The Western: The Neutral Zone Between Wilderness and Civilization
Kato Mikiro
The Renaissance of the Western |
The Pure Americans |
The History of the PC Westerns |
The Unforgiven Gun Control |
The Renaissance
of the Western
The Western cinema is like a genre once sentenced
to death. It was the most prosperous genre before and after the
advent of sound; in 1925 and 1935, it was at its peak. The western
was in decline in the 1940s and the 1950s, although it still fared
well: 108 Westerns were made in the year 1952. It hit its lowest
ebb, however, in the 1960s and 70s. In 1977 (a quarter of a century
after 1952), there were only seven Western films . The genre was,
as it were, near death in the 1970s and finally listed in the
obituary columns in the 1980s. Curiously enough, though, it has
made a successful comeback coinciding with the coming of the 1990s.
Since then, several major Western films have
been produced:
1. Dances with Wolves (director: Kevin Costner,
1990)
2. Unforgiven (director: Clint Eastwood, 1992)
3. The Last of the Mohicans (director: Michael
Mann, 1992)
4. Posse (director: Mario van Peebles, 1992)
5. The Last Outlaw (director: Geoff Murphy, 1993)
6. Geronimo: An American Legend (director: Walter
Hill, 1994)
7. Maverick (director: Richard Donner, 1994)
8. Wyatt Earp (director: Lawrence Kasdan, 1994)
9. Tombstone (director: George P. Cosmatos, 1994)
10. Bad Girls (director: Jonathan Kaplan, 1994)
The above list is a mixture of the good and
the bad, but it should be noted that most of these films relished
commercial and critical success. For instance, the first three
films won nearly ten Academy Awards in total, including Best Picture
and Best Director.
In the seventy-year-long history of the Academy, the Western has entered the spotlight at long last. Dances With Wolves was the first film in the genre to win the Best Picture Oscar in sixty years; no other film had won the award since Cimarron (director: Wesley Ruggles, 1930/1931), the first Western to do so. Furthermore, Kevin Costner was the first to win Best Director in this particular genre. We were to see a repetition of this miracle two years later with Unforgiven. Looking back on the history of the Western, it was, indeed, a miracle. Even John Ford, the great director called Ôthe God of the American Western,Õ was awarded neither Best Director nor Best Picture for his Westerns. The 1990s, therefore, should be remembered for the outstanding comeback of the Western. It is not too much to call it the Renaissance of the Western.
The Pure Americans
I refer here to the history of the Academy as a
preliminary to discussing the Western in terms of its political
revision or amendment. The AcademyÕs judgment, in a broad sense,
has been in fact colored by political preference. The films listed
above can be considered as Ôpolitically correct.Õ
Films were originally regarded as transient products.
They were shown in the theater for only a short period before
they were replaced by brand-new ones. Naturally, films slipped
from the memories of most spectators with the exception of a few
ardent film fans. There was actually no trace remaining of any
film in the community. Under these circumstances, people came
to organize institutions for the purpose of establishing American
cinema within the history of the community: the Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences, film archives, and departments of film
& TV studies in universities. Among them, the Academy Awards
have functioned to politically judge films, the winning of Oscars
denoting that the film is politically correct. The Westerns which
have treated black Americans, Indians, and women cruelly, thus,
have always been left out of the selection. In other words, the
Academy, throughout its history, had not publicized the social
injustices committed by the Western in terms of gender and race.
It might have been, in a sense, a sensation that the Western,
Dances With Wolves, won both the Best Director and the Best Picture
Oscars for the first time in the Academy history. In reality,
however, the selection simply reflected social conditions of the
early 1990s, when people became aware of the unfair issues of
the past. The Oscars the film won signify that the Academy merely
added the Western to their PC (politically correct) category.
Regrettably, it does not mean that the film was a faithful record
of history.
When the production staff of Dances With Wolves
launched its advertisement campaign, they placed great emphasis
on the point that the film precisely portrayed the lives of Native
Americans. The film allegedly adopted a Native American language
on a scale unprecedented in the history of the Western. (In Hollywood,
they no longer called them ÔIndians,Õ but ÔNative Americans,Õ
a change in name which also reveals this political revision.)
