Auteur List: Howard Hawks - Discussion and Defenses

[therewillbeblus]

I Was a Male War Bride’s deconstruction of sexual politics has never struck me as particularly novel, but Hawks gets a lot more mileage out of the mismatched gender dynamic, relying on the holds of his wartime setting as opposed to inherent strengths in the social predicaments. Grant is always great (shh.. we’ll forget about his next Hawks comedy for now), and his extra touches like traditionally effeminate gestures (especially near the beginning, when he’s not consciously doing them as a response to his emasculated positioning) work to supplement the film’s weaknesses. Unfortunately, the players aren’t being as funny or romantic as they think they are, and any foggy sexual tension is lost on me, though I do think there is a (perhaps intentional) strength in the lack of chemistry spawning a romance that is so clearly offbeat beyond the inconsistently effective gags.

Like all Hawks, this moves in a fluid motion that never allows itself to become tiresome. A few setpieces are gems, like the early one where Grant needs to hide after being trapped in Sheridan’s room, and the pacing picks up as the couple do grow closer, with some interesting ideas thrown in to counter the initial puzzling attempts to find a tone. I actually like this film quite a bit, but as far as his (credited) 40s films go, it’s near the back row.


The Big Sky: Unfortunately I only got to see the shorter cut both times so I have no sense of how much better the longer version is, but I still like the film well enough. There is an immediate investment in the affinity between men as well as in the mission itself, with Douglas endearing but not stealing scenes beyond serving as a focal point for some collaborative positive energy. I appreciated the humility in the act of sharing the screen, with Douglas taking more of a back seat in the narrative than his star power should allow. The film functions as an evolving western-like adventure full of narrative possibilities that are realised, and comfortable relationship-building along the way. I enjoyed the perceptual musings on human nature and inanimate nature, and a romanticism coats each conversation and action in one way or another. As the narrative progresses the amusement of these evolving relationships hit a point of stagnation where the second half loses some steam, but perhaps the longer cut fixes these issues?


O’ Henry’s Full House: I know one needs to vote for the whole film per the rules, but I’m just going to speak to Hawks’ The Ransom of Red Chief segment. It’s not great, but there are self-conscious pleasures to be found in the darkness of articulate gentlemen scheming to kidnap a child nonchalantly. The tranquility with which the immorality is discussed is chilling but funny in concept, and having the kid gain the upper hand as he has more social comprehension than either of these sociopaths is a strong idea. The episode isn’t particularly interesting beyond a few hypocritical gags in favor of the situation, but both Allen and Levant are funny, even when the rest of the elements here start to come undone. I would be surprised if Home Alone wasn’t directly inspired by this segment, down to the dynamic between kidnappers, and even some lines that feel replicated- close to verbatim.


Monkey Business: My relationship with this film is like the definition of insanity: I continue to watch it (I’ve definitely seen this at least five or six times) and expect a different result. I cannot fathom why a screwball with the right players, the right writers, the right director, and a premise full of hilarious possibilities, can all fail so miserably.

The main anchors holding back the potential are in the script and pacing. Everything is so sloooow to start. I get that Grant’s character is supposed to be stiff and tempered to measure a transformation, but the long-winded opening scene is like a one-act play with no purpose. Grant is so subdued that his reaction shots, intended to make lines like Monroe’s “punctuation” slip up for “punctuality” funny, instead make us just as bored as he seems to be.

That’s the other issue: that Hawks is shooting a script trying too hard to yank jokes instead of allowing the ridiculous premise to play out organically. This is strange, considering Hawks’ own frustration with the ‘unbelievable’ plot limiting laughs and his personal philosophy for how to elicit humor, because the script is so aggressively forceful that regardless of the ideas, the film was doomed according to Hawks’ own sense of humor. What I struggle with is the pacing though, because Hawks can always be relied on to keep his films moving and refrain from a state of stagnation. It’s like he’s having an ‘off’ day all around.

After the first third, when the actual spark ignites (why does it take so long for this to happen?! And who thought the monkey’s pandering about the lab was funny?) the players find some footing, though this is still inconsistent. Grant’s erratic behavior is intermittently amusing but instead of behaving like a youth, he’s more like the same square person on amphetamines. Grant, who has great potential to be humorously juvenile, fails completely at playing the part - though in his defense the script gives him nothing to work with. Rogers is (slightly) more exciting dumbed-down to girlishness, but again - the drawn-out dramatic interludes while she and Grant debrief his escapades, she takes the potion, and waits for the effects to kick in… I just don’t understand what the point is. It’s like watching paint dry.

