Classic Films in Focus: 3 GODFATHERS (1948)

John Ford offers a distinctly Western take on the Christmas story in 3 Godfathers (1948), where there’s no sign of the usual snow and comfortable holiday cheer. In their place we witness the parched terrain of the desert frontier and a grueling journey by our protagonists, three not so very bad men struggling to save an orphaned newborn even though they are on the run from the law. As usual, much of the appeal of a John Ford picture stems from its cast, with John Wayne leading a collection of the usual suspects, including Ward Bond, Harry Carey, Jr., Jane Darwell, and Mildred Natwick. With Ford’s characteristic blend of toughness and sentiment and a visual style bursting with religious iconography, 3 Godfathers delivers a surprisingly soulful tribute to the original story of the three wise men, but Western devotees will find it worthwhile at any time of year.

Wayne leads a trio of cattle rustlers turned bank robbers as Robert Hightower, with the Mexican Pete (Pedro Armendáriz) and the boyish Abilene Kid (Harry Carey, Jr.) as his accomplices. The three men ride into Welcome, Arizona, and accidentally make small talk with the sheriff (Ward Bond) and his wife (Mae Marsh) before robbing the bank, and their luck only gets worse from there. As the sheriff’s posse cuts them off from all sources of water, Hightower and his gang are forced to run ever deeper into the desert, where they find a dying woman who places her newborn son under their protection. The three men put the child’s welfare before their own to fulfill their promise to his mother, but they have little hope of saving themselves, much less the helpless baby.

As he had in Ford’s Stagecoach (1939) nearly a decade earlier, Wayne plays an outlaw with a sentimental side, but his tribulation in the desert suggests that Hightower still has some penance to pay for his sins. The pervasive themes of the picture deal with redemption, self-sacrifice, and the symbolic importance of water, a precious commodity in both the American wilderness and the land of the Israelites. Musical cues reinforce these elements, from the mournful lament of “Streets of Laredo” to “Shall We Gather at the River.” The camera dwells on the relentless heat of the arid frontier, the drops of water falling on the baby’s face, and the image of a derelict wagon sitting forlornly beside a hopelessly broken tank. Wayne’s best scenes occur in the extremity of these moments, especially when he returns from his first visit to the wagon and the useless water tank. The film has many dark episodes, but that is the worst of the lot, as Hightower sits contemplating the countless lives that will be lost because of one man’s foolish actions. For that man there is no redemption; even his wife rejects him by naming her baby Robert William Pedro Hightower, after the three men who arrive just in time to help the child be born. Bob Hightower, whose paternal nature has already revealed itself in his behavior toward the wounded Kid, becomes a true father in that moment, and his arc toward salvation begins.

Ford’s regular supporting players are all in fine form, with Ward Bond enjoying an especially meaty role as the sheriff, Perley Sweet. Harry Carey, Jr. is a credit to his father, to whom the picture is dedicated, with his performance as the sweet-natured William, whose outlaw title as the Abilene Kid contrasts with his inherent goodness and faith. At 43, Mildred Natwick is more than a decade too old for her character, and she only has one big scene, but she really knows how to make it count. Other reliable Ford actors in the background include Jane Darwell, Ben Johnson, and Hank Worden. In addition we get the delightful Pedro Armendáriz and silent film veteran Mae Marsh. Armendáriz proves quite the scene-stealer with his exuberant personality, while Marsh makes a good counterpart to Ward Bond as the sheriff’s wife, especially in the final scenes.

Fans of the Western are sure to appreciate the film’s opening tribute to Harry Carey, who died in 1947. For more of John Ford, John Wayne, and the Ford crowd of characters, see Fort Apache (1948), She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), The Quiet Man (1952), and The Searchers (1956). Ford also directed powerhouse classics like The Grapes of Wrath (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). Mae Marsh is best remembered as the doomed sister in The Birth of a Nation (1915), but she actually has uncredited roles in a number of Ford pictures, and both she and Pedro Armendáriz appear in Fort Apache. Be sure to catch the late-career performances of Harry Carey, Jr. in The Long Riders (1980), Gremlins (1984), and especially The Whales of August (1987).

