I was a TV addict at a very early age. I lived with my grandparents, and my grandfather and I used to fight over what to watch on his television. He loved westerns; we watched "Cheyenne," and "Wyatt Earp," and "Rifleman," and numerous others during the fifties. I didn't quite share his enthusiasm for these shows, but it was a way to pass the time with him. But after seeing "The West Divide," I know why he loved westerns so. Some may refer to it as a B movie, but I think the B stands for basic. There's something thrilling about its lack of artifice. The sound of fists connecting to flesh doesn't have that ungodly amplification that later, more technically sophisticated examples of the genre had. The sentiment is rarefied like the open air. When the heroine is shot, it's played out plainly and purely; sometimes you can get a stronger emotional effect without a musical score. And the sequence with the runaway team is bracing; I figure the legendary Yakima Canutt stunted in this scene.
And then there is the young John Wayne. I think it is during this period in his career that he proved himself to be the giant star he became. When he dons white buckskin in "The Telegraph Trail," he becomes almost otherworldly. Here he plays a man posing as an outlaw to find the killer of his father. By the time he has set things right, lying supine in his long-lost brother's arms, you understand why so many moviegoers couldn't get enough of him. His entire body in that moment gives way to the scene, and you cherish how tenderly and passionately he's willing to play his part. This movie taps into that well of memories some of us have with family and loved ones, and as Father's Day is tomorrow, it helps remind me what deep, elemental emotion men often feel that these days goes unacknowledged. I certainly wasn't aware of it in those days with my grandfather; but I've gained a new consciousness that has come with my being about his age at the time and watching things I know he'd have loved. Like "The West Divide." It makes you wish they made more westerns like this one.
And then there is the young John Wayne. I think it is during this period in his career that he proved himself to be the giant star he became. When he dons white buckskin in "The Telegraph Trail," he becomes almost otherworldly. Here he plays a man posing as an outlaw to find the killer of his father. By the time he has set things right, lying supine in his long-lost brother's arms, you understand why so many moviegoers couldn't get enough of him. His entire body in that moment gives way to the scene, and you cherish how tenderly and passionately he's willing to play his part. This movie taps into that well of memories some of us have with family and loved ones, and as Father's Day is tomorrow, it helps remind me what deep, elemental emotion men often feel that these days goes unacknowledged. I certainly wasn't aware of it in those days with my grandfather; but I've gained a new consciousness that has come with my being about his age at the time and watching things I know he'd have loved. Like "The West Divide." It makes you wish they made more westerns like this one.