I’ve already written more on this film than it deserves, but there is a great moment where Rogers asks Grant if he really loves her. He’s confused, and she says, “it just occurred to me.” Silly immature potion-influenced hormonal Rogers can see clearly how awful and selfish and boring he is. She’s the wisest character in the film, and she’s a blubbering idiot.

The baby gag at the end is funny, especially when it involves Coburn, because Coburn trying to engage with children like adults is always funny. But even Coburn falls flat until the end, which should indicate the worth of this film better than anything else I've written.


Gentlemen Prefer Blondes: I already wrote up a few lines in the 50s thread, but after watching a bunch of male-directed Hawksian films, I feel compelled to examine this as turning the tables and allowing the women to become dominant. I’m not suggesting that Hawks is a feminist or that he is wholly progressive and not problematic in his examination of female prioritizations, but he finds a resilience in Monroe’s ability to use her assets to achieve her goals. The two women are now the centerpiece of friendship, even if they don’t always support one another in every mission, for they care far more for their sisters than any man who crosses their paths. Russell may not approve of Monroe’s methods but she prioritizes helping her gal devise her way out of self-inflicted jams through clever plotting and uncompromised force.

The number where Russell’s eyes pop over the man’s bicep objectifies the dancer with typically-male ogling, and her dismissal of a courter’s brag about money reduces his charms to superficial ulterior motives by revealing his manipulative methods as transparent. The ‘dumb blonde’ shtick is another strategy at rendering a man impotent, but by tricking him with a spitting image of what he wants to see in a ‘lesser gender.’ Like in his male-dominated films, sex is not important, but the thrill of being alive and independent is (even if, in this case, that means latching onto various men in a dependent way!) - The terrific scene where they trick the man into drinking too much prays on scathing the male’s big-red-target of an Achilles heel, as well as demonstrating that the capacity of women to overpower men is equal when allying with another. Teamwork via devoted companionship is the ultimate weapon, the language that action is made of, and demographics matter not when you have social support to give you strength.

Coburn’s role is a wasted opportunity, though as I’ve mentioned my favorite gag involves him as the straight man to Monroe and the boy’s circus arms trick. These bits of genius comedy are inconsistently dispersed, and are played too safe. For example, that gag could have been milked for longer than twenty seconds- but instead it’s cast aside almost as soon as it’s set up. The empowerment of women may be loose and I understand why critical eyes may treat the portrayals uncharitably, but Hawks finally created a club with No Boys Allowed, and made his women the coveted members with the secret password. I’ll admit to knowing next to nothing about its critical appraisal, or domino’s indication of this being influential amongst Hawks’ auteurist studies, but it’s a unique breather in his filmography - even if it too wears conservative clothing, just with liberal colors.

[knives]

Finished up the available silents not seen by me.

Paid to Love is my favorite of this trio and just about the most massive improvement over Fig Leaves imaginable with the opening three minutes providing more hardy laughs than the whole of that film. Hawks seems to be going after a Lubitsch flavor. Regular collaborator Miller's script tries hard to be like a silly von Stronheim film and Hawks leans into that having actors really go over the top with a gesticulation focused style of performance. The film is at its most Lubitsch with William Powell's devious and panty dropping role as the interesting prince.

As the movie floats to its second half it masks itself in a play of drama like a more earthbound Shakespeare comedy. The scenes could be a straightforward drama, but the film frames this as a mutual though not consenting set of dupes (think The Lady Eve or Trouble in Paradise) making the plainly dramatic look of the picture funny in itself. McCarthy doesn't argue this, but I'd be tempted to say that Hawks however much with love is providing a parody of the popular German cinema in having it framed as an absurd joke. That adds a nice twist to the love making scenes which look dramatic, but ultimately I found them very funny.

A Girl in Every Port is a pretty good comedy even though it stands fairly deep in the shadows of the same sort of male nonsense Ford was doing at the same time. I'm really beginning to wonder when Hawks made an identity for himself and stood outside the shadow of other directors?

Anyway, the plot of McLaglen's blue balls leading to male bonding is pretty funny on its own and the film speeds through so quickly that it never becomes a burden. No major merit outside of fun, but that is as ever okay for 80 minutes.

Finally, Fazil, a small scale Sheik knock-off weirdly mirrors Paid to Love as it involves another vehicular obsessed nobleman who is brought a foreigner in order to quell fears about no scion being brought forth. The main difference being that this plays out more like a pure drama and is all the weaker for it. My main point of interest is in how this is however much post-facto a reflection of the transition into sound. The soundtrack sort of matters to the text (though the constant refrain of habibi to represent Arabness made me giggle) and we even get sing along moments accompanied by musical notes. None of these innovations seem to matter to Hawks and McCarthy doesn't even bring them up to give a sense of how unimportant they are. Still, it's a fascinating look at how different producers dealt with the idea of sound in these early days.

