I just finished rereading C.S. Lewis’ ‘That Hideous Strength;’ the truly remarkable climax to his Space Trilogy (preceded by ‘Out of the Silent Planet’ and ‘Perelandra’). There is a LOT which could be said (and probably has been said much better than I could) about this book, but right now I want to focus on something that struck me particularly while reading it this time (well, one of the things); Lewis’ writing style.
I’m a writer myself, and am still puzzling out my own personal storytelling style, but if once it is worked out it doesn’t somewhat resemble Lewis’, I shall be quite surprised. I was particularly alert to this as I am, right now, also reading a mystery story called ‘Original Sin’ by P.D. James. In James’ book, I saw something which I’ve found in a great deal of modern novels I’ve read (particularly ones which take ‘realism’ as their watchword). Something that is absent from Lewis, Tolkien, and their ilk. Namely, the books spend a great deal of their (generally considerable) length inside their character’s heads. In ‘Original Sin,’ practically EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER gets a chapter-long mental dissection when they are first introduced; a run-down of their thoughts, their problems, their personal histories, their cynical attitudes and questions about other characters, and their motivations. Then after their introductions the book occasionally makes the rounds of the character’s points of view for a few chapters at a time. At the point I am at now, I’m practically screaming every time we get one of these discursions (and since I’m barely halfway through, I’ll probably be really screaming by the end).
I am not adverse to well-developed characters, but this is the most ham-fisted, cheapest way of getting there (or pretending you’ve gotten there). This technique is akin to the young writer who feels he has to describe every single detail about a room or an animal and do it very precisely. It leaves no room for reader involvement and ends up taking on the excitement of a police report. At times it feels like the authoress was so eager to have ‘three-dimensional’ characters that she wrote out these long-winded ‘development’ scenes out of a feeling of obligation; rather like how one feels obliged to invite everyone you know to a party for fear of someone feeling left out.
Of course, the main problem with these ‘development’ scenes is that they are BORING. We honestly don’t care that much about the detective’s sidekick’s problems with her boyfriend, or about the policeman’s inferiority complex. All it does is eat up a half-dozen pages and provide a blunt, clumsy attempt at ‘realism’.
Compare this with Lewis; he paints his characters with sure, deft strokes; briskly giving us enough information that we understand them without giving us a six-page autobiography every few chapters. We are told what we need to know about the characters when we meet them to get an initial grasp on them, then we move on. Later, more details are dropped as they become important to the story or the theme. If Lewis wrote with James’ style, we would have gotten a long introspective discussion of Mark’s desire to be in the ‘in crowd’ taking up the first chapter and several more later on repeating largely the same thing, only slightly altered to take in later events. This isn’t getting to know the character; this is being force-fed psychological data (and, more importantly, we would have lost all the dramatic impact of the scene where Mark realizes it for himself).
Furthermore, Lewis tells the story as much as possible through just two characters; Mark and Jane. We only leave their perspective occasionally, and when it is absolutely necessary. What’s more, while we get many talks of what motivates them, they are all INTERESTING, largely because they fit the context of the scene and are necessary to understand what is happening NOW. This makes it feel more like getting to know real people than being introduced to characters in a book. It also, incidentally, makes the characters easier to know. James’ habit of dumping the information on us in great dollops not only makes us care less and less about each new character, but also makes it occasionally difficult to remember who’s the one with the gay lover and who’s the one with the recurring nightmare.
I really wish I could inform writers like James that people don’t read books for their realistic characters; we can meet realistic people anytime we feel like stepping outside (if it’s even that difficult). Deep, ‘three-dimensional’ characters are NOT the point of literature. They’re nice, rather like extra accessories and a nice paint job on a car, but the point of a car is not to have a nice paint-job. The point of literature is to express truth or simply to entertain (or, more commonly, both). That is why ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is better literature than James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ and Shakespeare is better literature than Tom Clancy.
‘That Hideous Strength’ does both of these things and does them both extremely well. ‘Original Sin,’ so far, has largely failed on both points. By focusing so much on the inner-workings of its characters, it leaves little room to showcase any particular truth (which would likely get lost in the web of character point of views) and becomes almost intolerably boring, so much that it becomes hard to care even about its central mystery (then again, I am not finished with it, so it might turn around in its second half, but I doubt it).
