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53 of 61 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Ford Prints the Legend - Sublimely, March 9, 2004
This is arguably the best Western by the best director of Westerns in the history of the genre. Ostensibly the story of the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, the legendary John Ford gives us a vision of the Old West that is violent yet idealized, frightening yet warm, grim yet majestic. Ford has often been called a visual poet, and the sublime "My Darling Clementine" is perhaps the best example of visual poetry that anyone has ever put to celluloid.Forget about comparing this film to actual historical events. While Ford knew Wyatt Earp from his early Hollywood days when Ford was a prop boy, and he claimed that Earp told him how the gunfight really happened, he also said he wasn't trying to make a documentary when he directed "Clementine". The "facts", whatever they may be, don't matter here. As the newspaperman tells Senator Ransom Stoddard in Ford's "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance", "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend." Henry Fonda's Earp is the classic Ford hero, somewhat distant and removed from society, quietly confident and basically nonviolent, but nevertheless commanding the utter respect of others (partly because of his reputation which has preceded him, and its inherent threat of violence). And, most importantly, he is ultimately unable to share in the peace and security that he makes possible for others. Next to his portrayal of Tom Joad in Ford's "The Grapes Of Wrath", this is perhaps Fonda's finest performance. He has never appeared more cool and comfortable in a role, as he laconically and assuredly inhabits the lawless frontier town of Tombstone. Contrasting Wyatt's sanguine pragmatism, Doc Holliday (Victor Mature) is a haunted, tragic outcast who has uprooted himself from civilization and drifted West. We learn that Doc was once a surgeon (the real Doc Holliday was a dentist, another negligible historical discrepancy), a valuable, functioning member of society, his career presumably cut short by alcoholism, consumption and undisclosed ghosts, which apparently still haunt him. The Clanton family provides the reason for Wyatt's accepting the job as marshal of Tombstone, by murdering his youngest brother, James, and making off with the Earp brothers' cattle. The miscreant Clantons, like the Cleggs family in Ford's "Wagonmaster", are the personification of evil, demented and motherless. The leader of their clan, known only as "Pa" (ominously played by Walter Brennan), would like nothing better than for Tombstone to remain open and lawless and free for the taking. Clementine Carter (Cathy Downs) appears as a civilizing angel from the East, who has come to rescue Doc from himself and bring him back to Boston (Ford's eternal bastion of Civilization in the worst sense, invariably inhabited by bigoted grotesques - though Miss Carter seems to have been spared this characterization). The tempestuous Chihuahua (Linda Darnell), who wants to run away with Doc to Mexico, embodies the wild, open frontier. While the climax naturally takes place at the O.K. Corral, the centerpiece of the film, as in many Ford films, is a dance. Its prelude unfolds majestically as Wyatt and Clementine meet in the lobby of the hotel and begin a stately walk toward the framework of the unfinished "first church of Tombstone", the sound of a tolling church bell and the strains of one of Ford's old favorite hymns, "Shall We Gather at the River" growing louder as the couple approaches the assembled congregation. Like many great moments in great films, the beauty of several elements melding flawlessly to create this sequence defies verbal description. The church, to Ford, helps legitimize the existence of a community, not only for religious reasons, but as a place where people can come together in fellowship, providing a foundation for that community's future existence. The dance, which takes place on the physical foundation of the unfinished church, is the turning point of the film, and provides possibly the most transcendent moment in all of Ford's work. It is the embodiment of the spiritual establishment of a real and lasting community, which, until the arrival of Wyatt and Clementine, and all that they stand for, had no solid foundation. Ford's use of comedy, often criticized for its broadness (but of which he was nevertheless proud), is sparing and deft in "Clementine". It is gentler and more restrained than his usual comedic fare, as in the humorous references to the aroma of the eau de toilette which the enthusiastic proprietor of the Bon Ton Tonsorial Parlor has applied to Wyatt's freshly shaven and coiffed person: "I love your town in the morning, Marshal", says Clementine, as she and Wyatt step out onto the front porch of the hotel; "the scent of the desert flower . . ." "That's me," corrects Wyatt, adding, explanatorily, "Barber." There is also the justly praised bit of business of Wyatt doing his seated "dance" on the front porch of the hotel, as he, somewhat passive aggressively, ignores the shrewish admonishments of Chihuahua. This casual, reportedly spontaneous creation of Fonda's (or Ford's, depending on the source) succinctly captures the essence of the relationship between the two characters. Ford's innately masterful sense of composition and lighting, which he displayed throughout his career, is magnificently displayed in "Clementine". The sweeping diagonal of the bar in the saloon as Wyatt walks to the door after Chihuahua's operation; the expressionistic shadows which constantly envelop the doomed Holliday's face; the somber, monumental tableau of Wyatt and Morgan, bending over the dead body of their brother Virgil in the street at night; all of these images resonate indefinitely in the viewer's memory, and all reveal a visual master in his prime. Many of the reassuringly familiar faces of Ford's legendary "stock company" are faithfully present, as was nearly always the case - with slight variations - over the years. Ward Bond, Jane Darwell, Russell Simpson, Mae Marsh, J. Farrell MacDonald and the ever-present, ever-endearing Francis Ford, John's older brother and former mentor (and a veteran of Hollywood from its infancy), all add their warm, familial qualities, counterbalancing the darker aspects of the film. Of all the Westerns I've seen, "My Darling Clementine" is the most eloquent, the most understatedly awe-inspiring - the most poetic. John Ford printed the legend. Sublimely.
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