[therewillbeblus]

Man’s Favorite Sport?

This was just great as I remembered, and a wonderful rebound from the awful Monkey Business. Hawks reportedly thought Hudson was too stiff, but his self-serious rigidity is perfect in the screwball straight-man role, especially one harboring a secret rooted in a mushy lack of stable identity under the exterior of a man who is pretending to be self-actualized. The realism of the premise fits more in Hawks’ wheelhouse, and so he feels comfortable exploring the vulnerabilities of man when his system of fakery is disrupted.

Prentiss fills the shoes of the Hawksian woman wonderfully, and her relentless assured guesses at Hudson’s weakness are funny and cathartic power moves. I love Hawks in this mode of dismantling male security to reveal repressed sensitivity, and he is finally back to his old habits of effortlessly moving action along, and eloquently staggering gags with visual and audio supports. The indoor carnival scene where the lights and sounds malfunction as he publicly attempts a private confession is a great example of creating an eclectic framework, layering jokes with mechanisms that provoke multiple senses at once. The confession Hudson makes is a beautiful moment that marks a kick-off in possibilities for a collaborative plot, but also initiates his first step in self-discovery and personal betterment, aided by Prentiss as a necessary player. Their dynamic is blazing and I can’t imagine a better one for this film. Prentiss continues to emasculate Hudson throughout, with the ‘kiss’ scene being an impressive bit of physical comedy on her part.

The form of the narrative morphs from a zippy comedy to weaving these threads into the tranquil beats of Hawks’ ‘hangout’ movies. This patience marks this middle road between Hawks' lean 30s comedies and A Song Is Born's looseness, forming a great compromise between his current mode of jovial flexibility and traditional firecracker pacing- a blend that shouldn't be as successful as it is. The runtime actually works marvelously (wasn’t this originally even longer?), producing a liberal sense of freedom into various setpieces, which never feel dragged out but instead allow scenes to breathe, and help populate a funny idea with extra mannerisms and expressions that accentuate the gag. The Bringing Up Baby repurposed dress-gag late in the film works very differently than the original for the subtle idiosyncrasies we detect in close-ups and the sacrifice of conservative editing. I’m glad others here seem to appreciate this gem too, as it’s truly a uniquely timed screwball comedy in an era when most were relying on sexual themes than classic gags of neutral buffoonery. There are both of course, but those who argue that this is a rare late-screwball have strong points and I'm inclined to sway in that direction.

[Rayon Vert]

Blus and knives, you're both doing a chronological run through of the oeuvre. Blus, your pace is pretty much a Twentieth Century, and knives a Rio Bravo.

[therewillbeblus]

Ha, well don't forget- I did do most of my viewings before the project started and already finished a week ago

Since I got advanced notice about getting redeployed to work this week (where I am now), I got a bit of a head-start just in case things go down a certain road. I'm currently in the 50s, but I'll try to stagger my posts a bit so as not to just dump the 27 writeups I already have and run.

I finally finished off my revisits with Rio Lobo tonight

I'm just dumping them here and there when I have time. I'll probably just toss the last three in a final post, since I only really have strong opinions on Ed Dorado

[Rayon Vert]

Your timing for Man's Favorite is pretty good, because I'm watching that tomorrow night. I didn't like it too much the first time, but given the opinions stated on this board am looking forward to seeing what a revisit will do.

[knives]

I prefer being thought of as Rio Lobo. Also I'm not doing a strictly chronological viewing, nor anywhere near complete, so I guess more like Trent's Last Case. Did I just burn myself?

[therewillbeblus]

Your timing for Man's Favorite is pretty good, because I'm watching that tomorrow night. I didn't like it too much the first time, but given the opinions stated on this board am looking forward to seeing what a revisit will do.

I'm looking forward to your thoughts- it definitely improved for me on a chronological viewing, especially seeing it as a pull between the leisurely hangout movie and whipsmart comedies. I was reminded of Renoir's Picnic on the Grass at times with the splitting of attitudes, which results in different shades of the same nouvelle vague-esque playfulness.