Ultimately, James’ book is just as artificial as Lewis’ because there is really no recapturing reality; James’ cynical ‘well-rounded’ characters are just as fake as Lewis’ characters. The difference is that Lewis, by not insisting that we ‘get’ that each character is a well-rounded, three-dimensional ‘person’ creates characters who are A). much more likeable and B). actually more realistic seeming; more like people you might meet in the street. People you meet don’t initially seem to be deep, ‘three-dimensional’ characters; they seem just like ordinary people. In Lewis, we get to know the characters by spending time with them. In James, we’re forced into their heads and told ‘learn this.’
Saturday, August 30, 2008
MST3K - Episode 101 - The Crawling Eye
Here is my embarkation on the most ambitious blog project I have: a full run-down and review of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K) from ‘The Crawling Eye’ to ‘Danger: Diabolik.’ My plan is to review one episode a week until the series is completed (it's unlikely to work that way, considering episode availability and personal obligations).
First off, a note for those who are unfamiliar with the show; Mystery Science Theater 3000 ran from 1988-1999 (including a little-remember ‘practice run’ on the channel KTMA). It revolved around a guy (first Joel, later Mike) and two robots being forced to watch bad movies. The plot, such as it is, is that a mad scientist named Dr. Clayton Forrester (Dr. F.) has concocted a plan to rule the world by finding the worst movie ever made; a movie so bad that it will mentally destroy anyone who watches it. To find this movie, he has shot his janitor, Joel Robinson, into space on the bone-shaped Satellite of Love. Once there, Dr. F forces Joel to watch movie after movie hoping to find one that will crush his soul. Joel fights back in two ways; to keep himself company, he makes four robots; Crow T. Robot, Tom Servo, Gypsy, and Cambot. Then, when forced to watch the movies, he, Crow, and Tom fight back by making fun of them. It’s their quips and ‘riffs’ that provide most of the show’s humor as we watch the movie with them and laugh at their jokes. Most of the show takes place in the theater, with Joel and the ‘bots in silhouette in a corner while the movie itself plays on the big screen.
When they leave the theater, they present little ‘host segments;’ short skits mostly having something to do with the movie they’re watching, but not always.
Now, I believe we have enough information to proceed. ‘The Crawling Eye’ was the first episode produced for the ‘Comedy Channel,’ which would later merge and morph and eventually end up as part of Comedy Central. So, here, for all intents and purposes, is the very first MST3K episode.
This isn’t a pilot or an origin story; there is no such thing for MST3K. The show’s plot only is an excuse for the theater segments. A real origin story would only waste time (that being said, I do personally rather long to see how this story began and how Joel wound up on the Satellite and made the bots. That puts me in the minority, however).
We get all the back-story we’re going to get in the opening segment, where Dr. F and his first assistant, Dr. Earhart (soon to be replaced by TV’s Frank; more on him when he shows up) explain that they’ve moved down to Deep 13 (where they would remain until the end of Season 7), a subbasement of ‘Gizmonic Institute’ (where Joel used to work). For me this tiny bit of actual plot is a nice treat. Like I said, I understand why they didn’t do more, but it’s still a little personally disappointing.
In the beginning of the episode is an ‘invention exchange,’ where Joel and the Mads would create competing contraptions of a usually wacky and almost-cartoonish nature. These were generally a lot of fun, though I personally tend to find them amusing more than laugh-out-loud funny. This first one is a good example; Joel has invented an electric bag-pipe (a leaf-blower hooked up to a primitive bag-pipe) and the Mads have invented a canine antiperspirant (which briefly gives Dr. Earhart the mind of a dog). This done, we move on to this week’s experiment.
The movie in this case, ‘The Crawling Eye,’ is really not that bad by MST3K standards; it’s rather slow and the sound is bad, but it has the fun quality of many sci-fi pictures from this period, and the monsters are pretty nicely done. The acting is professional enough; neither grate nor noticeably bad, and it has some rather interesting ideas (the cloud of cold, which conveniently conceals the monsters until the end, for one).
Nevertheless, it provides some good MST3K fodder. Or, would if it was shown a few years later. In its early days the riffing on MST3K was much more sparse than it would later become, leading to long sections of the film with no riffs. This, incidentally, means it’s a good thing they picked a comparatively good movie to riff this time, as the film manages to hold our interests even when Joel and the Bots are silent.
That being said, the riffs here are generally pretty good; the show certainly started off on a good note with this one. The numerous eye puns at the end were more amusing than funny, but several rather dark jokes earlier on made me laugh (my favorite bit being the ‘these four brave men’ bit). The jokes of the fat climber who hogs the bed are good too, as are some of the jokes regarding the possessed guy. And the ‘You looked in my BAG!’ line made me laugh out loud (and incidentally would make a great tee-shirt).
