"Liberty Valence...one more time"
It was a mining camp, filled with criminals, misfits, and drunkards. There were pimps and hookers in greater abundance than wives and mothers. When two people had a conflict, it frequently ended in a shooting. Killing a man was legal because there was no law, no sheriff, no courts, just men with guns. When the men got paid their wage they would head into town for rot-gut alcohol, gambling, and sex, and the only protection they had was the gun on their hip. If we think today’s urban ghetto is bad, it had nothing on the lawless, makeshift mining towns where men came to make their fortune or die trying.
Some men were better than others, but morality was a vague acquaintance for just about everyone. You didn’t survive long if you were chained to a strict moral code. So, most men unchained themselves from what was likely to get them killed. It was the beginning of civilization. At least it was, in the old West. The birth of nations, however, has never been much different.
This period ended a little more than a hundred years ago and had its heyday in that period following the Civil War, coming to a close sometime around the turn of the century. Even then, elements of the culture remained in places, well into the 20th century before civilization finally took over.
One of the most memorable films ever made on the subject was John Ford’s classic “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence.” The film covers the period after the railroad came and a civilized society began to take root, looking back to a generation earlier, when hard men carved towns out of the dust of the prairie and not much else.
The film has three core protagonists, John Wayne, who plays the mostly decent frontiersmen who laid the foundation of civilization out of nothing, mostly thru sheer will and grit. Liberty Valence, played by Lee Marvin, is as bad a man as ever appeared on screen, which was Marvin’s stock and trade as an actor. Marvin’s Valence is no cartoon character, he is the bully personified. He is the eager predator, looking to pick off the weak members of the herd that fell behind. And there is Jimmy Stewart, who plays a young idealistic lawyer, lacking any real sense of what he’s bitten off by moving to this lawless frontier. No gun, a stack of law books and, maybe, guts equal to Wayne’s tough as nails frontiersmen, but not much else.
In one of the great masculine moments in American cinema, Stewart’s dude is working in a place where men eat—thick, fat steaks with potatoes smothered in onions and gravy—a place where a cheap meal could provide nourishment that could carry a man for a while. He’s wearing an apron, a woman’s garment, signaling unintentionally that he is the weakest of the weak. No self-respecting man dresses like a woman, not unless he wants to be easy prey. It is the only signal that Liberty Valence needs. As the dude makes his way to a table, carrying a tray full of food, Valence deliberately trips him, knocking the dude and his tray of food over the dirt floor. This is the predator’s moment, Valance demands that Stewart pick up the mess. “Go ahead dude, pick it up.” He says. With one hand on his gun, just waiting for the dude to act. If he does, Valence will humiliate him and probably kill him, and there is no law that can or will do anything about it. It’s at that moment that John Wayne stands up, having seen enough, pulls back his coat slightly showing his gun and says “No, Liberty, you pick it up.” There is no bluster, no sneer, just steel-eyed calm from a man who’s seen the worst in men and always came out on top. Now the choice is Liberty’s, does he take the risk? He knows the reputation of the man making the demand. The odds are against him. This is the bully exposed as the coward. His warped psychology on display for everyone to see. So he chooses to laugh, saying, “It’s not your fight” to Wayne’s character, trying to show that he’s not afraid, even as he backs down. But we know better. The audience knows what Liberty Valence is; he’s every punk who is suddenly aware that he’s in deep water and there’s another, larger predator in there with him, just looking him up and down and waiting for him to move.
In all my years of movie watching, there may be no more virile moment in film. No gun play follows. Nobody dies. Instead, Ford brilliantly uses the moment as a springboard, building tension, as he tells his story. By holding back, he lets the narrative grow, and our concern for the actors grows with it. When the climax finally comes, we are fully invested in the lives of these people, making the outcome personal, much more so than it would’ve been otherwise.
Ford’s movie is an allegory about America’s not-so-long-ago history, told the way people have told their stories for thousands of years, by reducing the complexity of life to a few protagonists, thereby making it easier for his audience to relate to and digest. It is the art of the cinema, made by one of its great masters, and a few of finest actors to ever perform in the medium. There may have been better actors than John Wayne, but no more natural actor has ever, so completely embodied his roles as Wayne did. That can’t be taught. You either possess the right stuff, or you don’t, and Wayne possessed it in spades.
Thankfully, most of us will never experience as hard a life as our ancestors did. But the story arc is familiar. Bullies have not gone away. Nor or they likely to. It is simply a facet of human nature, as easily explainable as a bad childhood or some form of mistreatment by our fellow man. What is harder to digest is the way that people form into groups and seize power by virtue of their numbers, using it as badly as any bully ever has. And, worse still, given license by a society that doesn’t see them as bullies.
Political correctness has enabled precisely that kind of behavior for decades now, often doing so in the name of justice. As defined by whom? Whoever holds power, is the answer. I have watched the educated elites draw completely artificial lines in the sand, for no purpose greater than controlling the debate, accusing decent people of being racist or sexist, while ruining lives, and reveling in it all while they do so. Until now...that is.