[HinkyDinkyTruesmith]

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
I've seen this before, and enjoyed it quite a lot then, but I suppose it was overshadowed by the second film I watched that night––Rio Bravo. I just rewatched this tonight and then read some other comments on it, as well as Robin Wood's remarks in his book on Hawks. I mean, I guess he's correct in his general analysis. I admire him quite a bit but the way that he seems to, I don't know, miss the fun? is very telling. He remarks in his retrospective comments that Dorothy and Lorelei are women born from male fantasy. I don't know from that. The entire movie is a fantasy, for chrissake. Nothing about it at all resembles reality, and in terms of thinking about it as a Howard Hawks movie––I'm just as happy not doing so. I suppose Lorelei and Dorothy's friendship resembles, in some way, 'the group' of most of Hawks's films, but I don't think it effectively captures the radiancy that their friendship holds. It's such a pleasure watching Monroe and Russell play two friends who sincerely seem to love each other: not in a mushy way, where they constantly fawn over each other with 'girl power!'-esque scenarios, but––well, it's chemistry, I suppose. Like a good romantic couple, not that this film is too far off from that, seeing as the final image is a lesbian wedding. The film's gaudiness, its non-commitance to decrying Monroe's erotic greed, or Russell's greedy eroticism (which Wood sees as a flaw), its near pointlessness, its broad comedy (the kid! the fucking kid!)––this is up my alley, all the way. This is femme cinema, it simply spirals out of Hawks's control (not that he seemed to have too much interest in keeping it in his control, seeing as he had nothing to do with the big musical numbers). This is, in some ways, the closest anyone else got to von Sternberg's cinema, with its love of artifice, makeup, clothing, the power of women, the frailty of men. Of course I'm stretching the point: but there's something spectacularly loving in Russell's Monroe parody, and while Hawks and Wood probably would take it at face value as satire, to me it seems nothing more than the clear demonstration of the extent to which these women know each other. The impersonation (kudos to Russell) is simply too good, too rich, too generous. Of course these women are fantasies, but not solely those of men.

It also seems more than likely that Rivette had this, at least subconsciously, in mind when he made Celine et Julie.

[therewillbeblus]

I can't see the argument that these women are male fantasies of women, unless most men enjoy being emasculated and I'm out of the loop. Their type of friendship is the core of the Hawksian 'groups' interest, but the code is boiled down to the essential ingredient of unconditional support and clearly blossoms from there in novel directions as you say. I think it fits just fine, but doesn't need to be overanalyzed to define itself into a specific schema and instead is a shift of the broad worldview that Hawks embodies, which is itself a mix of fantasy and reality.

[knives]

I can't see the argument that these women are male fantasies of women, unless most men enjoy being emasculated and I'm out of the loop.

I'm trying to think of a good joke for what is one of the most popular genres of porn, but I'll let that stand for itself instead.

[therewillbeblus]

Ha, I'm aware of that- and almost used different language to reference it myself- but my point still stands. Arguing that these empowered women are male fantasies in 1953 is a charitable (and fantastical) reading of men of that time being not only 'willing' to sway the power differential so strongly, but as their default image of women to dismantle the patriarchy in that ideological era.. yeah right

[therewillbeblus]

Red Line 7000 is just as bad as I remembered, basically a retry at The Crowd Roads but in the Swinging 60s. There are enough colors popping, dances bopping, and social action to momentarily halt the destined stagnation from poor performances, story, and script, but not for long. Oh well, it’s not a film I’m angry about seeing twice, as the leisurely appeal is there per usual, but it won’t get anywhere near my list and is at the bottom of Hawks' oeuvre for me.


El Dorado bests Rio Bravo in every way, though it’s got more of a rough texture to it that wanders away from a ‘hangout’ vibe to meditate on personal history, shared and recontextualized by separate growth, as well as a stark examination on death. The early self-defense killing of a boy quickly turns to a somber, empathic connection between Wayne and the young man. Morality isn’t contingent on the killing, but the responsibility of who put him there, and all of this can be divorced from action momentarily in appreciation of a life.

Hawks’ digs into the distinct worlds of those who follow rules and those who do not, in a unique method by beginning with differentiating ‘good’ guys. Rio Bravo took time to meditate on this line, and holding it regardless of risk, but in El Dorado we witness the differences in action exemplify themselves to counter the other like a game of tennis, rather than having a group maintain this mantra around the others’ violations. In the first half hour of this film, we have scenes where ‘good’ characters like Mitchum and Wayne confront to investigate first, and imbue a trust in humanity that trumps selfish gain. The other ‘good’ group (the ranchers being oppressed) may be on the ‘right’ side, but they sneak up from behind, shoot in cheap shots, act in vengeance outside of fair play, and generally do not abide by a code. Wayne practices self-defense but confronts the other good group to take responsibility, issue it, and debrief, endangering himself to connect with another. That’s how important this code is- and Hawks’ focus on the two protagonist circles, rather than just the good and bad guys, helps outline the consequences of morality.

