There are westerns with greater size and scope (The Searchers). There
are westerns that are more taut and suspenseful (High Noon). There are westerns
that are more pure (Seven Men From Now) and filled with more psychological
depth (The Naked Spur). But there is no other western that is as emotionally
resonant as Shane. Weaving throughout its running time is a point of view of a
young boy, perhaps not so dissimilar from young boys over the last 150 years or
so, brought up first on dime novels and cheap western stories and then
eventually silent films and the boom of Hollywood cinema, pushing a brand of
western and selling a mythology that continued to further the daydreams of
millions of youth across this nation. I too fall into that group. I can
remember playing in the backyard with my brother when we were kids growing up
in the 80’s. Inevitably we would end up playing cowboys and Indians or some
sort of old west themed adventure, utilizing things we’d picked up in movies,
tv, and books in order to build a repertoire of dialogue and action, that in
our minds resembled some sort of reality, when in fact we were recalling a
western mythology, and even though this mythology has basis in reality, it
became larger than life through stories and lore that were told and retold
generation upon generation. Shane is in fact a film about the mythology itself,
taking an examination of our western hero worship and adding incredibly rich
layers of emotion which remain remarkably effective in their ability to maintain
an honest sweep, unchallenged by any other film in the genre, with everything
seemingly put together to achieve a definitive emotional arc.
Taking Jack Shaeffer’s popular novel Shane from 1949 and improving it
for the screen, was director George Stevens. The plot actually resembles stories
of chivalrous knights in shining armor, roaming the countryside in search of people
in need of help. Shane begins at this sort of moment, as a lone gunfighter
rides down from the mountains into a valley, where a young boy named Joey
Starrett (Brandon De Wilde) is watching him from his family’s farm. Shane meets
Joey, and his parents, Joe (Van Heflin) and Marian (Jean Arthur), but before he
can be properly welcomed, Joe mistakes him for being part of the Ryker gang, a
group of bullies who happen to arrive to Joe’s claim moments later. They charge
that the Starret’s land belongs to them. Joe nearly runs Shane off his land.
But, Shane senses trouble, hanging around the back of the house as the Rykers
catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger and ride off. Joe realizes his mistake
and invites Shane to stay for dinner, and soon asks Shane to stay on as hired
help. From the word go, young Joey and Marian are in love with Shane: Joey,
idolizing his gun and mannerisms and Marian showing off for Shane, bringing out
her fanciest china for dessert and enlivening her femininity. It’s not long before
Shane becomes a family favorite and entrenched in the local atmosphere, trading
in his white buckskin and gun for farm clothes. This attempt at normalcy for
him is continually threatened, as the Rykers to try to push Joe and all the
other homesteaders off the land, finally resorting to hiring a cold-blooded
gunman out of Cheyenne named Jack Wilson (Jack Palance) to do the dirty work. As
one character remarks, “That’s the trouble with this country. There isn’t a
lawman for 100 miles.” Joe is soon prodded to come to town one night to meet with
Ryker, but Shane realizes this is a suicide mission for Joe and comes to grips
with the fact that he’s the only one equipped to save the Starretts and the
other families in the valley, strapping on his gun and white buckskin, heading
into town for a final showdown with Wilson and the Rykers.
Shane has a far
reaching influence upon many western films since it’s creation, providing
inspiration to elements in Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars, and Once Upon a
Time in the West, and in fact Clint Eastwood’s entire career was built upon the
sorts of themes and motifs in Shane (let’s do forget about his awful Pale Rider, a terrible remake of Shane that is often so similar and hokey
as to induce chuckles), especially when we think about everything from High Plains Drifter to Unforgiven. There’s also elements that
can be seen again in Cimino’s excellent Heaven’s
Gate, with the similar Johnson County War as context. What sets Shane apart from all this is the emotional
pull of the film, derived from the homespun point of view of the Starrett
family, and usually by the young boy Joey. He is privy to both the entrance and
exit of our hero Shane, and to many of the critical moments in the film,
particularly the fight in the saloon between Shane and Callaway (Ben Johnson)
where he’s looking from under the saloon door, the brawl between Shane and his
father in their yard, and primarily the final shootout scene between Shane and
Wilson after he has followed Shane from their home all the way into town.