One man--not unlike John Wayne--has taken on the bad men and faced them down until they flinched. He is a proxy for us all, in that regard. And, if he is victorious, we may have the pleasure of watching these sneering know-nothings smile, as they walk away, knowing that their time has come to an end. It will be the end of the lawless frontier town—and the beginning of civilization, once more. Who is this man? I don’t think I have to say his name, we all know who he is, and so do the bad guys.
Mark Magula
Some men were better than others, but morality was a vague acquaintance for just about everyone. You didn’t survive long if you were chained to a strict moral code. So, most men unchained themselves from what was likely to get them killed. It was the beginning of civilization. At least it was, in the old West. The birth of nations, however, has never been much different.
This period ended a little more than a hundred years ago and had its heyday in that period following the Civil War, coming to a close sometime around the turn of the century. Even then, elements of the culture remained in places, well into the 20th century before civilization finally took over.
One of the most memorable films ever made on the subject was John Ford’s classic “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence.” The film covers the period after the railroad came and a civilized society began to take root, looking back to a generation earlier, when hard men carved towns out of the dust of the prairie and not much else.
The film has three core protagonists, John Wayne, who plays the mostly decent frontiersmen who laid the foundation of civilization out of nothing, mostly thru sheer will and grit. Liberty Valence, played by Lee Marvin, is as bad a man as ever appeared on screen, which was Marvin’s stock and trade as an actor. Marvin’s Valence is no cartoon character, he is the bully personified. He is the eager predator, looking to pick off the weak members of the herd that fell behind. And there is Jimmy Stewart, who plays a young idealistic lawyer, lacking any real sense of what he’s bitten off by moving to this lawless frontier. No gun, a stack of law books and, maybe, guts equal to Wayne’s tough as nails frontiersmen, but not much else.
In one of the great masculine moments in American cinema, Stewart’s dude is working in a place where men eat—thick, fat steaks with potatoes smothered in onions and gravy—a place where a cheap meal could provide nourishment that could carry a man for a while. He’s wearing an apron, a woman’s garment, signaling unintentionally that he is the weakest of the weak. No self-respecting man dresses like a woman, not unless he wants to be easy prey. It is the only signal that Liberty Valence needs. As the dude makes his way to a table, carrying a tray full of food, Valence deliberately trips him, knocking the dude and his tray of food over the dirt floor. This is the predator’s moment, Valance demands that Stewart pick up the mess. “Go ahead dude, pick it up.” He says. With one hand on his gun, just waiting for the dude to act. If he does, Valence will humiliate him and probably kill him, and there is no law that can or will do anything about it. It’s at that moment that John Wayne stands up, having seen enough, pulls back his coat slightly showing his gun and says “No, Liberty, you pick it up.” There is no bluster, no sneer, just steel-eyed calm from a man who’s seen the worst in men and always came out on top. Now the choice is Liberty’s, does he take the risk? He knows the reputation of the man making the demand. The odds are against him. This is the bully exposed as the coward. His warped psychology on display for everyone to see. So he chooses to laugh, saying, “It’s not your fight” to Wayne’s character, trying to show that he’s not afraid, even as he backs down. But we know better. The audience knows what Liberty Valence is; he’s every punk who is suddenly aware that he’s in deep water and there’s another, larger predator in there with him, just looking him up and down and waiting for him to move.
In all my years of movie watching, there may be no more virile moment in film. No gun play follows. Nobody dies. Instead, Ford brilliantly uses the moment as a springboard, building tension, as he tells his story. By holding back, he lets the narrative grow, and our concern for the actors grows with it. When the climax finally comes, we are fully invested in the lives of these people, making the outcome personal, much more so than it would’ve been otherwise.
Ford’s movie is an allegory about America’s not-so-long-ago history, told the way people have told their stories for thousands of years, by reducing the complexity of life to a few protagonists, thereby making it easier for his audience to relate to and digest. It is the art of the cinema, made by one of its great masters, and a few of finest actors to ever perform in the medium. There may have been better actors than John Wayne, but no more natural actor has ever, so completely embodied his roles as Wayne did. That can’t be taught. You either possess the right stuff, or you don’t, and Wayne possessed it in spades.
Thankfully, most of us will never experience as hard a life as our ancestors did. But the story arc is familiar. Bullies have not gone away. Nor or they likely to. It is simply a facet of human nature, as easily explainable as a bad childhood or some form of mistreatment by our fellow man. What is harder to digest is the way that people form into groups and seize power by virtue of their numbers, using it as badly as any bully ever has. And, worse still, given license by a society that doesn’t see them as bullies.
Political correctness has enabled precisely that kind of behavior for decades now, often doing so in the name of justice. As defined by whom? Whoever holds power, is the answer. I have watched the educated elites draw completely artificial lines in the sand, for no purpose greater than controlling the debate, accusing decent people of being racist or sexist, while ruining lives, and reveling in it all while they do so. Until now...that is.
One man--not unlike John Wayne--has taken on the bad men and faced them down until they flinched. He is a proxy for us all, in that regard. And, if he is victorious, we may have the pleasure of watching these sneering know-nothings smile, as they walk away, knowing that their time has come to an end. It will be the end of the lawless frontier town—and the beginning of civilization, once more. Who is this man? I don’t think I have to say his name, we all know who he is, and so do the bad guys.
Mark Magula