Classic Films in Focus: SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON (1949)

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949) is the second act in John Ford’s trilogy of cavalry films, and it does indeed wave the patriotic frontier banner pretty fervently, but the title’s feminine pronoun also suggests the picture’s deep preoccupation with the familial and romantic aspects of cavalry life. With John Wayne cast in a distinctly paternal role, this narrative contemplates an older man’s relationship with his substitute children, both the younger officers under his command and a young woman who stands in for his own lost daughters. While the usual Western battles and chases, plus Ford’s beloved Monument Valley, provide the story with its excitement and grandeur, the domestic scenes form its sentimental heart. Wayne and Ford fans justly rank She Wore a Yellow Ribbon as a favorite, but fine performances from Victor McLaglen, Mildred Natwick, and Ben Johnson also help to cement the picture’s enduring appeal.

Wayne plays Captain Nathan Brittles, a career cavalry officer facing a plethora of problems in the days just before his retirement. A massive Indian uprising is destabilizing the entire territory, even as Brittles’ commanding officer (George O’Brien) saddles his patrol with two women trying to catch the stagecoach back to the East. The tough and experienced Abby Allshard (Mildred Natwick) proves her mettle as a cavalry officer’s wife, but her attractive niece, Olivia (Joanne Dru), creates conflict between Brittles’ junior officers, Lieutenant Cohill (John Agar) and Lieutenant Pennell (Harry Carey, Jr.). With the brash younger chiefs of the tribes stirring up trouble and the women slowing his progress, Brittles must keep order within his ranks and strive to head off a deadly frontier war.

John Wayne gives a particularly sensitive performance that prefigures some of his later, more mature roles, especially those in which he takes on overtly paternal roles. In his early forties when he made this picture, Wayne is aged with a little makeup and a lot of gray hair to portray the older Captain Brittles, who dreads his retirement from the only life he has known for forty years. The usual Duke bravado is tempered by Brittles’ emotional attachment to his long dead wife, who lies buried in the fort’s cemetery along with his two small daughters. Brittles frequently visits the graves to tend to them and report on the day’s events. We understand that his fatherly interest in the headstrong Olivia has a lot to do with his yearning for his lost family; his own daughters might be about Olivia’s age had they lived, and he even tells his wife that Olivia reminds him of her. With the living he is less able to articulate his feelings; he silently pats Olivia on the shoulder and jokingly bickers with his devoted comrade, Sgt. Quincannon (Victor McLaglen), but the people around him know exactly how to interpret his behavior, and he is fiercely admired and respected by his men.

Ford stocks the supporting cast with his usual company of players, a reliable crowd of tremendously talented actors who lend both humor and gravitas to all of Ford’s films. Victor McLaglen provides comic relief as the thirsty sergeant who is following his captain into retirement, while Mildred Natwick brings great courage and warmth to her role as “Old Iron Pants,” the cavalry wife who only leaves the fort to get her niece away before the long, hard winter. John Agar and Harry Carey, Jr. both look fine in their blue uniforms, even if Carey seems a bit miscast as a privileged son of eastern wealth, but Ben Johnson steals their thunder with his charismatic, casually brave Southerner, Sgt. Tyree. It’s never clear why Olivia doesn’t set her sights on him instead of the other young men. Beautiful Joanne Dru, who had already starred with John Wayne in Red River (1948), makes an excellent Olivia; her strong chin and flashing eyes tell us that she could, in fact, “be Army” if she would just set aside her stubborn pride and settle on one of her suitors. Filling in the smaller roles are George O’Brien, Arthur Shields, and Chief John Big Tree as the elderly Pony That Walks, who laments that old men like himself and Brittles cannot stop young men from going to war.

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon won an Oscar for its sweeping Technicolor cinematography, making it the only Academy Award winner or nominee of the cavalry trilogy. For the full trio, see Fort Apache (1948) and Rio Grande (1950). John Ford’s best pictures with John Wayne include Stagecoach (1939), The Searchers (1956), and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), though you’ll find Victor McLaglen and Mildred Natwick joining the director and star for memorable roles in the cherished Irish romance, The Quiet Man (1952). Catch Ben Johnson, Joanne Dru, and Harry Carey, Jr. in Ford’s Wagon Master (1950). Take time to appreciate Ford’s love affair with popular songs and music; just as “She Wore a Yellow Ribbon” dominates the score of this film, so “Streets of Laredo” informs 3 Godfathers (1948) and “My Darling Clementine” lends its yearning theme to the 1946 film that shares its name.

