Happy New Year!

2008 has got to be better! I can't say 2007 was the worst year of my life, but I can defiantly say it's been the worst year of this century.

On John Ford Western Films.

I flipped on the tube last night and was confronted with the film "Fort Apache".
It’s just my opinion, of course, but I don’t care for the western films of John Ford. As a filmmaker he had a stylized view of a non existent west where everything that happened, happened in Monument Valley. Travelers in this pretend wilderness had just a canteen and saddle bags on their horses. There were no pack horses, no food, no frying pan, not even a bag of oats for the horses. Their campfires, in Monument Valley, where there are no large trees, were made up of cut logs, despite the lack of an axe or saw and a coffee pot somehow appeared out of nowhere at sunrise. These points may seem nitpicking and I’ve heard the Ford apologist, like Peter Bogdanovich, say, if you’re caught up in the action and the drama these things don’t really matter. Well, when I was an impressionable little boy, most likely in my life to be caught up in a good story, I and my buddies laughed at “Stagecoach.” To us the idea that not one of the fifty plus armed Indians chasing the stagecoach would think to stop it by shooting one of the running draft horses, was just plain stupid. We chuckled as we counted the shots fired by the eight shooter pistols and John Wayne’s seventeen shot Winchester; a 30-30, by the way, that had yet to be invented at the time of the story. The one saving grace was the Duke’s use of the rifle, instead of a pistol, in the final shootout with Luke Plumber and his brothers.

A much better stagecoach drama is the film adaptation of Elmore Leonard’s gritty novel, “Hombre.” The central character, played by Paul Newman, is a white man raised by Apaches, who also uses a rifle, a ’73 Winchester that fits the period and the lack of provisions out in the wild is a fulcrum in the screen play. It’s not perfect but most of the flaws, like the graded automobile roads, are small. The one major flaw is the obligatory final quick draw shootout at the end.

Students of real western history point out that there were only two documented face to face street shootouts in the west. The first in Kansas where the two men were so close together the muzzle-flash from one of their cap and ball pistols lighted the other guy’s shirt on fire. The second, of course, took place in Tombstone Arizona at the OK Corral.

In John Ford’s film, “My Darling Clementine”, Henry Fonda plays a thoughtful, peace loving Wyatt Earp and a robust Victor Mature is miscast as the tuberculosis riddled alcoholic Doc Holiday. Further more, Tombstone is not only moved four hundred miles north to Monument Valley, the OK Corral is at the outskirts of town and is made up of rail fences. Even cursory students of the event know that the real OK Corral was, and still is, just a narrow alleyway between buildings in the center of town, where you could tie up your horse.

A better and more accurate telling of the Tombstone saga is Kevin Costner’s “Wyatt Earp”. There the gunfight is portrayed close to history and the cold hearted, vicious, revenge driven Wyatt Earp, portrayed by Costner, is closer to the real person, as is Dennis Quaid’s hacking performance as the sickly Doc Holiday.

I’m not saying John Ford was a bad filmmaker. On the contrary, “How Green was My Valley”, “The Grapes of Wrath” and “Mr. Roberts”, to mention just three, are some of the best films ever made. And, truthfully, his many black and white panoramas of Monument Valley, over several films, are true examples of cinematic art. I’m just saying that with a little more attention to detail they could have better, much better; greatness is in the details.

The one true great western ever made; the one with a heroic story, vivid action, towering performances and close attention to the smallest details is the television miniseries, “Lonesome Dove.” Now that…is a western!

The Pottery Barn rule:

That a house rule for a crockery store is a reasonable analogy for occupying Iraq is absurd. I went to a Pottery Barn once and because they made a practice of stacking their wares in the isles, I bumped something and it fell and broke. The man behind the counter said, “You’ll have to pay for that.” I asked why. He pointed to a sign on the wall that said, “You break it – you buy it.” The man said, “That’s our policy.” I said, “Well, it’s not my policy and I’m not paying you.” The man pointed to the door and said, “Then get out of our store.” And I solved my Pottery Barn problem the same way we can solve our Iraq problem; by leaving.

My Christmas Poem.

Oh Christmas – Oh Christmas,
Oh happy joy!
For each and every,
Girl and boy!

There are gifts,
All shinny and new.
Wrapped and bowed,
And though just a few,
They’re given with joy,
For each and every,
Girl and boy!

Brand new clothes,
And pretty dolls abound,
There’s even race cars,
To roll around.

And yet,
Beyond a toy,
There’s more,
For each and every,
Girl and boy!

The table waits,
With delicious reverie;
On matching plates,
For each and every,
Girl and boy!

There’s roasted turkey,
Potatoes mashed with gravy,
Cranberry sauce tart and perky,
And bread stuffing most savory.

Oh Christmas – Oh Christmas,
All is done without bother
With gentle love and joy,
By mother and father,
For each and every,
Girl and boy!