This film is also just thrilling excitement, along with being a hangout pool of characterization. The midpoint nightwalk and belltower shootout is well orchestrated, and uses blocking of multiple players expertly. In so many ways this remakes Rio Bravo, down to specific scenes and characters, but bests it across the field (there is a great repeat of the end of The Big Sleep too that’s even more brutal! - making this a bit of a Hawks’ Greatest Hits). The dynamic between Wayne and Mitchum is deeper and has less of a power differential that distracts me in the 50s film, yet with the same themes of self-respect and mutual support. That's not to say that films with characters' stability divides are problematic, but the relationship here works better for me. Wayne can say, “I’ve been there” to validate Mitchum on his hangover rather than serve as a therapist-sponsor (such as his relationship dynamic with Martin in the 50s film), and this allows Mitchum to save face as well as humanizes and dignifies both men as fallible and equal from their accumulated histories aside from specific current action. Rio Bravo feels thinner every repeat viewing as Martin is judged on his current state of combatting his alcoholism with will power, with Wayne as his guardian-angel jury providing him with decrees of worth based on whatever is happening on screen as defining the man.

The evenness of the men in El Dorado is heartening, and is always present in the air even as each pushes the other with tough love and support. It's even visually depicted by the crutch under one arm of each at the end. Other Rio Bravo comparisons that work better here include the sharpshooter kid who joins the crew- where a character like Mississippi has an impassioned history of self-discipline and empathy before he joins up with the party, rather than tacking himself on without these affirming shades of personality fleshed out (yeah, the racist Chinese impression kinda doesn't do the character any favors, but his own weaknesses with being a poor shot are appreciated and add layers to the humanity of the group of winners, who are allowed to be losers in some areas just the same). Wayne returns to a more ambiguous character, not as dense as Red River but thicker than Rio Bravo, and it's interesting to watch him and figure out how his philosophy and history have worked to shape the man over time. Even his confused response to heterosexual courting at the end works much better here than his last two Hawks pics! The theme song is wonderful too.

I can appreciate why one may not like this as much as Rio Bravo, but aside from the blood dripping in the drink scene I'll pick this any day. Definitely a lock for the back third of my list.


Rio Lobo starts off with a bang, a great train robbery drawn out to spin itself into another casual narrative. The relaxed vibe doesn’t mesh quite as well with the action plot, though there are enough setpieces to keep this breathing even at a brisk pace. The problem is that the characters themselves don’t warrant investment, so the spectacle of an A-list filmmaker shooting a loose programmer will have to do. It’s a fine cap to a career of narratives permeated with collaborative enjoyment, but not a list-contender. His previous film was his best hangout movie, and would have been a better note to go out on, but this is fun enough to revisit now and again.


Well, that's that. Time to read the McCarthy biography.

[knives]

I suppose technically you still could try to (re)watch The French Connection for pure completion's sake as well. Apparently, according to McCarthy, Hawks was in the middle of scripting a remake of A Girl in Every Port which would have made Hatari! look like a film of narrative when he died.

[therewillbeblus]

I suppose technically you still could try to (re)watch The French Connection for pure completion's sake as well.

Why, because Hawks gave Friedkin some advice about a car chase?

[HinkyDinkyTruesmith]

Ha, I'm aware of that- and almost used different language to reference it myself- but my point still stands. Arguing that these empowered women are male fantasies in 1953 is a charitable (and fantastical) reading of men of that time being not only 'willing' to sway the power differential so strongly, but as their default image of women to dismantle the patriarchy in that ideological era.. yeah right

I can only imagine men in 1953 were as apt to dream about women like Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell pursuing them as men in 2020. We can talk about 'ideological eras' until the cows come to roost, but when you're sitting in the dark, you owe no allegiance to anyone but yourself.

[Rayon Vert]

Man’s Favorite Sport? Shows what a revisit can do because I thought this was pretty flat the first time around, but definitely not the case on second viewing. I don’t think it’s always successfully hitting the funny bone (I’m thinking of the broad comedy fishing scenes for one thing), but the scenes where Hudson and Prentiss relate are always winning. I may have been put off a bit too the first time by some of the very 60s studio, TV-ish Gilligan's Island-type fake exterior scenes, compared to the preceding Hatari!, but actually a bit of artifice works for this genre. Those early scenes before we get to Lake Wakapoogee are actually quite stylish and stunning in terms of sets and colors (they really look great on blu ray). That scene with Hudson walking to keep pace with the revolving bar is really a stand-out moment.

