The Quiet Man

Blarney and bliss, mixed in equal proportions. John Wayne plays an American boxer who returns to the Emerald Isle, his native land. What he finds there is a fiery prospective spouse (Maureen O'Hara) and a country greener than any Ireland seen before or since--it's no surprise The Quiet Man won an Oscar for cinematography. It also won an Oscar for John Ford's direction, his fourth such award. The film was a deeply personal project for Ford (whose birth name was Sean Aloysius O'Fearna), and he lavished all of his affection for the Irish landscape and Irish people on this film. He also stages perhaps the greatest donnybrook in the history of movies, an epic fistfight between Wayne and the truculent Victor McLaglen--that's Ford's brother, Francis, as the elderly man on his deathbed who miraculously revives when he hears word of the dustup. Barry Fitzgerald, the original Irish elf, gets the movie's biggest laugh when he walks into the newlyweds' bedroom the morning after their wedding, and spots a broken bed. The look on his face says everything. The Quiet Manisn't the real Ireland, but as a delicious never-never land of Ford's imagination, it will do very nicely. 

Sean Thornton (Wayne) arrives in his familial home of Inisfree to trade the bustle of the States for the sleepy charms of the Emerald Isle. He’s allured and bewildered in equal measure by the locals’ quaint ways and antiquated values, making him a pretty ideal avatar for anyone watching The Quiet Man today. And just as Thornton ultimately comes to find more to love than hate in the old-fashioned oddness of his new neighbours, Ford’s film remains highly endearing even as it shows its age.

It’s a true Sunday-afternoon American classic, rife with casual misogyny, hammy acting and slapstick humour, but with that old-school Hollywood sparkle in its eye. Stepping back from the epic Western landscapes in which he built his legacy, Ford’s skills as a filmmaker flourish just as easily in this humbler setting, crafting a film filled with gorgeous shots and without a single wasted frame. 

Rio Grande

The last and least memorable of John Ford's famous cavalry trilogy (following Fort Apache and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon), Rio Grande nonetheless has an interesting continuity about the gentlemanly rules of military conduct. Here the focus is on the family. While creating a heated controversy over his handling of the Apache war, John Wayne must also contend with disgruntled wife Maureen O'Hara and estranged son Claude Jarman Jr., a new recruit trying to earn his father's love and respect. Ford seems to suggest that there are two conflicting codes of honor in every cavalry officer's life, the personal as well as the professional, and that it takes an act of heroism to maintain both. It's fascinating to observe Wayne's progression throughout the trilogy, as his personal stakes intensify. Also, this is the first of five onscreen appearances between the Duke and O'Hara, each filled with a competitive spirit and stormy sexuality.

In John Ford’s epic Western, “Rio Grande,” which is part of a trilogy, John Wayne plays Lt. Colonel Kirby Yorke, a man fully committed to fighting the Indians.

At the film’s start, Yorke returns from an abortive mission aimed at capturing Indians who have crossed over into Mexico. Fighting the enemy has almost become a lost cause, because the U.S. and Mexican governments have agreed not to cross the Rio Grande under the circumstances. The Apache, however, take advantage of the situation: They raid the whites, then escape safely across the border.

This kind of impasse irritates Yorke because the matter is beyond his control–the border sanctuary set-up and the shortage of troops impede his mission to make the place safe for the American setllers. Following a further attack, General Sheridan (J. Carrol Naish) gives Yorke informal permission to cross the border and smoke the Indians out of their hideouts, once and for all.

A breach of international law, Wayne puts his loyalty to Sheridan, his commander from the Civil war, over and above the illegality of the mission. He accepts the plan wholeheartedly, unable to conceal his frustration over the unchecked Indian attacks. Wayne is even willing to risk court martial, though Sheridan promises to handpick the court’s members if it comes to that.

This streak of independence is integral to the John Wayne charismatic heroes, all men living by their personal code of ethics rather than by a set of legal rules. It is interesting to mention that the script initially called for a scene in which Wayne is punished for his illegal action and is sent to London as a military adviser.

However, director Ford thought that it was both anti-climactic and incongruent with the star’s image, and the scene was deleted. Like most of Wayne’s films, this Western also contains a rather straightforward confrontation between the generations, with Wayne again playing both biological and sociological father.

Putting duty before love, during the Civil War, Lieutenant Colonel Kirby York followed orders and set fire to the plantation of his wife, Kathleen (Maureen O’Hara), for which she has never forgiven him.

Moreover, a tough disciplinarian commander, Wayne does not glamorize the military way of life to his recruits. On the contrary, in his first address, he makes sure to spell out as realistically as possible the hardships of such life.

Later on, Wayne is genuinely disappointed that his trooper son, Jeff (Claude Jarman Jr.), has failed at West Point Academy (a reference to Wayne’s own failure in real-life), and is ashamed that he has to enlist in the army as a recruit. Nonetheless, he tells Jeff, who has been posted to serve under him, “Put out of your mind any romantic ideas that it’s a way of glory. It’s a life of suffering and hardship, an uncompromising devotion to your oath and your duty.”

Characteristically, Yorke tells Jeff that he can expect no special favors, “on the official record you are my son, on this post, you’re just a trooper.” And it is clear that Wayne expects, and in fact will demand more, of his son than of the other recruits, because” he is his son.

Refusing to believe in or even acknowledge failure, he conveys this message authoritatively to his son, “You’ve chosen my way of life. I hope you have the guts to endure it.” However, as in the war movies, Wayne’s toughness is also a facade. He is the father who watches through the hospital’s window how castor oil is administered to Jeff, and he’s also the father who checks his son’s height against his own on the tent’s sides, taking pride in his growth.

As for the romantic subplot, it’s quite routine. Wayne meets his wife after fifteen years of separation, when she comes to the camp to reclaim her son, announcing herself as “trooper Jeff Kirby’s mother.” She wants to buy Jeff’s release, but Wayne refuses to sign the paper, claiming stubbornly, “Here he’ll stay and here he’ll serve.”

O’Hara then talks to Jeff against his father, “He’s a lonely man…a very lonely man,” but Jeff replies, “They say he’s a great soldier.” “What makes soldiers great is hateful to me,” she declares.

When Jeff refuses to leave the post, she is irritated, “You’re stubborn proud, Jeff, just like he is,” but he contradicts her, “Just like you, mother.” O’Hara tries to persuade Wayne but to no avail, “I could say yes very easily, but I owe something to Jeff.”

When the women and children have to be sent to a safer area, however, Wayne relents and assigns Jeff to be one of the escorts, which pleases her, “He’ll hate you for it, Kirby, but I’ll love you for it.”

Jeff breaks through the Indian camp and rides off to bring help, after the women are attacked and some of the children abducted. Trooper Tyree (Ben Johnson) then chooses Jeff as one of the two men to creep into the camp and protect the children during the raid. Later, when Wayne is wounded, Jeff pulls the arrow out, a symbolic ritual, bringing the two men closer, and also serving as a rite of passage, transforming Jeff into a full-fledged man.

By the end of the saga, Wayne endorses his son and admits he outdid him in his toughness. This confirmation, both symbolic and pragmatic, is explicitly stated by Yorke, “You did all right,” and Kathleen, “Our boy did well,” indicating she both understands and accepts her husband and now son’s way of life. It is the father’s role to put his son through the necessary male rituals by which he will become a “real man,” but the mother’s confirmation of her son’s newly-gained status is also important.