Dances With Wolves actually won the favor of some
Native American activists, including one whom I came across in
California in 1990. He, from an ÔexpertÕsÕ point of view, regarded
the film with the greatest admiration due to its accuracy in every
detail, e.g., language, customs, and manners. His esteem for the
film was spontaneous as well as strategic, since he expected that
it would give an impetus to his own movement. He was planning
to distribute an independent production (anti-Hollywood Western)
film which dealt with genuine Native Americans throughout the
state of California at the time. He wished to appeal to the American
public to recognize the identity crisis they had undergone. On
the other hand, some people strongly criticized the film for having
failed to represent Native Americans, just like other Westerns
which had given a distorted account of Indian culture.
The main point here is the fact that Native Americans
have strategically used and criticized Westerns for as many years
as the history of the cinema. In order to protect their own identities
as Native Americans, that is all they have been able to do and
nothing more. They still have very little voice in the political,
cultural, and financial decisions of the United States.
The narrative films in which capital makes major
investments are meant to depict whatever the community believes
is correct. In the case of Hollywood cinema, whether it is correct
or not is up to the decision of the majority. Consequently, what
they consider is correct always reflects their political judgment,
whereby they can turn a deaf ear to the opinions of the minority.
Dances With Wolves, accordingly, was not an exception
but rather a logical extension of the Hollywood system explained
above. Even before the film, many Western filmmakers alleged that
their films were politically correct. For instance, D. W. Griffith,
the director who was called variously, Ôthe father of film technique,Õ
Ôthe man who invented Hollywood,Õ and Ôthe cinemaÕs first auteur.Õ
Griffith directed more than 74 Westerns at the American Biograph
Company from 1908 to 1912. He had some of the titles supplemented
with sentences stating that the films had adopted genuine Indian
customs. The advertisement campaign for Dances With Wolves was
only a repetition of a proviso made eighty years before the film.
The majority of Western filmmakers, in fact, have made a point
of professing realism and genuineness, while in fact making films
that were far from the empirical truth for all their bold announcements
-- as in the case of Dances With Wolves.
The revisionist Westerns certainly regard the Native
AmericansÕ intelligence and culture highly. Nevertheless, none
of the filmmakers present the dark side of the history of white
Americans, the empirical truth that their ancestors committed
genocide upon the innocent Native Americans, such that approximately
three quarters of the whole population were massacred. The Native
AmericansÕ customs and long tradition were forced to an end, which
recalls, to some degree, the Nazi Holocaust in the Second World
War. As a matter of fact, the Western cinema has been a coherent
mythology of the white Europeans in America, not of the Native
Americans. The Hollywood visions of the past does not need to
conform to facts, and this is what has established the Western
genre. The American Indians have been exploited, not only in reality
but also at the symbolic level, as embodied by another PC Western,
Geronimo: An American Legend (director: Walter Hill, 1994).
The History of
the PC Westerns
Before I make an analysis of these Westerns, I
would like to refer to the history of the so-called PC (politically
correct) Westerns. This particular history
is also the history of films against racial discrimination, and
equally, of the leftist filmmakers in Hollywood. In the history of the PC Westerns, Broken Arrow (director:
Delmer Daves, 1950) and DevilÕs Doorway (director: Anthony Mann,
1949) should be remembered as the first page. The former was initially
Joseph LoseyÕs project and Albert Maltz was in charge of the script.
Nonetheless, they were left out of the staff when the film was
completed. Owing to anti-Communist hysteria created and exploited
by HUAC (the House Committee on Un-American Activities) in the
1950s, they and other distinguished filmmakers were fired by the
studios and no longer permitted to work in Hollywood. Among them
was a most talented director, Abraham Polonsky. He was made to
live in obscurity for years until he directed a PC Western, Tell
Them Willie Boy Is Here (1969), with which he finally made a successful
comeback. The history of the PC Westerns, therefore, reveals another
suppressive aspect of Hollywood besides its ill treatment of Indians.
Broken Arrow was, afterwards, drastically changed
by Darryl F. Zanuck (the ambitious Twentieth Century-Fox executive
producer) into a romantic action film. Its sentimental overtones
remind us of a Western masterpiece, The Last of the Mohicans (director:
Maurice Tourneur and Clarence Brown, 1920). The film was first
planned as a postwar Ôsocial-consciousnessÕ picture, dealing with
the marriage between a white American (James Stewart) and an Apache
woman. The result symbolized nothing but a Hollywood fantasy,
as typified by their wedding and first night sequence.
