Westerns were something I grew up with as a kid, always on TV, seen but not watched, of course, because how the hell would a kid appreciate the art of the Western? The story, morality, characterisation, historical significance of Hollywood concoctions? Never mind the misrepresentation of 'Indians'. I tell you, they scared the hell out of me, just as they were supposed to scare everyone. I had the horrors for ages that those evil Injuns whooping it up, dancing around campfires and sneakily firing arrows through a cowboy's chest - silently! - thwack! Suddenly the arrow head is sticking out of his chest! As a precursor to the horror of the alien erupting from John Hurt's stomach it was pretty potent. "Leave the hall light on, Mum!" I used to imagine feeling the blade as they removed my fresh, youthful locks! I had a vivid imagination. I suppose most kids do.
We were both home the other day when 3:10 to Yuma came on the telly. Ah, the classic! I'd never seen it but I was soon hooked not, perhaps, for reasons most people are. I stared amazed at the framing. I mean, 10 stills from this film, blown up, would look like great art in a gallery. Richard Prince eat your heart out. Then there's Glen Ford. Glen Ford acting like James Dean, so I thought as I watched. Not that he was playing a troubled soul, more the attitude. OK, perhaps not James Dean, but Marlon Brando? What I mean is that wry smile he wears for most of the film. His totally casual stance faced with the rope. "Fuck you" he seems to be saying. The kid just doesn't care! Not that he's a kid, but what I'm trying to get at is the rock'n'roll attitude he adopts. Perfect anti-hero. The way he wears that stetson. The good guy tasked with seeing him onto the train looks, by comparison, like a wuss, a caring, morality-bound square!
Hell of a film.
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| RTomens, 2020 |
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