Since the jokes are so sparse, there isn’t a lot to discuss with the film segments. The host segments, meanwhile, mostly revolve around discussion humor, like most of the host segments of the time; the bots ask Joel about something and they continue through their odd questions and comments. I must admit, I don’t find these particularly funny, but others might get more out of them. The show was clearly still evolving at the time and the elaborate skits of later seasons are still far off.
My favorite host segment is the second one, which focuses on the third ‘Bot, Gypsy. For a long time the show’s only female character, Gypsy is easily the character who develops the most over the course of the show. In the beginning she is, as head writer Michael J. Nelson commented in the Episode Guide, a ‘dim-witted, cow-like creature played by a man.’ This show has her at her dimmest and most cow-like. She seems barely functional and you can hardly understand what she’s saying. Also, at one point Joel takes off her eye (all the bots are made of found materials, Gypsy’s single eye is literally a big flashlight), which seems to disturb her greatly. Still, the host segment is pretty funny, I particularly like Servo’s comment ‘I scratch her hear and it takes her six hours to feel it in her head.’
A word about Servo; Josh Weinstein (Dr. Earhart) voices him for the first season and then leaves. For the rest of the show’s run, Servo was voiced by Kevin Murphy. As I am far more familiar with the later episodes (as are most people), it is a bit jarring to hear Josh’s bored, been-there-done-that voice coming out of Servo’s mouth. Also, in the host segments Servo is completely immobile; he looks like a statue! Later, Kevin Murphy would make Servo into a dynamic, mobile character, but that’s for the future.
Now onto Crow. Trace Bealieu, who also played Dr. F. would be Crow until Season 8. To this day he is the definitive Crow for most every fan. Crow, in contrast with Servo, already demonstrates Bealieu’s tremendous puppetry talent, with his subtle little looks and facial expressions. His voice is far more babyish than it would later become, but Crow is far more developed at this point than Tom or (especially) Gypsy.
As for Cambot, he is simply the camera and rarely directly interacts with the other characters.
In the end, this is a decent enough episode, even for those weaned on the faster paced later ones. It served as a good first episode and a sign of better things to come.
Final Rating: 7/10.
First off, a note for those who are unfamiliar with the show; Mystery Science Theater 3000 ran from 1988-1999 (including a little-remember ‘practice run’ on the channel KTMA). It revolved around a guy (first Joel, later Mike) and two robots being forced to watch bad movies. The plot, such as it is, is that a mad scientist named Dr. Clayton Forrester (Dr. F.) has concocted a plan to rule the world by finding the worst movie ever made; a movie so bad that it will mentally destroy anyone who watches it. To find this movie, he has shot his janitor, Joel Robinson, into space on the bone-shaped Satellite of Love. Once there, Dr. F forces Joel to watch movie after movie hoping to find one that will crush his soul. Joel fights back in two ways; to keep himself company, he makes four robots; Crow T. Robot, Tom Servo, Gypsy, and Cambot. Then, when forced to watch the movies, he, Crow, and Tom fight back by making fun of them. It’s their quips and ‘riffs’ that provide most of the show’s humor as we watch the movie with them and laugh at their jokes. Most of the show takes place in the theater, with Joel and the ‘bots in silhouette in a corner while the movie itself plays on the big screen.
When they leave the theater, they present little ‘host segments;’ short skits mostly having something to do with the movie they’re watching, but not always.
Now, I believe we have enough information to proceed. ‘The Crawling Eye’ was the first episode produced for the ‘Comedy Channel,’ which would later merge and morph and eventually end up as part of Comedy Central. So, here, for all intents and purposes, is the very first MST3K episode.
This isn’t a pilot or an origin story; there is no such thing for MST3K. The show’s plot only is an excuse for the theater segments. A real origin story would only waste time (that being said, I do personally rather long to see how this story began and how Joel wound up on the Satellite and made the bots. That puts me in the minority, however).
We get all the back-story we’re going to get in the opening segment, where Dr. F and his first assistant, Dr. Earhart (soon to be replaced by TV’s Frank; more on him when he shows up) explain that they’ve moved down to Deep 13 (where they would remain until the end of Season 7), a subbasement of ‘Gizmonic Institute’ (where Joel used to work). For me this tiny bit of actual plot is a nice treat. Like I said, I understand why they didn’t do more, but it’s still a little personally disappointing.