On the second page of PC Western history, John
Ford, the most prominent director in the genre, should stand out.
He directed Cheyenne Autumn (1964), a saga in which each individual
episode was smoothly linked by means of the symbolic act of smoking
a cigarette. The film described the pitiful Indians suffering
discrimination from the egoistic policies of white Americans.
It was a complete reversal of FordÕs attitude toward Indians.
The Indians whom he had depicted in most of his Westerns were
bloodthirsty devils, what some called ÔHollywood Indians.Õ Some
critics, consequently, consider Cheyenne Autumn a notable exception,
whereby the auteur made amends for the past. Ironically, the characterization
in the film was rather dull: neither the white Americans nor the
Indians were portrayed with much depth, just like in the biopic
film, They Died with Their Boots On (director: Raoul Walsh, 1941).
The prosaic Indians are hardly distinct from the ones in Drums
Along the Mohawk (director: John Ford, 1939). If Ford really aimed
to honor the Indians, he should have referred to his past film,
Fort Apache (1948), in which the Indians justifiably kill the
U.S. Cavalry troops. These Indians, however cruel, performed brilliantly.
It is not fair enough, of course, only to praise
blindly the Native AmericansÕ nobility. Nevertheless, the third
page of PC Western history is filled with these kind of self-complacent
films, as represented by Dances With Wolves.
The first example should be A Man Called Horse
(director: Eliot Silverstein, 1970). The film was made in the
period called the New American Cinema. From the late 1960s to
the early 1970s, a spate of low-budget youth culture films, such
as Easy Rider (director: Dennis Hopper, 1969), were distributed,
which created anti-establishment heroes.
In A Man Called Horse, the Indians were characterized
as noble and generous savages, in compliance with the worn-out
concept made up by white Westerners. It was a story of generosity,
dignity, and despair: a European man of noble birth (Richard Harris)
traveled to America for hunting and suffered hardships, so as
to form lasting mutual trust with the Ônoble barbarians.Õ In the
film, the Siou did not speak English but Siou, a practice Dances
With Wolves later followed. In addition, their way of living was
manifested a lot more precisely than in Run of the Arrow (director:
Samuel Fuller, 1957). The realism, however, had a sentimental
inclination which patronizingly glorified the Indians. The filmmakers
had neither the intention nor the courage to display fully the
history of the Native AmericansÕ lives. There are differing views
about the degree of accuracy of even this cultural anthropological
Ôrealism.Õ That is, the Native Americans appeared authentic to
the spectators who were unfamiliar with their culture, but were
hardly pleasing to the eyes of experts. After all, the mutual
trust between the European and the Native American was only plausible
in the perverted process of A Man Called Horse: the white man,
caught and called by the Indians Ôa horse,Õ was required to verify
that he was a human being as well.
In addition to A Man Called Horse, Soldier Blue
(director: Ralph Nelson, 1970) and Little Big Man (director: Arthur
Penn, 1970) were other pro-Native-American films, reacting to
the past and to the Vietnam War (the U.S. militaryÕs massacre
of innocent Asians). In the 1970s, they explicitly denounced the
ferocity of the U.S. Cavalry troops, which marked a considerable
change in the history of the Western. The portrayal of the Native
Americans, though, had not significantly changed: it was still
far from being Ôrealism.Õ
It is nonsense, however, to discuss the quality
of each film in relation to ÔrealityÕ because no kind of Hollywood
film (including the Western), in the first place, aims for a documentary
about minorities, Native/black/Asian Americans, or even women
and children. There is no sign of Ôtruthfulness,Õ but at best
political revision or amendment.
In other words, obvious in the Hollywood film is
the pragmatic structure of the cinema, not veracity, and this
is the central issue of this chapter. It is absurd to question
how faithful a film is to empirical truth. Most important is to
be aware of the reality of the cinema itself (the structure and
history of the system), not the reality-like world that the cinema
presents. The reality of the cinema is a representational system
recreating a Ôreality,Õ so that there is no point in discussing
the degree of realism on the screen. If ÔrealismÕ is a top priority
for you, you should not go to the cinema but to actual places
and people. Nonetheless, you might like to go to the cinema. In
that case, you should figure out the reality of the film, not
the reality projected on the screen.
