Friday, 5 December 2025

Characters and themes in "The Searchers"

 

Reflections on characters and themes in “The Searchers”

Directed by John Ford

Screenplay by Frank S Nugent,

based on the novel by Alan Le May

Starring John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter and Vera Miles

 

Aaron Edwards and most of his family have been attacked and kidnapped or killed in a Comanche raid. Ethan, Aaron’s brother, accompanied by a young family friend Martin Pawley, set out on what will become an epic search for Ethan’s niece, Debbie.

One of the central themes, and the one which underpins all others, is family. Family provides security and purpose in spite of all hardships as members of the various families seen in the film pull together to survive, support one another (in spite of superficial bickering), and to make something of their difficult lives. Family life is certainly idealised, though within acceptable limits, and here the hard-working, principled and devoted family members are likely to be regarded as “normal”, with recognisable relationships, traits and quirks.

Men are seen as practical and hard-working providers offering home and physical security, while women are clearly the driving force providing comfort and guidance. Men are also seen as somewhat tongue-tied and clumsy in matters of love, while women are clear-headed and show common sense.

Love, in several different forms, is also one of the main driving forces behind the action – be it love in the form of family devotion, friendship or youthful passion, love propels most of the characters and indeed may be seen as the very reason for all of Ethan’s woes as love has brought him into conflict with family values and devotion.

Ethan loves his brother Aaron’s wife and she is in love with him. Nothing is said or explained, but it is clear through a series of gestures, looks and silences that there is a strong bond of affection between them. Similarly, Ethan’s hatred of Comanches is never fully explained, though we may impute considerable and perhaps awful experience, given his detailed knowledge of their ways.

The fact is, however, that the roots of Ethan’s rage and racist hatred may lie not so much in his experience with them, but even more fundamentally in his deeply felt but impossible love for Martha, his brother’s wife. Just as love can lead to happiness and fulfilment, so its deprivation can lead to feelings of discontent, non-fulfilment and then resentment.

Ethan Edwards is a driven man – driven away by an impossible love as a result of which he must choose between hurting himself or others, driven by principle which led him to put others before himself, and finally driven by bitterness and resentment which have eaten away at him as he has lost not just his love and his family, but also the beloved nation he fought to defend.

Having lost his country and his very way of life, with no-one to offer comfort or commitment, Ethan allows himself to be so overwhelmed by anger and bitterness that he questions the very values he (presumably) set out to defend and (it is suggested) he commits criminal acts including robbery and perhaps even murder.

In the intervening period between his departure and his return we may assume, through his knowledge of Comanche ways, that apart from participating in the Civil War, he has been an Indian fighter and a hunter, among various other possible occupations. It has been suggested that his behaviour and entire manner are due to some innate racism, and while it is undoubtedly true that he displays racist attitudes, it should be pointed out that Ethan is equally dismissive of virtually everyone and whatever values they live by – be it Indians, his own brother (with whom he is decidedly tetchy at the start of the film), the Reverend, the army or traders. Ethan is equally disillusioned with them all. It is not so much that he is cynical, more that he has lost the edge of idealism and sees things clearly.

It would be easy to write Ethan off as ruled by hatred and negativity, suspicious and dismissive of everything, but how did he arrive at this point?

I would suggest that the answer to that question lies in the profound dissatisfaction coupled with a sense of loss and pointlessness arising from the situation with Martha. His emptiness and resentment undoubtedly led to a loss of direction and then rebellion – rebellion against life itself. Perhaps by putting himself in harm’s way he hoped to put an end to his emptiness, but his anger was greater than his despair and this fuelled his spirit, leading him ever farther down the path of disillusionment and bitterness.

Now, after his return, the loss of his brother, his brother’s two older children and of course the woman he loved, only serves to compound that anger and bitterness, though now they are crystallised into a single purpose (to retrieve his niece) and a single object of hate or channel for all his feelings (Comanche chief Scar).

Ethan’s sense of loyalty to family (and perhaps the fact that the kidnapped Debbie is the daughter of the woman he loved) fuels his determination to find Debbie and save her from life with the Comanches. This search becomes an obsession and provides his whole purpose for living. He channels all his energy and efforts into finding the girl, aided by the younger and much more idealistic Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter).

Together they strike a good, if somewhat uneasy, balance between experience and idealism. Martin represents hope and faith (in the sense of confidence in their purpose and a positive attitude), while Ethan is the world-weary existential “realist” all too willing to see the worst in people. Neither would be successful in achieving their purpose without the other.

Ethan, however, becomes almost consumed by the search for Debbie, so much so that he appears to lose sight of the very reason for their search, and indeed of himself, as the anger, hatred and effort he uses to fulfil his purpose become more important than his objective. As a result, because Debbie has lived as a Comanche, he no longer regards her as his niece and makes it clear he would prefer to kill her, as he would any other Comanche.

Strongly enigmatic, Ethan is not a pleasant man, yet we want and hope that he will find some happiness. Perhaps because we have some understanding of his situation (even if we don’t approve of his attitudes), and we admire his determination to find Debbie, we feel there is a good man beneath the gruff façade, and we want him to find some way to release that other man.

In the end it is idealism that saves Debbie (in the shape of Martin Pawley), though this would not have been possible without Ethan’s grim determination. Ethan cannot bring himself to kill Debbie – perhaps he sees Martha in her as he comes face to face with her, or perhaps he has found some common humanity. Like many events in the film, this is not explained and this may be one reason for the film’s enduring popularity. It invites people to ponder over Ethan’s motives and reasons. It also suggests, perhaps, that people’s actions cannot be fully and logically explained.

At the end of the film, we are left with what must be one of the most famous shots in cinema history, and one which says far more in a few seconds of wordless movements, gestures and framing than pages of dialogue could put across.