In the beginning of the episode is an ‘invention exchange,’ where Joel and the Mads would create competing contraptions of a usually wacky and almost-cartoonish nature. These were generally a lot of fun, though I personally tend to find them amusing more than laugh-out-loud funny. This first one is a good example; Joel has invented an electric bag-pipe (a leaf-blower hooked up to a primitive bag-pipe) and the Mads have invented a canine antiperspirant (which briefly gives Dr. Earhart the mind of a dog). This done, we move on to this week’s experiment.
The movie in this case, ‘The Crawling Eye,’ is really not that bad by MST3K standards; it’s rather slow and the sound is bad, but it has the fun quality of many sci-fi pictures from this period, and the monsters are pretty nicely done. The acting is professional enough; neither grate nor noticeably bad, and it has some rather interesting ideas (the cloud of cold, which conveniently conceals the monsters until the end, for one).
Nevertheless, it provides some good MST3K fodder. Or, would if it was shown a few years later. In its early days the riffing on MST3K was much more sparse than it would later become, leading to long sections of the film with no riffs. This, incidentally, means it’s a good thing they picked a comparatively good movie to riff this time, as the film manages to hold our interests even when Joel and the Bots are silent.
That being said, the riffs here are generally pretty good; the show certainly started off on a good note with this one. The numerous eye puns at the end were more amusing than funny, but several rather dark jokes earlier on made me laugh (my favorite bit being the ‘these four brave men’ bit). The jokes of the fat climber who hogs the bed are good too, as are some of the jokes regarding the possessed guy. And the ‘You looked in my BAG!’ line made me laugh out loud (and incidentally would make a great tee-shirt).
Since the jokes are so sparse, there isn’t a lot to discuss with the film segments. The host segments, meanwhile, mostly revolve around discussion humor, like most of the host segments of the time; the bots ask Joel about something and they continue through their odd questions and comments. I must admit, I don’t find these particularly funny, but others might get more out of them. The show was clearly still evolving at the time and the elaborate skits of later seasons are still far off.
My favorite host segment is the second one, which focuses on the third ‘Bot, Gypsy. For a long time the show’s only female character, Gypsy is easily the character who develops the most over the course of the show. In the beginning she is, as head writer Michael J. Nelson commented in the Episode Guide, a ‘dim-witted, cow-like creature played by a man.’ This show has her at her dimmest and most cow-like. She seems barely functional and you can hardly understand what she’s saying. Also, at one point Joel takes off her eye (all the bots are made of found materials, Gypsy’s single eye is literally a big flashlight), which seems to disturb her greatly. Still, the host segment is pretty funny, I particularly like Servo’s comment ‘I scratch her hear and it takes her six hours to feel it in her head.’
A word about Servo; Josh Weinstein (Dr. Earhart) voices him for the first season and then leaves. For the rest of the show’s run, Servo was voiced by Kevin Murphy. As I am far more familiar with the later episodes (as are most people), it is a bit jarring to hear Josh’s bored, been-there-done-that voice coming out of Servo’s mouth. Also, in the host segments Servo is completely immobile; he looks like a statue! Later, Kevin Murphy would make Servo into a dynamic, mobile character, but that’s for the future.
Now onto Crow. Trace Bealieu, who also played Dr. F. would be Crow until Season 8. To this day he is the definitive Crow for most every fan. Crow, in contrast with Servo, already demonstrates Bealieu’s tremendous puppetry talent, with his subtle little looks and facial expressions. His voice is far more babyish than it would later become, but Crow is far more developed at this point than Tom or (especially) Gypsy.
As for Cambot, he is simply the camera and rarely directly interacts with the other characters.
In the end, this is a decent enough episode, even for those weaned on the faster paced later ones. It served as a good first episode and a sign of better things to come.
Final Rating: 7/10.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
If the Spaceman-Puma thing turns out to be the correct religion...
Most everyone, I suppose, has heard (and laughed at) the ‘theory’ that advanced aliens taught humans just about everything and that they were the actual gods of antiquity and the source of this ridiculous idea that there is a supreme being.
Well, I of course won’t waste time debunking this idea. It hardly needs debunking, does it? My question, though, is rather why on earth anyone would want to believe it. It seems clear to me that this is just disappointing-hero-worship on a cosmic scale; the ultimate ‘That’s IT?!’