The whole thing thematically is a bit of a very loose remake of Bringing Up Baby (without even mentioning the stolen ripped dress scene) in terms of the two lead characters and their qualities, and the fact that they “leave civilization” towards a more natural, “primitive” environment where the male will undergo his transformation (animals here again, including the bear) – except they aren’t as excessive; Prentiss not quite the anarchic force that Hepburn was in the earlier movie, and Hudson not as nerdish or uptight as Dr. Huxley. Prentiss is of course the best thing here, but Hudson is quite likeable and competent too, and does as well as you could see Grant doing. I wouldn’t call this a hangout film per se because it does stay pretty plot-focused and doesn’t center on a gang “hanging out”, but I understand where twbb is coming from in that it’s a very relaxed tempo. At a full two hours for a broad comedy like this, it feels like Hawks is taking a page from Wyler, but actually it sustains itself nicely and there was only once where I felt it sag just a bit. This has a pretty good shot of making the lower rungs in my top 15.

[therewillbeblus]

Ha, I'm aware of that- and almost used different language to reference it myself- but my point still stands. Arguing that these empowered women are male fantasies in 1953 is a charitable (and fantastical) reading of men of that time being not only 'willing' to sway the power differential so strongly, but as their default image of women to dismantle the patriarchy in that ideological era.. yeah right

I can only imagine men in 1953 were as apt to dream about women like Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell pursuing them as men in 2020. We can talk about 'ideological eras' until the cows come to roost, but when you're sitting in the dark, you owe no allegiance to anyone but yourself.

My point is whether they were accessing those fantasies openly, whether in art or even to their conscious minds within the confines of an 'ideological era.' I agree with your post, but it doesn't get at what I'm trying to say. I obviously need to read Wood's book for his specific context, but just because we currently live in an era that reinforces identity-exploration as divorced from ideology doesn't mean that was always the default- or as easy to even consciously explore alone in the dark.

[knives]

I suppose technically you still could try to (re)watch The French Connection for pure completion's sake as well.

Why, because Hawks gave Friedkin some advice about a car chase?

Yeah, I'm planning on watching Allan Dwan's The Good Bad Man for less reason than that.

[HinkyDinkyTruesmith]

Goodness, goodness, identity, ideology––"I fear those big words which make us so unhappy." Joyce certainly had no issues fantasizing about voracious women. Ideological eras may make confines––but their capacity for dictating what exists within and without them has certainly been overexaggerated by historical narratives regarding them. The 1950s we think of is not the same one that ended with Ann Bannon's lesbian paperbacks selling like hotcakes, a full ten years before Stonewall.

As for Wood, here is a quote: (forgive any typos, I copied from a PDF)

"The characteristics of the Hawks Woman have been thoroughly defined, and there is no need to recapitulate them here; no one, presumably, will now wish to enroll her in the Feminist cause. The women in Hawks's films, for all their vividness and idiosyncrasy, are clearly conceived from the male viewpoint: one would not wish to claim that women find a 'voice' in the films that is not male-determined. This is as true of the one Hawks film centered on women, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, as of the rest: Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell are there very clearly the embodiments of contrasted yet complementary male fantasies." (171-172)

Wood's auteurism––something I usually go to bat for!––is showing, and certainly he seems unwilling to grant the actresses any authority. He's very obviously, in his earlier essay in the book on the film, limited by his anti-capitalist perspective (not one I necessarily disagree with); he sees Lorelei's beliefs as silly, and feels Russell must step up to provide sanity (something she doesn't fully do). I can't help but see this as clearly at odds with the film, which ends with Lorelei making a very sane argument about the value of money in a relationship.

[therewillbeblus]

Again I'm not disagreeing- but to be more clear, assuming that it's as simple as 'not owing allegiance to anyone but yourself in the dark' minimizes the immense challenges that people undergo to fight their own defenses to accessing these parts of their 'selves' - barriers which are often most threatening within one's own mind (overcoming core beliefs, fighting the dissonance between a fetish and engrained cultural norms), not externally enforced. Acceptance still isn't easy for people today, speaking from personal and professional experience, but maybe it's easier for you or others to default to transcendental practices, self-acceptance, and letting go of shame more easily alone in the dark. I don't think it's fair to cite Bannon and Joyce as examples of how the general population was responding to the conflict between the true self and societal messaging in the past, but I agree that people were capable of this. Still, that doesn't mean that the 50s' narratives exaggerating what can and did exist within them affects the real psychological struggles people have by the nature of existing in a society, and there exist more public messaging that provides support to alleviate shame today compared to the 50s. My point is not that men are or were not capable of having fantasies about strong women and relieving them of their power, or that this cannot come out in art, but that this doesn't feel like an 'oh of course' reading of the collective male fantasy.