Though he is naïve and trusting, there is a certain innocent and unfiltered
quality to Joey’s portrayal that allows for a great deal of understanding
between the audience and this character. Seeing events through the eyes of a
child creates a significantly different emotional response for the audience, taking
a story that could be rationalized and analyzed and instead making it instinctual
and emotional. It’s not always Joey’s point of view though, as we also regard the
situation from the character of Marian. Played with divine sensitivity and
fragile femininity, Jean Arthur came out of a 5-year retirement to make this
movie for George Stevens and the 52 year-old veteran actress came up with one
of her greatest performances, simultaneously playing the devoted wife, caring
mother, and pining woman who looks at Shane with significant amounts of feeling
which she can barely begin to hold back or express, remaining stuck in the
middle. Her longing is best conveyed when the family has all returned from the
saloon fight and she’s bandaging Joe’s and Shane’s cuts. She leaves the group
to say goodnight to Joey in his room and returns to the main room to find Shane
has gone outside. She watches him from the open door. She turns around to see
her husband….walks over to him and says, “Hold me. Don’t say anything. Just
hold me.” It’s not just we the audience that notice her and Shane could have a
thing together. Ryker mentions to Shane about how lovely Marian is, invoking a
harsh response from Shane. Even Joe at the end of the film relates to Marian he
believes she will be taken care of if he were to die. One of the film’s
significant improvements upon the book is in fact the characterization of
Marian. In the book she is rather flighty and unsubtle. Jean Arthur brings an
authenticity that isn’t present in the book. The loveliest and most tender
moment in the film occurs between Marian and Shane, after Shane has knocked Joe
cold in their fight in the yard outside the house. Joey is tending to his
father after feeling betrayed by his hero for hitting his father with his gun.
Marian comes over to Shane and in their moment together, so much is said by
what is unsaid….
Marion: You were through with gun-fighting?
Shane: I changed my mind.
Marion: Are you doing this just for me?
Shane: For you, Marion - for Joe - and little Joe.
Marion: Then we'll never see you again?
Shane: Never's a long time, ma'am. Tell him, tell him I was sorry.
Marion: No need to tell him that.
At this moment it might appear that Marian will in fact lean in for a
kiss….but Joey calls to his mother, reminding her of her own moral code. She
instead reaches out for a handshake that means so much more than that.
Marion: Please, Shane. Please (and then there’s this long and
beautiful pause)………….. take care of yourself.
Alan Ladd, a rather undersized actor, is actually the perfect choice by
Stevens to play Shane, as the book describes Shane as “not much above medium
height, almost slight in build.” Ladd needs to portray a sort of handsome boyish
quality that would make Joey and Marion attach to him, and also display a quiet
perseverance and calmness. Another improvement upon the book is in fact the character
of Shane. In the book, he’s far more dangerous, mysterious and unpredictable.
Ladd makes him more likable and gentle, allowing the audience to emotionally
invest in his relationships with the
family members, without us questioning his motives. Some
have claimed Shane is out to lay down his guns from the beginning of the film
and seek refuge in community and domesticity. I disagree. It’s only after he
sees the opportunity to stick up for the Starrett family in the face of the
Rykers does he see the need to stay with them. You can also see how he relishes
the opportunity to take Joey’s soda bottle from him to turn it into the bar, as
an opportunity to challenge Callaway to a fight. This is not the action of
someone ready to lay down his fighting spirit. He knows what he’s doing and is
rather charmed by the Starretts, but even he knows there is a destiny at play
here. Many have sensed a Christ-like portrayal and even some have claimed that
Shane dies at the end. I disagree with this reading as well, and even the book
doesn’t go this route. If Stevens wanted to sacrifice him that way, he could
have done it more blatantly.
Jack Wilson (Jack Palance) as the hired gun out of Cheyenne is a larger
than life figure to rival Shane’s back history, forcing Shane into action to
confront an evil only he can defeat. Palance’s portrayal of the archetypal “bad
guy in black” is loaded with mythology and a quiet, focused sense of impending
death, like some grim reaper out to collect souls. Even his entrance for the
first time into the saloon causes a dog to cower away in fear. One of my
favorite moments occurs upon his first visit to the Starrett home as Wilson
gets down from his horse and gets a drink of water. Despite the fact that Shane
is in farm uniform, they eye each other with a certain regard, sizing each
other up, a precursor to their iconic showdown at the end. Their final duel
actually hinges upon Wilson gunning down the rather small character of Torrey
(Elisha Cook Jr.) midway through the film. Wilson understands Torrey is a
“hothead” and knows he can goad him into a draw. He knows once he kills Torrey,
the rest of the homesteaders will begin to get scared and leave the valley.
This dark and somber sequence begins with Torrey and his friend Shipstead riding
into town. Wilson calls to Torrey and asks him to come over to where he’s
sitting by Grafton’s Saloon. Torrey can’t resist the temptation, and he slips
and sloshes through the muddy street to reach Wilson. They both walk parallel
to each other toward Grafton’s saloon…and then stop and face each other, Wilson
taunting Torrey with southern degradations, standing 5 feet above Torrey who’s
at street level. Wilson guns Torrey down in the saddest and most unglamorous
death that side of McCabe and Mrs. Miller.