Oddly, I’ve rarely heard anyone take this approach (of course, I haven’t done much research into it, for obvious reasons). I’ve seen this idea broached in a few films, and it’s always played up as a huge enlightenment; the ultimate answer which leaves the characters speechless with awe (except in ‘Alien vs. Predator,’ where it is merely played as ‘so that’s why the monsters are here’).
The most sensible reaction I’ve heard to this revelation comes not from a movie per-se, but from an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, which, as I assume everyone knows, revolves around a guy and two robots making fun of bad movies.
This movie, a truly lame Italian Superman-knock-off called ‘Puma Man,’ takes as its basis the above world view and concludes with the ‘gods’ descending in a scene that is intended to leave the viewer in awe, but is executed as horribly as the rest of the film.
However, it is the reactions of Mike and the Robots watching the film which makes the scene, as they spout off the disappointment inherent in this revelation:
“Is there anything we should tell the people about truth, or…”
“No, I don’t think so,”
“Should we love each other?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,”
This, as I’ve said, is really the most sensible reaction to the ‘aliens are gods’ idea; not pointing out the factual dubiousness of the idea, which will either go without saying or likely be impossible to demonstrate to the satisfaction of your listener, but by taking a leaf out of Mike and the Bots’ book and merely asking ‘Is that it?’
P.S. Bonus points to the first person who can complete the titular quote from ‘Puma Man.’
P.P.S. If this idea is true, who taught the aliens?
Well, I of course won’t waste time debunking this idea. It hardly needs debunking, does it? My question, though, is rather why on earth anyone would want to believe it. It seems clear to me that this is just disappointing-hero-worship on a cosmic scale; the ultimate ‘That’s IT?!’
Oddly, I’ve rarely heard anyone take this approach (of course, I haven’t done much research into it, for obvious reasons). I’ve seen this idea broached in a few films, and it’s always played up as a huge enlightenment; the ultimate answer which leaves the characters speechless with awe (except in ‘Alien vs. Predator,’ where it is merely played as ‘so that’s why the monsters are here’).
The most sensible reaction I’ve heard to this revelation comes not from a movie per-se, but from an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, which, as I assume everyone knows, revolves around a guy and two robots making fun of bad movies.
This movie, a truly lame Italian Superman-knock-off called ‘Puma Man,’ takes as its basis the above world view and concludes with the ‘gods’ descending in a scene that is intended to leave the viewer in awe, but is executed as horribly as the rest of the film.
However, it is the reactions of Mike and the Robots watching the film which makes the scene, as they spout off the disappointment inherent in this revelation:
“Is there anything we should tell the people about truth, or…”
“No, I don’t think so,”
“Should we love each other?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it,”
This, as I’ve said, is really the most sensible reaction to the ‘aliens are gods’ idea; not pointing out the factual dubiousness of the idea, which will either go without saying or likely be impossible to demonstrate to the satisfaction of your listener, but by taking a leaf out of Mike and the Bots’ book and merely asking ‘Is that it?’
P.S. Bonus points to the first person who can complete the titular quote from ‘Puma Man.’
P.P.S. If this idea is true, who taught the aliens?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Lessons in Manhood from Westerns
Recently I watched “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” for a second time. This time I was able to get into the film more and listen to what it has to say. Essentially, as has been noted many times before, it depicts the confrontation of two forms of manhood; the ‘tough’ manhood of John Wayne against the ‘soft’ manhood of Jimmy Stewart. At first glance it seems no contest; Stewart seems almost literally puny next to Wayne’s swaggering, confident man of action. But the film doesn’t leave things there. Despite his clear disadvantages, Stewart still manages to hold his own against Wayne and to prove that despite his ‘softness’ and civilized manner, he is just as much of a man as Wayne is. This is dramatically demonstrated in a scene where Wayne supposedly tries to teach Stewart to shoot, only to end up playing a rather dirty trick on him. As Wayne laughs at the humiliated Stewart, Stewart walks right up to him and punches Wayne in the face, knocking him flat. As Stewart stalks off, Wayne rubs his chin in surprise…then smiles.
One of the reasons the film works so well is the fact that John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart were both real men in real life as well as on screen. Wayne was a real-life tough guy who had ridden horses to school and used to get drunk and start fights for fun. Stewart was a war-hero and honest family man. This has been noted before as a point of contrast between the stars of the later film era (late-sixties onward) and the stars of the earlier film era; the earlier film era had real men for its stars. Consider John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Henry Fonda and Jimmy Stewart. These were people who really lived; who had done unpleasant things and endured hardships because they had to. Compare them to today’s self-righteous ex-hippies loudly proclaiming their sophistication and enlightenment while campaigning for issues that were resolved a generation or two ago, or, even worse, today’s glorified, doll-like young pop stars straining to seem like real people and not the product they are.