We're obviously mostly in agreement and my initial comment was speaking to a hypothetical general male fantasy defined by self-acceptance through consciousness, that has now spun into various contextualizations. At this point it feels like we're talking past one another and not interpreting the other correctly, so in an effort not to continue to misread, I'll just say again that I agree with you on what you are talking about, though not in response to what I'm obviously not communicating clearly. I am confused by your "goodness, goodness" quip, but I guess I have a strong interest in the link between how we cope and form our identities in response to ideology, and is what my entire point is about, so that seemingly condescending dismissal alone proves there's no conversation here.

[therewillbeblus]

Wood's auteurism––something I usually go to bat for!––is showing, and certainly he seems unwilling to grant the actresses any authority. He's very obviously, in his earlier essay in the book on the film, limited by his anti-capitalist perspective (not one I necessarily disagree with); he sees Lorelei's beliefs as silly, and feels Russell must step up to provide sanity (something she doesn't fully do). I can't help but see this as clearly at odds with the film, which ends with Lorelei making a very sane argument about the value of money in a relationship.

Moving on to the film again, I agree with your reading here. As I hinted at in my initial writeup, Monroe's "ability to use her assets to achieve her goals" takes the dumb blonde persona and allows her to use her sensuality to gravitate towards financial security rather than provide sex (which is really my main argument, on a superficial level, against the male fantasy reading). The 'gold digger' trope is allowed to exist for this realistic, and therefore somewhat dignified, value through fantasy. It's also a game, a way to have fun and flaunt power to gain some independence and esteem, not wholly unlike the games we play in real life. Especially related to heterosexual relationships here, the games between genders where there's a naturally enigmatic space that reflects a gap of absent knowledge and is simultaneously filled with an equally confounding sexual change, is well-drawn; another truth embedded into a fantasy like the value of money communicated through song.

[HinkyDinkyTruesmith]

I am confused by your "goodness, goodness" quip, but I guess I have a strong interest in the link between how we cope and form our identities in response to ideology, and is what my entire point is about, so that seemingly condescending dismissal alone proves there's no conversation here.

I'm somewhat in agreement with what you've said in full (even if I cut out most of quoting)––although, and this is not personal, I'm really trying to respond only to what's being written. I might make assumptions based on my reading of other posts you've made, but, I try to avoid that. I feel like attending to the words and not the poster places a higher responsibility on me to also be very clear in what I may say.

As for the "goodness, goodness," it was not meant at you, but just a general sigh! Because it's true. I don't like using these concepts––identity, ideology––things I have spent a lot of time engaging with and writing and reading about––I don't like using them unless I feel that the text courts them specifically. Which, I know, is problematic given that, ideology especially, they both are pervasive. But they seem, to me, needlessly large, needlessly heavy. They bog down other specifics. Which I suppose is another way of saying: if I'm going to talk about a movie, and a character's identity is involved, I'm not interested in the meta-level: "she uses her identity"––I'm interested in the specifics: "She uses her hourglass figure and soft voice"––at least in Monroe's case.

My citing Joyce and Bannon, I think, is exactly appropriate, because I'm not trying to talk about everyone. I'm talking about specific people. I'm talking about the capacity of individual people to have non-"normal" thoughts and feelings. It's on me for expressing this generally, but a group is made up of individuals, after all. Citing Joyce isn't fair, you're right. He was very unusual in many ways. But I wasn't actually citing Bannon as an individual: I was citing her as an author, and an author who sold––her debut novel, Odd Girl Out, has been claimed as being one of the best selling paperbacks of 1957. This is a lot of people who read a book about a torrid lesbian affair, the year before an ostensibly heavily heterosexual movie like Rio Bravo––John Wayne conservatism. If we were to spend all our time thinking of the 1950s as a time of conservative ideology, then we think of the movie as the cliché, I think, many people imagine when they hear 'John Wayne'. Big man that hates the Reds (both kinds). But this is of course not the movie we have: a lazy, funny, quirky movie––and one distinctly pleasurable in part for how feminine John Wayne can come off: how flustered he gets when Angie Dickinson quarrels with him, his big blue eyes somehow so vulnerable (compared with their harshness in The Searchers). I could go on.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is a specific movie, with specific details, that specific people watched. If Wood argues it's a male fantasy, he's probably referring to Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell largely concerned only with men or money, bouncing on beds and getting drenched in pools, bursting out of coats into burlesque outfits. If someone like Wood can ignore most of the movie's details in favor of the movie he thought he was watching, well, I think any given man could ignore the movie they thought they were watching, or the one they were making, in favor of enjoying the sheer beauty of Monroe and Russell's bodies on screen, even if they often are performing amongst crowds of men who they bend at their will. Is this really so unappealing for the Manly Man of 1953? These aren't dykes we're talking about. These are icons of femininity, voluptuous femininity exerting that charm and gorgeousness on men of all ages, sizes, proportions. You Too Can Be Gold-Dug By Marilyn! You Too Can Flex In Front Of Russell! But, again––there's a lot to look at, and women have eyes too.