Classic Films in Focus: THE ENCHANTED COTTAGE (1945)

Few romantic movies could be more tenderly affecting than John Cromwell's sentimental drama, The Enchanted Cottage (1945), which stars Dorothy McGuire and Robert Young as imperfect people who find an unlikely love affair awaiting them in a small seaside house. This might, in fact, be the perfect classic film for Valentine's Day, especially for those who want love to come to everyone, not just the beautiful and the fair. This sweet story, with moving performances from Herbert Marshall and Mildred Natwick as well as the leading couple, is exactly the sort of thing to watch with the love of your life, or at least with a pint of ice cream and a box of tissues at hand.

Robert Young stars as Oliver Bradford, whose original wedding plans fall apart after he's maimed and scarred in the war. Hoping to hide from his former fiancee (Hillary Brooke) and his flighty mother (Spring Byington), Oliver takes up residence in the little cottage where he had intended to spend his honeymoon. There he encounters Laura Pennington (Dorothy McGuire), a plain, kindly girl who doesn't seem to mind his injured looks. Oliver marries Laura without any real romantic feelings about her, but something magical happens to the pair after their wedding day.

It's true that The Enchanted Cottage treads lightly where the protagonists' appearances are concerned, but the story suggests their flaws more than it actually shows them. Without makeup and carefully styled hair, in ill-fitting everyday clothes, Dorothy McGuire simply looks like a normal person instead of a movie star, but the transformation scenes still work to great effect. Robert Young's injury makeup includes some scarring around one side of his face, which he accentuates with a useless arm, but he's much easier to look at than, say, The Phantom of the Opera (1925) or The Man Who Laughs (1928), and probably even less scarred than Joan Crawford in A Woman's Face (1941). Both McGuire and Young work hard to sell their characters' self-images as flawed, McGuire with timidity and sadness, and Young with bitterness and despair. We are meant to feel for and with them, and the film succeeds in making that happen.

The love story is presented with a brief frame tale featuring Herbert Marshall as the blind composer, Major John Hillgrove, who befriends both Oliver and Laura and functions as a sort of perfect witness to their early sufferings and eventual happiness. Hillgrove sympathizes with Oliver's despair over his war wounds, having been blinded in the previous war, and it's worth noting that the actor had a special understanding of the role, as he had in fact lost a leg in World War I. Marshall is so good with his artificial leg that you can spend the whole movie fruitlessly looking for any sign of it, but his personal history lends additional pathos to the scene in which the two injured men speak of their feelings and reveal the individual costs of war. Mildred Natwick provides another counterpoint to the young lovers as the widowed owner of the cottage; her relationship with Laura is subtle but effective, and she has several brief but moving scenes that ought to go straight to the heart of any sensitive viewer.

The Enchanted Cottage earned an Oscar nomination for Best Musical Score, and music plays an essential part in the story. The composer, Roy Webb, would collect seven Oscar nominations in all but never win, which is a shame when one considers that his other work includes Cat People (1942), Notorious (1946), and Out of the Past (1947). For more of Dorothy McGuire, see The Spiral Staircase (1945) and Gentleman's Agreement (1947). You'll find Robert Young in The Canterville Ghost (1944) and Crossfire (1947), although he's best remembered today for his later television roles on Father Knows Best and Marcus Welby, MD. See Herbert Marshall in Trouble in Paradise (1932), Foreign Correspondent (1940), and The Letter (1940), and catch Mildred Natwick in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), The Quiet Man (1952), and The Court Jester (1955). Spring Byington plays much less irritating mothers in You Can't Take It with You (1938) and The Blue Bird (1940), but I also enjoy her crazed housekeeper performance in Dragonwyck (1946).

The Enchanted Cottage is available on DVD from Warner Archive, but you cannot currently rent it on Netflix.