The Last Hunt

“The Last Hunt” (1956) is a superior western and contains what is probably Robert Taylor’s finest performance.

With that statement, it’s possible I’ve already lost some readers, as Robert Taylor seems to be among the most lambasted figures from Hollywood’s Golden Age. Many think he is as dull as dishwater and is among the most wooden, one-note and transparent performers from that period. (I suspect his biggest critics are Barbara Stanwyck fans, and those who can’t forgive him for being a friendly witness to the House Un-American Activities Committee).

Some people may really think Taylor was a terrible actor, and they are entitled to their opinion. But the hatred for him seems way out of proportion. Dan Callahan, in his recent book on Barbara Stanwyck, is particularly harsh on Taylor.

But the Movie Corner has always been, and always will be, an avid Robert Taylor supporter, though I think his post-war career was far more interesting and varied than his pre-war work. There were some good assignments at the first half of his career at M-G-M, but there was also far too much fluff in movies like “Personal Property” (1937), “Remember?” (1939) and “Lady in the Tropics” (1939).

(I think Vivien Leigh exhibits more chemistry with Taylor in “Waterloo Bridge” (1940) than she does with Clark Gable in “Gone with the Wind” (1939), but don’t tell anyone I said that).

In many of these M-G-M assignments he was asked to stand around and look uncommonly handsome. But watch him in tougher roles from the same time frame, like the boxer in “The Crowd Roars” (1938) and the western “Stand Up and Fight” (1939). There’s a little more fire there, more enthusiasm, as if he wants to break out of the pretty boy formula roles forced on him by Louis B. Mayer. (Taylor was among the most loyal employees M-G-M ever had, never turning down or questioning a role. He was also the longest-tenured contract player in the history of M-G-M.)

Like his compatriots Tyrone Power, Clark Gable and James Stewart, Taylor served his country during World War II and came back a more mature and guarded figure. The looks and bearing had coarsened, and despite the best efforts of Hollywood’s make-up wizards, they couldn’t hide what these men had experienced during the war. It’s as if they aged a decade in two years.

Taylor’s post-war career gave him a strong number of really good films,  but he was never better than in “The Last Hunt”, where Taylor plays what is probably his most out-and-out villainous role – a mean, sadistic and racist buffalo hunter who takes immense pride in slaughtering buffalo He’s genuinely great in it, and he certainly should have been remembered at Oscar time.

 

I’m thinking that when “The Last Hunt” opened in 1956, it was pretty startling to audiences used to more traditional westerns. Written and directed by the underrated Richard Brooks (from a novel by Milton Lott) “The Last Hunt” is an adult western in the best sense, with a cast of distinct characters each bringing different dimensions to the table. Because they’re by themselves during hunting season, there’s plenty of opportunities for the contrasts to come to the forefront.

Robert Taylor is Charlie, who starts off mean and only gets meaner as the movie goes on. He partners with the easy-going Sandy McKenzie (Stewart Granger), who grew up among the Indians and respects their traditions. He hunts for the money the buffalo hides will bring him, but takes no pleasure in the slaughter, unlike Charlie.

The always-great Lloyd Nolan plays Wonderfoot, a peglegged skinner who is the best in the territory. He’s realistic about life and harbors no grudges against anything. Russ Tamblyn is Jimmy O’Brien, a half-breed who questions his identity and place in the world, and is an easy target for the Indian-hating Charlie.

“The Last Hunt” was filmed on location in the scenic grandeur of the Black Hills and the Badlands, and while the vistas are magnificent, what plays against it is anything but.

 

 Almost unbearable to watch today are the scenes of the buffalo hunting. According to a disclaimer at the beginning, the scenes of the buffalo being killed are real, and were committed by actual sharpsmen hired by the government for the annual thinning of the herd. It’s hard to watch, especially in one scene, played in relative close up, where a white buffalo (sacred to the Indians) is killed by Charlie. It looks painfully real.

What else riveted audiences to their 1956 seats? There’s also a scene where Charlie utters, twice, the phrase “I’ll be damned.” Hardly eyebrow-raising now, but it must have startled audiences at the time.

There’s also a scene where Sandy rubs manure over an Indian brave’s wounds to help cauterize them. The towns in the movie also don’t resemble sterilized western towns from other films of the era, but look like the dirty, dingy places they really were, with small, ramshackle buildings separated by muddy streets. The saloon girls don’t look anything like Ann Sheridan in “Dodge City” (1939), but tired, worn out and defeated by life.

But it’s the dynamics on display here that are the most interesting. Taylor’s character despises Indians, and when an Indian girl (Debra Paget) becomes part of their camp, accompanied by a young child, when a brave she is traveling with is killed by Charlie, his hatred only intensifies.