I noticed this also when I saw ‘The Shootist’ recently. In John Wayne’s swansong, he shares the screen with young Ron Howard. There is an indescribable difference between the two actors, one which goes beyond the obvious age difference. John Wayne seems at home in this world; he drinks easily, shoots easily, growls advice and chuckles manfully. Howard, on the other hand, is clearly the product of a different time. Don’t get me wrong, I think he gives a good performance, but it seems more like he is a boy playing make-believe than a real person. He is soft and Wayne is hard. He is a mere mortal in a land of giants (not only Wayne, but Lauren Bacall, Jimmy Stewart and even, briefly, John Carradine).
What can Wayne (or Stewart) teach us about being a man? A good place to start is Wayne’s personal credo in ‘The Shootist’; “I won’t be wronged, I won’t be insulted, and I won’t be laid a hand on. I don’t do these things to other people and I require the same from them.”
A man, then, does no wrong to others, but defends himself when he is wronged. In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance’ there is a scene demonstrating this. Valance, a local bully, waltzes into a restaurant and begins shoving people around. Wayne, however, doesn’t interfere until Valance’s bullying affects him, then he immediately confronts Valance and drives him out (this is followed by a great, subtle moment; as Valance and his sidekicks ride off they shoot wildly through the restaurant windows. When the dust settles, we see that only Wayne and Stewart are still standing, with everyone else having sought cover). Wayne won’t instigate a confrontation, but should one come he won’t back down.
This again, however, is contrasted with Stewart, who unabashedly stands up for those around him, even when he truly has no means of helping them. Early on there is a scene where the stagecoach he is in is being robbed. After dutifully handing over everything he has, he then confronts the gun-wielding Valance when the latter assaults a female passenger, despite the fact that this nearly gets him killed. Later, Stewart angrily tells Wayne that “Nobody fights my battles!”
So far, a man does no wrong to others, but won’t suffer himself to be wronged. A man also stands up for those who cannot defend themselves, no matter the cost. A man, finally, also does these things himself and does not hide behind anyone.
Another thing that defines a man is his treatment of women. In the old days it was the mark of the hero and villain how they treated the female characters (nowadays it’s how they treat dogs, which strikes me as a good summation of how accepted morals have changed). In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ as noted, one of the first things Valance does is try to rob and assault a woman, while in contrast both Wayne and particularly Stewart show a gentle respect to the female characters, as evidenced by Wayne’s winking compliments to female lead Vera Miles and Stewart’s gentle offer to teach her to read (along with his earlier attempt to protect the woman on the coach, despite the inevitable result). Likewise, in ‘Stagecoach,’ Wayne and the other men all simply take it for granted that the women ought to be given respect and such courtesy that can be given. As well, when considering actions which might be dangerous or unpleasant, they always defer to the women, as they are the ones whom the men feel obliged to make the safest and most comfortable. Furthermore, Wayne is shown several times standing up for Claire Trevor’s prostitute character when the other men look down on her.
In conjunction with this respect of women is respect of relationships. To put it bluntly, don’t cheat on your woman and don’t try to take another man’s woman. In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ there is a scene where Wayne confronts Stewart about how much time he is spending with Vera Miles.
“[She]’s my girl,” Wayne growls, to which Stewart replies, with honest surprise “Well, I guess everyone just takes that for granted,”
“Everyone except her,” Wayne replies, “and maybe you.”
Implied with this is accepting when a woman has chosen someone else.
(SPOILERS AHEAD!!!)
Late in ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ John Wayne realizes that Vera Miles is in love with Jimmy Stewart. In accordance with this, he steps aside, even though he had a very clear and easy way he could have kept her. Nevertheless, he secretly saves Stewart from his suicidal duel with Valance and steps aside so that they can be together, despite the fact that the pain of this literally almost kills him.
So, we have gathered so far that a man does no wrong to others, but won’t suffer himself to be wronged. He stands up for those who cannot defend themselves, no matter the cost. A man does his duty, and does not hide behind others or seek to turn his duties over to someone else. A man respects and protects women and relationships and allows a woman to make her own choice and then accepts that choice once made.