[therewillbeblus]

That all makes sense but your response supports what I just said. I can’t believe I’m saying this but again I agree, yet we’re still talking past each other. While I don’t buy that your comment wasn’t meant to be belittling or directed at mine, I have to say “goodness” myself at this continual misread, not in provocation but out of exhaustion. Nobody is saying that people are not having specific thoughts, Bannon might serve your purpose as an artist doing this, and you may like or dislike terms by which you prefer to discuss a movie. But you were responding to my point, which was related to “general” psychology and I made an effort not to get specific because, as I said, I am interested in how these terms work in a deeper way in the minds of people universally. I think I’ve been specific enough in dissecting 50s films before to show rather than tell that I agree with your Rio Bravo statement.. but as a response to my points I don’t get it.

Nobody is saying that by considering these concepts, any experience depicted is cliche. This feels like a point completely divorced from my remark that supposed that Wood was generalizing the male fantasy to something specific, and I intended to counter it with what I feel are perfectly fine terms, to convey a general psychological process in navigating social context that may impede this. The lengths to which I got specific in my initial intent were to highlight that it's challenging for people to step outside of their comfortable schemas, even in their fantasies, and for men in the 50s I imagine there were both similar and novel barriers to reaching these parts of one's identity compared to today. I recognized that this was likely not what Wood was talking about, but I admitted that and here we are talking about opposite ideas in response to one another still. Saying that the movie itself is specific also doesn’t counter my point because mine was directed at a basic mental process, so that’s another head nod from me in affirmation but nowhere near my posts’ intents.

The simplest way to say this to make sure it’s not misinterpreted again is that you are interested in (and just said your posts are designed at) getting specific while I was interested in being general this time. I chose to read the male fantasy as a collective and focus on the broad barriers and you were talking about specific artists creating specific ideas in confronting these fantasies. I’m with you, but we are discussing different ideas completely.

The ‘alone in the dark’ comment seemed ominous and assuming and frankly invalidating to my point that this is challenging (not impossible!) for people, which is why I kept going but we’ve already agreed on your “I'm talking about the capacity of individual people to have non-"normal" thoughts and feelings” line that defends your reading. There’s no reason to defend it, because I support it, but please understand that I was making a general point that you chose to dissect on your terms. It’s ridiculous to continue to counter the other with points that are agreeable so if you want to continue this conversation maybe we should have it over PM without derailing the thread further. My last post attempted to move past this to engage in a discussion on the film itself, so perhaps we can return to that since it’s a place we’re both willing to be specific.

[Rayon Vert]

Come and Get It. Same impression as last time revisiting this. The film starts off so strongly, creating a typically Hawksian environment centered around work, and the trio of Barney, Swan and Lotta are quite a lot of fun. There’s just tremendous energy and vitality in these early scenes, culminating in that gleeful saloon destruction scene. The film becomes something else entirely the more it progresses, however, and though the change in directors has something to do with it (Wyler was brought in for the later scenes), the script is obviously the first thing responsible. Around the time Barney goes back decades later to visit Swan and meet the younger Lotta is when I feel the energy starts seeping out, and it turns into a rather predictable, if quirkily Oedipal, romantic/family melodrama that really doesn’t have much to do with Hawks’ regular universe (although Robin Wood saw strong parallels between this and Red River, both in the story and character dynamics and in the uncharacteristic splitting of the film in separated time periods, which he sees as both outliers in the oeuvre).

The film is a bit strange in that for a long time Edward Arnold’s character is the main focus, and he’s clearly grotesque in his ambition but not entirely unsympathetic. I guess that figure driven by unlimited ambition does get resonances elsewhere in some of Hawks’s films, though: Muni in Scarface of course, but also one thinks of the Edward G. Robinson roles in Tiger Shark and Barbary Coast.