Paget’s character is never given a name, which seems pretty demeaning, but I think Brooks is saying something more. To many in the west at the time, Indians weren’t people at all, and not worthy of a name. (I don’t know if the character has a name in the novel. I started to read it, but couldn’t get through it. There’s only so many pages describing buffalo skinning one can read).  

 

 

Charlie’s feelings about Indians intensify when he’s around the Indian girl. It’s also obvious he’s sexually attracted to her even as he hurls insults about her people. There’s a scene where they’re laying next to each other on the ground, and he’s this close to having his way with her, and I’m still not sure how that got past the censors at the time.

 

Paget’s casting in the role would criticized today, but it was a smart move by M-G-M. Paget had played an Indian maiden in one of the biggest western hits of the entire decade in “Broken Arrow” (1950), and later again in “White Feather” (1955). She’s very good in the role, but as my readers know some of my likes by now, in my mind Debra Paget can do no wrong, and she can be cast in any role at all. Heck, they could have cast her as Father Flanagan, and it wouldn’t faze me at all.

All the actors are fine, but it’s really Taylor who shines. His contempt for humanity is evident in every scene, and when he does soften a bit towards the end, it’s too late. His comeuppance is one of the most unusual I’ve ever seen, and it has stuck with me through the years from the first time I saw it.

 

 

Even when he isn’t playing as morally complex a character as Charlie Gilson, there’s just something I’ve always liked about Robert Taylor. True, he may not be the versatile actor out there, but I just enjoy watching him. A sturdy, agreeable presence, if he was rarely great, he was never bad, and was often good. I would rather watch a Robert Taylor movie over some of his more celebrated colleagues, and I was surprised to see how many of his movies I have in my DVD collection. Let the cynics complain, and make fun of his real name (Spangler Arlington Brugh), but I will always beat the Robert Taylor drum, proudly and loudly.

Stars and Stripes Forever

After watching a spectacular fireworks display at the local park, and still experiencing a patriotic high, it seemed appropriate to pull out my VHS copy of “Stars and Stripes Forever” (1952), Twentieth Century Fox’s Technicolor tribute to march composer John Philip Sousa. There’s only the modicum of a plot, but the performances are so likeable and the music is so great, that I forgave the lack of story and dramatic incident.

Admittedly, I don’t know too much about the real life of Sousa, but if there’s no real drama regarding his life, then I’m fine with not making up conflict and letting us instead enjoy the music and period trappings.

Clifton Webb stars as John Philip Sousa and he’s great as always. I can watch him in anything. We usually think of Webb as the caustic, snobbish type, but he can also be remarkably subtle and moving.

A few weeks ago I watched, and thoroughly enjoyed, “Titanic” (1953) where he and Barbara Stanwyck most believably play a long-time married couple watching their marriage unraveling and his betrayal that their son is not Webb’s. The scenes with Webb and son on the sinking deck (hardly giving anything away here, folks) are very moving. Webb accomplishes so much with so little.

In “Stars and Stripes Forever” Webb enjoys wedded bliss with his wife (Ruth Hussey) and three children. Perhaps there’s not enough Sousa and too much footage given over to a romance between sousaphone inventor Willie Little (Robert Wagner) and dancer Lilly Becker (Debra Paget), but they are both so beguiling and charming in this that I didn’t care. In fact, it may be the most likable performance from Wagner I’ve ever seen. He’s almost like a stalker in his attempts to play under Sousa, but he’s so upfront about it and so eager to be in the presence of the great man that I rooted for him the entire time.

(I do know enough about Sousa’s life that he himself invented the sousaphone and not some guy named Willie Little. But then how else is Willie going to ingratiate himself with Sousa than by telling him about his invention of the sousaphone? It’s a great scene and Webb’s befuddlement is a joy to behold.)

There’s also a very amusing scene where Sousa is leading the United States Marine Band at a White House function hosted by the 23rd president, Benjamin Harrison.

The receiving line is taking too long and a presidential aide asks Sousa to play something livelier to move the line along. Sousa plays his famous march “Semper Fidelis” and President Harrison is pleased that the music’s quick tempo makes those in the receiving line move much faster. (They should play that march at the receiving lines at some wedding receptions I’ve been to.)

I’ve always had an interest in U.S. presidents and can’t recall another film where Harrison was portrayed. If anyone knows of any other films featuring Benjamin Harrison, I’d love to hear about it.

Arguably the best studio orchestra in the 1950s was the Twentieth Century Fox one and with Music Director Alfred Newman leading the orchestra you know that the famous Sousa marches are going to be given a first-rate treatment. Many of Sousa’s most famous marches are performed and they can get the blood flowing in a corpse.