There are two additional things that make this scene incredibly
impactful. One was the fact that Stevens wanted Torrey’s body to be launched
backward violently from the impact of the bullets. To achieve this, Stevens had
Elisha Cook Jr. fastened with a harness that was yanked to create the illusion
that he’d been pushed back 10 feet from the blast. It’s an effect that makes
the gunshot and the death seem that much more violent without actually showing
blood, lending the death a strong sense of gravity. Second, with Stevens being
a war veteran, he didn’t want anyone underestimating the destruction that a gun
could do, and this was emphasized even to the sound of the gunshot. Gunshot sounds in most westerns are rather weak and muted on the
soundtrack and are usually that particular stock gunshot sound that can be
heard across hundreds of westerns. It starts to become unimpressive when you
hear the same thing over and over again. To achieve a unique, deafening, and
fearsome gunshot effect for Shane, Stevens experimented and recorded the sound
of a Howitzer cannon firing into a garbage can, thus capturing a shocking and
explosive sound which helps to deglamorize the violence and emphasize the
lasting impact of a loss of life. Stevens also understood that if you heard the
gunshots too often, it would no longer have impact. It’s almost a full hour
into the film before Shane teaches Joey to shoot. Once those enormous gun shots
go off on the soundtrack, it’s incredibly jarring and sounds unlike any other
gunshot in any other western. It’s literally the loudest thing you hear in the
movie…which is as it should be. Torrey’s death is given further magnitude with
much emphasis paid to the funeral sequence involving all the homesteaders. This
becomes a polarizing moment for many….some convinced they should stay and some
convinced they should leave. Thus, Torrey’s death provides the hinge upon which
the mechanics of the finale swing, emboldening the homesteaders, in particular
Joe Starrett who realizes something must be done to respond to this death. It
can probably be argued there is no other death in any western in which a side
character’s passing provides such an important impact upon the story.
The iconography of the final showdown between Shane, Wilson and the Ryker
brothers, as Shane jarringly reappears in his white buckskin riding into town,
is enhanced by the pounding and propulsive score leading up to that sequence. Indeed, the score written by
Victor Young is astounding throughout the film, as he seemingly wrote a theme
for most of the characters, from the playful tune to mark Joey’s perspective,
to the romantic ballad given to Marian, to Ryker’s descending notes of doom
upon every appearance and also Shane’s larger than life nostalgic notes. I
think the highlight is that finale march by Shane into town with Joey and his
dog running after. Young’s music builds the stakes and the suspense as it leads
us to Shane’s entrance into the saloon, with Shane taunting Ryker and then
challenging Wilson’s manhood, dictating the scene’s action.
Shane: So you're Jack Wilson.
Wilson: What's that mean to you, Shane?
Shane: I've heard about you.
Wilson: What have you heard, Shane?
Shane (pausing): …….I've heard that you're a low-down, Yankee liar.
Wilson (softly): ……Prove it.
Then the sudden and swift power of this final shootout unloads with a
deafening roar, young Joey looking on from under the door as Shane shoots both
Wilson and Rufus Starrett in quick succession. Joey involves himself in the
proceedings when he yells “Shane lookout!”, giving Shane a chance to shoot
Morgan Ryker off the upstairs balcony, probably saving his life. After the final shootout, Joey must say goodbye to his hero, as Shane rides across the valley and up into the mountains, with those iconic words said by Brandon De Wilde, "Shaaaaaaaaane........Come Baaaaaaaaaaack!!!"
Though filmed in 1951, the film didn’t release until 1953, due to Stevens’s
remarkable diligence to editing and re-editing. One can see from the way he
incorporates different points of view, angles, edits, sound effects, and
musical scoring, that he paid so much attention to the look and feel of the
final product. It is reported that the scene when Shane teaches Joey how to
shoot took 116 takes. Jack Palance in fact had so much trouble mounting horses that
Stevens had to use a shot of Palance dismounting and then played it in reverse
to show him mounting. Additionally, the whole shoot was plagued with terrible
weather in Jackson Hole, with rain often postponing the schedule. The shoot
went over-budget and overtime significantly, but the film did huge business at
the box office, raking in $20MM with a budget of $3MM. Shane has been a highly
popular western throughout the decades, yet I would wager that even 10 or 15
years ago, this film wouldn't have placed anywhere outside the top 10 of any western
countdown, maybe even top 5. I wonder whether today’s audiences find the
emphasis on emotion as fulfilling as audiences in prior decades? We seem to be
ingrained these days to distrust or even to mock honest emotion. Thus, more subversive
works, and particularly the spaghetti westerns get more interest these days, or
at least films that are filled with more psychological shading. Call it old-fashioned
if you want, but the sort of story and execution on display in Shane is actually
what many of the more modern westerns are built upon, including the spaghettis.
Without the mythology, there is nothing to subvert. Without the traditions
inherent to the genre, there is no need for revision. This film plays better as
an emotional experience than as a revisionist western, and for some, that may
be a drawback. But, for my money, Shane is the grandest and most emotionally
involving examination of western mythology and thus my personal favorite
western. Stevens has such a terrific sense of pacing throughout that allows a
beautiful emotional arc to unfold, giving weight to life and death, to
childhood and family, and to a man’s code of honor. This is Steven’s most
lasting legacy with this beautiful film.
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