Taking into account this need to protect and to stand up for what’s right, a man ought to be strong and, even more importantly, brave. In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ John Wayne is shown to be by far the stronger character, at least in terms of brute force and the force of his personality. However, the film subtly insinuates that Jimmy Stewart is actually the stronger man of the two, precisely because he doesn’t have the physicality or strong personality that Wayne does. In spite of this, as noted, Stewart still stands up for himself and for what he knows to be right, and the fact that he can do this despite having none of Wayne’s strength to back him up. He shows himself to be the better man by being willing to fight despite the almost certainty of failure. The uncertainty of his position, and the fact that he holds it anyways, makes him the braver and better man.
Another question of courage is brought up in ‘The Magnificent Seven,’ starring Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen and tells the story of seven gunmen hired to defend a small Mexican village from a local bandit. In one of the best scenes of the movie (which is full of great scenes), Charles Bronson, one of the seven, sits down with some of the local children and explains what real courage is. One of the boys had moaned that their fathers were cowards, at which point Bronson grabs him and spanks him before telling him that their fathers are not cowards; that they are braver than the gunmen because they carry the responsibility for their children and wives. “This responsibility is like a big rock that weighs a ton,” he says, “and it bends and it twists them until finally it buries them under the ground. And no one says they have to do this. They do it because they love you and they want to.” He ends by saying that he himself has never had the kind of courage, and that makes their fathers braver men than he is.
So, to sum up a rather longer essay than I wanted to write, Westerns in general and, specifically, ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ present a clear, concise image of what a true man ought to be: Man does no wrong to others, but won’t suffer himself to be wronged. He stands up for those who cannot defend themselves, no matter the cost. A man does his duty, and does not hide behind others or seek to turn his duties over to someone else. A man respects and protects women and relationships and allows a woman to make her own choice and then accepts that choice once made. A man is strong and, more importantly, brave. He is willing to do the right thing even if this will result in pain or loss or even death for himself. He acknowledges that true courage is not being tough or carrying a gun, but in carrying responsibility and love. Finally, a man recognizes another man and respects him. All this is summarized in the credo:
"I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do this to other people and I require the same from them."
One of the reasons the film works so well is the fact that John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart were both real men in real life as well as on screen. Wayne was a real-life tough guy who had ridden horses to school and used to get drunk and start fights for fun. Stewart was a war-hero and honest family man. This has been noted before as a point of contrast between the stars of the later film era (late-sixties onward) and the stars of the earlier film era; the earlier film era had real men for its stars. Consider John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Henry Fonda and Jimmy Stewart. These were people who really lived; who had done unpleasant things and endured hardships because they had to. Compare them to today’s self-righteous ex-hippies loudly proclaiming their sophistication and enlightenment while campaigning for issues that were resolved a generation or two ago, or, even worse, today’s glorified, doll-like young pop stars straining to seem like real people and not the product they are.
I noticed this also when I saw ‘The Shootist’ recently. In John Wayne’s swansong, he shares the screen with young Ron Howard. There is an indescribable difference between the two actors, one which goes beyond the obvious age difference. John Wayne seems at home in this world; he drinks easily, shoots easily, growls advice and chuckles manfully. Howard, on the other hand, is clearly the product of a different time. Don’t get me wrong, I think he gives a good performance, but it seems more like he is a boy playing make-believe than a real person. He is soft and Wayne is hard. He is a mere mortal in a land of giants (not only Wayne, but Lauren Bacall, Jimmy Stewart and even, briefly, John Carradine).
What can Wayne (or Stewart) teach us about being a man? A good place to start is Wayne’s personal credo in ‘The Shootist’; “I won’t be wronged, I won’t be insulted, and I won’t be laid a hand on. I don’t do these things to other people and I require the same from them.”
A man, then, does no wrong to others, but defends himself when he is wronged. In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance’ there is a scene demonstrating this. Valance, a local bully, waltzes into a restaurant and begins shoving people around. Wayne, however, doesn’t interfere until Valance’s bullying affects him, then he immediately confronts Valance and drives him out (this is followed by a great, subtle moment; as Valance and his sidekicks ride off they shoot wildly through the restaurant windows. When the dust settles, we see that only Wayne and Stewart are still standing, with everyone else having sought cover). Wayne won’t instigate a confrontation, but should one come he won’t back down.
This again, however, is contrasted with Stewart, who unabashedly stands up for those around him, even when he truly has no means of helping them. Early on there is a scene where the stagecoach he is in is being robbed. After dutifully handing over everything he has, he then confronts the gun-wielding Valance when the latter assaults a female passenger, despite the fact that this nearly gets him killed. Later, Stewart angrily tells Wayne that “Nobody fights my battles!”