For the Olympics buffs out there, the film’s orchestrations are provided by Leo Arnaud, whose own Olympic fanfare is as well-known as any Sousa march.

The Sousa band not only played his marches, but other compositions as well. We get robust performances of “Turkey in the Straw”, the “Light Cavalry Overture”, “Dixie” and a stupendous choral performance of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Fox choral director Ken Darby is responsible for the latter, and when Newman and Darby teamed up you knew one’s ears would be burning with pleasure for the length of the movie.

There’s a lot of musical talent here and if one of the film music labels ever released the tracks it would make a wonderful album of American music.

Speaking of musical talent, Debra Paget as showgirl Lily Becker has a terrific number called “When It’s Springtime in New York” and also dances to Sousa’s “Washington Post” march. She’s a wonderful dancer and it’s too bad she didn’t have the opportunity to do more musicals. I always wondered about that.

Fox was known for their musicals starring blondes like Alice Faye, Betty Grable, June Haver and Marilyn Monroe. Did Zanuck not want to top line a brunette in one of the studio’s musicals? I know musicals were slowly easing their way out in popularity in the 1950s, but I still would have loved to have seen Debra Paget in more musicals.

In addition to the music, the film benefits from the glorious Technicolor that Fox lavished on their musicals. Even in my slightly faded VHS copy of the film, the colors burst through.

Director of “Stars and Stripes Forever” is Henry Koster, a great favorite of mine. He directed many a movie I’m very fond and many of them are what some people might pejoratively call “nice movies.”

Not from me, though. There’s a lot of heart and humanity in Koster’s films but with the treacle held back. I think he’s incredibly underrated and anyone who schedules a Henry Koster Film Festival would earn the happy gratitude of the attending audience.

I wrote about Koster before in my look at “The Robe” (1953) – I know, shoot me, but I love it. One can’t go wrong with any of these titles: two Deanna Durbin films “First Love” (1939) and “Spring Parade” (1940); “The Bishop’s Wife” (1947); “Come to the Stable” (1949); “Harvey” (1950); and “A Man Called Peter” (1955). There’s many others in his neglected filmography.

If memory serves, “Stars and Stripes Forever” was due to be released on DVD about five years ago, but it never happened. Since “The Egyptian” (1954) was announced for release at about the same time, and it’s finally coming out this month on DVD on the specialty Twilight Time label, I’m hoping that we will soon see “Stars and Stripes Forever” on DVD. It’s a movie to be enjoyed over and over again, not just on the Fourth of July, but all year long.

Demetrius and the Gladiators

This year’s Easter viewing was “Demetrius and the Gladiators” (1954), a more than respectable sequel to “The Robe”, which had come out the year before.

It’s one of the better sequels, in fact, and offers more action and visual splendor than “The Robe.” Now, I’m a big fan of “The Robe”, but I won’t deny that’s it an exceedingly talky film, odd for a film that introduced the splendor of Cinemascope to audiences. As if to make up for the static quality of “The Robe,” the sequel is loaded with action.

“Demetrius and the Gladiators” opens with a recap of the last scene of “The Robe”, where Richard Burton and Jean Simmons are ordered to their deaths by Roman Emperor Caligula. Jean Simmons gives The Robe (the cloth Jesus was wearing when he was crucified) to an onlooker, saying, “For the Big Fisherman.”

Big Fisherman is Peter (Michael Rennie), who returns in this movie. So does Demetrius (Victor Mature), the freed Greek slave who witnessed the crucifixion and is one of Christianity’s first converts, and Caligula (Jay Robinson, even nuttier than in the first film).

Caligula thinks The Robe has magic powers, and has sent spies to look for it and bring it to him. He also becomes convinced he’s a god.

New characters include Caligula’s uncle Claudius (a non-stuttering Barry Jones), Claudius’ wife, the scheming temptress Messalina (Susan Hayward), and Lucia (Debra Paget), a young Christian woman who is in love with Demetrius.

All I can say is if more Christians looked like Debra Paget, the religion would have spread a lot faster than it did. (That will likely add some time in Purgatory for me, but I couldn’t help think it while watching the movie. But then I’ve always had a thing for Debra Paget.)

Demetrius undergoes a crisis of faith when he mistakenly believes Lucia is killed by mauling gladiator Richard Egan. Demetrius becomes not only a champion gladiator, killing his foes left and right in the arena, but the latest lover of Messalina, all before Peter again brings him back to the fold to spread the word of Christianity throughout the Roman Empire.

The production is handsome to look at and there’s all sorts of familiar faces on hand to keep us entertained. One year before winning a Best Actor Oscar for “Marty”, Ernest Borgnine wields the whip as Strabo, the head of the gladiator school. Fox contract players Richard Egan and Anne Bancroft are on hand for a couple of scenes. Future Catwoman Julie Newmar is easily identifiable as a dancer.

