Welcome to the second part of Arizona and it’s representations in Western Film! In part one I had discussed The Baron Of Arizona as the first film up for examination. Here is what else I wrote:
The opening of My Darling Clementine has the four Earp brothers herding their cattle through the magnificent Monument Valley region on the way to California. Wyatt encounters two shady characters who supposedly want to buy his cattle, but actually have nefarious designs. Earp is not interested in any sale and remarks that the area “sure is tough looking country”and “ain’t no cow country.” Earp’s observation sets the stage for terrible events to come as three of his brothers ride into nearby Tombstone for rest and relaxation, leaving the youngest at camp to tend the cattle. As it turns out, the youngest brother James is murdered during the night by the two men Wyatt first meets (Pa Clanton and his son Ike) and the cattle rustled away. Tombstone does not prove to be any safer than the outskirts, as the three remaining Earp brothers encounter a wild drunk who practically shoot’s up the entire Main Street while the reluctant sheriff and his meager deputies refuse to confront the shooter and take him into custody.
In the twinkling of an eye, Wyatt assumes to the role of sheriff as nobody else will handle the lawlessness that saturates Tombstone – which includes cattle thieves, card cheats, gunslingers, and prostitutes. However, what really stands out while viewing My Darling Clementine is the bleak and lonely setting of Tombstone which seems plunked down in the middle of nowhere, utterly cut off from the “modern” world of the latter 19th century…no telegraphs, no railroads, but only a stagecoach to provide a fragile link to the outside world. To drive this point home, the flamboyant Doc Holliday (Victor Mature) casually remarks to Sheriff Earp that Tombstone is “the biggest grave west of the Rockies.” From that sobering comment it would seem that the extraordinarily high rate of unnatural death in the town is directly related to the forbidding geographic locale that has prevented a strong outside authority from maintaining law and order.
Violent, unnatural death and vigilante justice also characterize the lurid western melodrama Johnny Guitar (1954). The Sedona region of central Arizona and its vivid red rocks cliffs are the captivating setting for this offbeat tale of two female protagonists in a deadly power struggle for control of this wild, remote region. Cattle rancher Emma Small (Mercedes McCambridge) and saloon owner Vienna (Joan Crawford) have competed for the same men which exacerbates the main issue of whether “civilization” in the form of a new railroad which would bring commercial development (touted by Vienna) should be allowed – or should the area remain as frontier, devoted entirely for cattle ranching interests (as Emma is determined it should remain). Of course, what is outstanding in this narrative (much like The Baron Of Arizona and My Darling Clementine is yet another rough and tumble, rustic settlement where the denizens are left up to their own devices.
Along with the greedy, tyrannical, and power hungry tendencies of human nature – which bloom floridly in Westerns, the wild and woolly locales can be viewed as having a dark, subliminal psychological effects that also encourage these tendencies. Tying in with that, all three films have the same basic social construction which makes pretty clear that despots dominate the hapless settlers while ineffectual and/or indifferent higher authority does nothing, necessitating a chief protagonist to save the day against steep odds. In any case, by the conclusion of Johnny Guitar there has been the climactic, obligatory shootout though this occurs between the two women with top-billed Crawford and her allies victorious.
However, what truly stands out here – as with the other films, is the lack of outside interference from a larger, more stable authority. Although it’s never stated by any characters from the three films examined here, the storylines certainly suggest to viewers that the “pioneer spirit” is determined to overcome the natural settings which tend to overwhelm the attempts of humans and their greenhorn settlements to tame them. Perhaps noted Western film writer Blake Lucas best sums up the turbulent cinematic relationships humans have with the natural West, by stating in the Arizona Identity In Western Film lecture series: “Some kind of alchemy blesses artistic forms which are especially rich: think of the sonnet or string quartet – and of narrative forms. The Western movie is one of the most satisfying, it’s combination of landscape and motifs endlessly stimulating.”