So far, a man does no wrong to others, but won’t suffer himself to be wronged. A man also stands up for those who cannot defend themselves, no matter the cost. A man, finally, also does these things himself and does not hide behind anyone.
Another thing that defines a man is his treatment of women. In the old days it was the mark of the hero and villain how they treated the female characters (nowadays it’s how they treat dogs, which strikes me as a good summation of how accepted morals have changed). In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ as noted, one of the first things Valance does is try to rob and assault a woman, while in contrast both Wayne and particularly Stewart show a gentle respect to the female characters, as evidenced by Wayne’s winking compliments to female lead Vera Miles and Stewart’s gentle offer to teach her to read (along with his earlier attempt to protect the woman on the coach, despite the inevitable result). Likewise, in ‘Stagecoach,’ Wayne and the other men all simply take it for granted that the women ought to be given respect and such courtesy that can be given. As well, when considering actions which might be dangerous or unpleasant, they always defer to the women, as they are the ones whom the men feel obliged to make the safest and most comfortable. Furthermore, Wayne is shown several times standing up for Claire Trevor’s prostitute character when the other men look down on her.
In conjunction with this respect of women is respect of relationships. To put it bluntly, don’t cheat on your woman and don’t try to take another man’s woman. In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ there is a scene where Wayne confronts Stewart about how much time he is spending with Vera Miles.
“[She]’s my girl,” Wayne growls, to which Stewart replies, with honest surprise “Well, I guess everyone just takes that for granted,”
“Everyone except her,” Wayne replies, “and maybe you.”
Implied with this is accepting when a woman has chosen someone else.
(SPOILERS AHEAD!!!)
Late in ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ John Wayne realizes that Vera Miles is in love with Jimmy Stewart. In accordance with this, he steps aside, even though he had a very clear and easy way he could have kept her. Nevertheless, he secretly saves Stewart from his suicidal duel with Valance and steps aside so that they can be together, despite the fact that the pain of this literally almost kills him.
So, we have gathered so far that a man does no wrong to others, but won’t suffer himself to be wronged. He stands up for those who cannot defend themselves, no matter the cost. A man does his duty, and does not hide behind others or seek to turn his duties over to someone else. A man respects and protects women and relationships and allows a woman to make her own choice and then accepts that choice once made.
Taking into account this need to protect and to stand up for what’s right, a man ought to be strong and, even more importantly, brave. In ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ John Wayne is shown to be by far the stronger character, at least in terms of brute force and the force of his personality. However, the film subtly insinuates that Jimmy Stewart is actually the stronger man of the two, precisely because he doesn’t have the physicality or strong personality that Wayne does. In spite of this, as noted, Stewart still stands up for himself and for what he knows to be right, and the fact that he can do this despite having none of Wayne’s strength to back him up. He shows himself to be the better man by being willing to fight despite the almost certainty of failure. The uncertainty of his position, and the fact that he holds it anyways, makes him the braver and better man.
Another question of courage is brought up in ‘The Magnificent Seven,’ starring Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen and tells the story of seven gunmen hired to defend a small Mexican village from a local bandit. In one of the best scenes of the movie (which is full of great scenes), Charles Bronson, one of the seven, sits down with some of the local children and explains what real courage is. One of the boys had moaned that their fathers were cowards, at which point Bronson grabs him and spanks him before telling him that their fathers are not cowards; that they are braver than the gunmen because they carry the responsibility for their children and wives. “This responsibility is like a big rock that weighs a ton,” he says, “and it bends and it twists them until finally it buries them under the ground. And no one says they have to do this. They do it because they love you and they want to.” He ends by saying that he himself has never had the kind of courage, and that makes their fathers braver men than he is.
So, to sum up a rather longer essay than I wanted to write, Westerns in general and, specifically, ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,’ present a clear, concise image of what a true man ought to be: Man does no wrong to others, but won’t suffer himself to be wronged. He stands up for those who cannot defend themselves, no matter the cost. A man does his duty, and does not hide behind others or seek to turn his duties over to someone else. A man respects and protects women and relationships and allows a woman to make her own choice and then accepts that choice once made. A man is strong and, more importantly, brave. He is willing to do the right thing even if this will result in pain or loss or even death for himself. He acknowledges that true courage is not being tough or carrying a gun, but in carrying responsibility and love. Finally, a man recognizes another man and respects him. All this is summarized in the credo:
"I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do this to other people and I require the same from them."
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