A pre-“Blacula” William Marshall is very impressive as Glycon, a king in his own country who is forced into the gladiator ring. Marshall had one of the greatest speaking voices ever and it’s just a pleasure to listen to him.

Censorship requirements of the time meant the fight scenes in the arena weren’t particularly bloody, but I would imagine audiences were still pretty impressed, and considered these scenes something of a novelty. We know them now thanks to “Spartacus” (1960), “Gladiator” (2000) and countless Italian-made spectacles of the 1960s.

But up to then, I don’t think audiences saw a lot of gladiator action. “Quo Vadis” (1951) had arena scenes, but they were mainly limited to Christians being fed to the lions. DeMille’s “The Sign of the Cross” (1932) boasts some of the most salacious and violent arena scenes ever filmed, but when the film was re-issued in the 1940s it was minus many of those scenes.

RKO’s “The Last Days of Pompeii” (1935) had Preston Foster as blacksmith turned gladiator in several exciting scenes, and because the film was constantly re-issued, usually on a double bill with “King Kong” (1933) or “She” (1935), its likely audiences got their gladiator thrills from it.

But “Demetrius and the Gladiators” gave audiences gladiator thrills in color and wide screen. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how small-scaled the arena was. It doesn’t look that big, and its audience seems to be Roman senators, Caligula’s court and members of the Praetorian Guard. I wonder if it was more of a personal arena for the Roman court, rather than one for the populace. Still, the combat sequences are very well done, and by golly, there’s real tigers taunting Demetrius in the arena, unlike those in “Gladiator” where they are obviously CGI.

(Aside: I think “Gladiator” is the worst Best Picture Oscar winners ever. “Cimarron” (1931) or “The Greatest Show on Earth” (1952) usually get the nod, but I’ll take either of those any day over Ridley Scott’s snooze fest, not only dramatically inert, but ugly and cheap looking to boot. End of aside).

The cast is all fine. Susan Hayward looks like she’s having a ball as Messalina, twisting the men in her life around her little finger, scheming and (unknowingly) letting them do all the dirty work for her. She’s a pleasure to watch.

I like Victor Mature as Demetrius, though I think he’s better in “The Robe.” I think he gives the best performance in “The Robe”, even better than Jean Simmons and Best Actor nominee Richard Burton. He’s very sincere in that role and brings a working man’s honesty to the film that helps ground it.

He’s not so subtle in the sequel, but he gives it his all and he’s always fun to watch. He never took himself seriously, but he should have, as he never gave a bad performance, and was, from what I’ve read about him, a pretty good guy off camera.

In the 1950s, my mom worked for a man who served on a submarine with Mature during World War II. He said Mature had no airs or pretensions about him. He thought Mature was one of the greatest guys he ever knew.

We have a family friend who is a huge movie buff and has been collecting autographs for decades. He would obtain the star’s address and send him or her a photo with a stamped, self-addressed envelope, so all the person would have to do is read the letter, sign the picture and return it in the envelope at no expense.

Occasionally, he would not get a response but usually the picture would be returned signed, sometimes with a nice note. He did this with Victor Mature and waited and waited but never got a response.

About a year later an envelope arrived in the mail. Inside was an autographed picture with this inscription: “Dick, Sorry about the delay. Had a fire. Best wishes, Vic Mature.”

Now THAT’s an autograph.

Director of Demetrius was Delmer Daves, who is a great favorite of mine, and who rarely made a film I didn’t like. Even when some are clunkers, like “Parrish” (1961) or “Youngblood Hawk” (1964) they are always watchable.

In “Demetrius and the Gladiators” he and screen writer Philip Dunne nicely balance all of the films themes and situations: violence and piety, court intrigue and torrid romance scenes.

No mention of the film can’t be made without mentioning Franz Waxman’s majestic score. He incorporated themes from Alfred Newman’s score for “The Robe” because he thought so highly of it. Waxman actually resigned from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences when the Music Branch neglected to honor Newman’s score for “The Robe” with a Best Score nomination. (If he thought the Academy was tin-eared then, what would he make of today’s scoring nominees? He would probably flee the country.)

One last thing, and I don’t think I’m giving anything away here with the ending. The Christians have been promised protection by new emperor Claudius as long as they don’t ferment any discord. The film concludes with Peter, Demetrius and new convert Glycon walking through the Roman palace, backed by Waxman’s truly gorgeous choral finale. But Glycon is holding The Robe, and I’ve always thought it interesting that the black character holds The Robe, rather than Peter or Demetrius. A pretty bold statement in that pre-Civil Rights era.