquely (and dramatically appropriately) languid and sorrowful, rather than triumphant and bombastic as would be the case in most other costume dramas.
I won't repeat the comments made about the superb work that Claudette Colbert did here (and so different from that other masterpiece she made "It Happened One Night" in the same year!) Her work was so erotic and sensual, I wonder if some scenes were cut since the Production Code was passed during Cleopatra's production? Bottomline: See this film, appreciate its rare and now lost artistry, and recommend it to others.
Ron Levine
To some degree he was abetted by the old-style Academy frame, which allowed DeMille to fill the screen with just a few beautifully designed sets (the throne room, the barge); in contrast, the Mankiewicz version seemed always to struggle with how the fill the Cinemascope screen, especially for the interior shots—there was always a vastness that diminished the actors and the acting (this is a common weakness of Cinemascope—great for landscapes, poor for intimacy).
De Mille has been much criticized for the 1930s anachronistic dialog, but in truth, no version of Cleopatra on screen or on the stage has ever used contemporary 1st-Century BC Latin or even a rough translation of it! Even the revered Shakespeare's Anthony and Cleopatra was written in Early Modern English. And who is to say that the vulgar Latin (the form of Latin used in every-day ancient speech rather than the formal Latin used in the Roman Senate) is any different from what DeMille used in his version? Some economies were obvious: in particular, the battle scenes were just montages taken from several of DeMille's earlier films, but interestingly, DeMille filmed the abduction sequence on location—this, during an era that always filmed these kinds of scenes in the studio with rear projection. But by putting his few dollars into the scene that focused on Cleopatra's vulnerability and loss of control, DeMille both heightened the drama early in the picture and magnified the viewer's interest in her later fate.
Countering the economy were many riches. The barge scene is justifiably placed in many anthologies of great motion picture moments, but what makes it so special is that it is a rare case where silent movie sensibility has been transformed intact into the sound era. DeMille had directed in both eras and he, among the few of his time, was able to preserve the visual richness and choreographed motion of the silent era and make it work in a talking picture. Another example of that exotic visual sense is the breathtaking opening and closing credits: the picture begins with the symbolic opening of the walls of an Egyptian tomb and the picture ends with the tomb closing upon Cleopatra with that same symbolism. All of this is accompanied by Rudolph Kopp's wonderful score that is uniquely (and dramatically appropriately) languid and sorrowful, rather than triumphant and bombastic as would be the case in most other costume dramas.
I won't repeat the comments made about the superb work that Claudette Colbert did here (and so different from that other masterpiece she made "It Happened One Night" in the same year!) Her work was so erotic and sensual, I wonder if some scenes were cut since the Production Code was passed during Cleopatra's production? Bottomline: See this film, appreciate its rare and now lost artistry, and recommend it to others.
Ron Levine