From the above point of view, the following essay
will make an analysis of the texture of each film, in order to
define the Western, the representative genre of the American cinema.
The Unforgiven
Gun Control
Unforgiven, which was highly regarded and monopolized
most of the Academy Awards in 1992, including the Best Director
and the Best Picture prizes, also originated from political amendment:
its winning owed a great deal to the PC boom. Actually, Pale Rider
(director: Clint Eastwood, 1985) was more deserving of the Oscar
than Unforgiven in terms of the quality of the film (its reality).
Unforgiven spotlighted those people discriminated
in terms of race and gender, which had been EastwoodÕs direction
since The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976). In Unforgiven, as the subject
of political amendment, Eastwood selected a black gunman, Indian
women, and white American prostitutes, all of whom had been treated
unjustly in past Westerns.
As exemplified by Stagecoach (director: John Ford,
1939), prostitutes had been manifested as nothing but contemptible
creatures. They had been devoid of speech and none of the shots
had ever employed their viewpoints. Half a century after the film,
however, Unforgiven displayed a complete reversal: the prostitutes
were no longer patient, but vigorously protested against the patriarchal
community which unfairly despised them. The reversal is worthy
of remembrance. Nonetheless, this unprecedented characterization
became possible more as a result of social and political pressure
rather than the directorÕs spontaneity (as in the case of Bad
Girls [director: Jonathan Kaplan, 1994], a tedious Hollywood film
which depicted prostitutes in revolt against men).
Another social and political pressure apparent
in Unforgiven was gun control. In 1987, just before the production
phase of the film started, a gun control bill called the ÔBrady
BillÕ was introduced in Congress. The Brady Bill was named after
James Brady, the Presidential Press Secretary who was involved
and critically injured in the attempted assassination of President
Reagan in 1981. (President Reagan, whom the assassin targeted,
survived all right, an event which reminds us of his acting career:
he had always saved himself from a bullet wound in numerous Westerns
and war films.)
Clint Eastwood, who directed and starred in Unforgiven,
had been well-known for his performance in a series of ÔDirty
HarryÕ films from the 1970s to the 1980s: Dirty Harry (director:
Donald Siegel, 1971), Magnum Force (director: Ted Post, 1973),
The Enforcer (director: James Fargo, 1976), Sudden Impact (director:
Clint Eastwood, 1983), and The Dead Pool (director: Buddy Van
Horn, 1988). Dirty Harry was the detective whose role was a sort
of judge and executioner; the inference was that the films were
against gun control. If the law forbade the possession of a gun,
they insinuated, the American people would not be able to maintain
their own ethic. This political and ethical message was consistently
conveyed through Dirty Harry and even reinforced in Unforgiven.
The Hollywood Western cinema has been established
on an extreme ideology: if some unreasonable violence befell you,
you could justifiably eliminate it. Its logic became naturally
representative of the largest American pressure group, the NRA
(National Rifle Association), in the 1980s. Strongly against the
radical Brady Bill, the NRA insisted on the prompt distribution
of guns as the most effective way of self-defense. In the United
States, more than sixty innocent people are gunned down by criminals
every day.
In Unforgiven, Clint Eastwood came to a small town
in the West, where the possession of a gun was strictly forbidden.
This all-out gun control framed the story of the film, and was
unusual in the history of the Hollywood cinema. In a small community
of the West, however, it was not rare that people created self-imposed
restrictions on guns. Eastwood, playing a solitary professional
gunman, shot a white sheriff to death, in revenge for his torturous
and abusive treatment of the black gunman and the prostitutes.
Eastwood, afterward, left the terrified residents and disappeared
into the heavy rain. The white sheriff, who had advocated gun
control for his own profit, lay dead holding a gun, the so-called
peace-maker. In the ending of the film, it was obvious that no
one would ever come out in support of gun control in the community.
A slightly altered Japanese version of this paper was published in "Eiga Janru Ron" (Heibonsha, 1996).