Ethan was and is a loner. An outsider. Searching for Debbie gave him a purpose, and that purpose is now fulfilled. Now he must face the nothingness of his normality, while the others return to their normality. He is an outsider whose dogged determination based on bitterness and hatred meant that he was what was needed in extreme circumstances, but there is no place for him in “normal” life. If Ethan had managed to let go of his rage and bitterness, they would probably not have succeeded in finding Debbie, yet these very qualities mean that he has essentially become a social outcast.

There are striking resemblances between Ethan and Scar, the Comanche chief responsible for Debbie’s kidnap. Both are driven by a desire for revenge after an acute sense of loss and grief (in Scar’s case, the killing of his sons in a massacre perpetrated by white men), and both are prone to sweeping generalisations, holding entire races responsible for the woes that have befallen them. Toward the end, Ethan even scalps Scar’s dead body, showing that each is as bad as the other.

Racist hatred and a blind desire for revenge may provide a powerful driving force, but one which is nothing but destructive. Surely the suggestion here is that as long as this cycle of hatred and revenge continues, social and moral progress is not possible.

Hope is offered in the shape of Martin Pawley who is willing to move on and put the past behind him. Perhaps men like Ethan and Scar were needed at one time, in certain circumstances, but as time and circumstances change, so they must change or withdraw in order to allow progress to take place.

Beautifully photographed and produced, the film remains enigmatic, perhaps, as suggested above, because not everything is fully explained and so we, the audience, are more engaged as a result.

Exciting, emotional, thought-provoking and even humorous (a phenomenal achievement, to be able to mix what amounts to tragedy with comic undertones!), the film is a monument to the talents of all those involved, and the fact that it has endured in the memories and affections of so many for some seventy years is surely the greatest testament to quality any film can receive.

 

Thank you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

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Characters and themes in "The Mission"

 

Reflections on characters and themes in “The Mission”

Directed by Roland Joffé

Written by Robert Bolt

Starring Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons

 

This is a dramatised (and significantly fictionalised) account of the Spanish / Portuguese push to drive the South American tribe of the Guarani from their homeland and Jesuit mission in the 1750s.

Author Robert Bolt uses this historically genuine event as the basis for a discussion of faith, the church, politics, redemption and the place of violence in fighting for what you believe in.

By means of two contrasting characters – Jesuit priest Father Gabriel (Jeremy Irons) and mercenary slave trader Rodrigo Mendoza (Robert De Niro) – Bolt shows the strength of human compassion, dignity and determination, and how they can be held of no consequence in the face of human greed, political expediency and the interests of a large organisation.

Rodrigo Mendoza is a mercenary slave trader who clearly shows no compassion for his victims and is a man used to having his own way. He is a man for whom the lives and thoughts of others mean little. Until the day he kills his own brother while in a jealous rage when he discovers he has lost the woman he loves to him.

Filled with remorse (Bolt seems to specialise in showing the pain of his characters), and perhaps for the first time in his life reaching out for and needing the spiritual rather than the physical, Rodrigo takes sanctuary in the local church. There, Father Gabriel offers him a channel for his remorse in joining him at his mission among the Guarani, the very people he used to ensnare and then enslave.

Rather poetically, Rodrigo drags his armour behind him (representing the heavy weight and burden of his past life) as he accompanies Gabriel up mountains, across rivers and through jungle to the mission of Saint Carlos.

Once arrived, and again rather poetically, a member of the Guarani literally and symbolically cuts him free from the burden of his armour and his past, bestowing freedom and forgiveness on the mercenary, and enabling him to get on with the rest of his life.

Gabriel has helped the Guarani harness their potential and together they have created something of a heaven on earth, developing land, livestock and living accommodation. Rodrigo readily contributes to this new life and willingly becomes a member of the Jesuit order himself.

All is going ominously well, away from political and ecclesiastical interference.

However, pressure is being brought to bear on the catholic church (in charge of the Jesuits) as Spain and Portugal divide South American territories and Portugal wishes to exercise its commercial rights by entering and taking over the Jesuit missions which come under Papal protection.

Cardinal Altamirano (Ray McAnally) is dispatched to investigate as Gabriel and the other Jesuits argue and demonstrate the Guarani are “spiritual” and are therefore entitled to continued development and protection, while the Portuguese and Spanish argue they are “animal” and require the direction (and exploitation) of a trade nation such as their own.

Ultimately, the Guarani and the Jesuits become victims of their own success as well as pawns in an international game of political chess. Commercial gain wins over religious and human success and the Guarani are ordered to leave the missions, leading to military conflict and massacre.

There is so much to admire in Bolt’s literate and intelligent script and Joffé’s engaging and subtle direction, I fear I have done little more than recount the story – surely a testament to the clarity and quality of the script.

Although the two are never entirely united, the spiritual (Father Gabriel) and the physical (Rodrigo) work together to protect and defend what they have achieved with the Guarani, Gabriel exhausting all reasonable means to achieve a peaceful solution before Rodrigo sets out to defend them militarily. Of course, Gabriel cannot endorse Rodrigo’s intentions, but there is the implication (with the gift of his cross to Rodrigo) that Gabriel understands Rodrigo’s actions, given the desperate circumstances and the fact the church appears to have turned its back on its own to side with its moral adversaries, for reasons of its own …….

Bolt appears to be suggesting that while the spiritual is essential and offers guidance, the physical is also necessary if reasoned argument fails, and especially if your opponent is willing to use similar tactics against you.

Just as Victor Hugo was an advocate of the spiritual but was opposed to organised religion in the shape of the church, so it appears that Bolt suggests that much can be achieved through the love and compassion advocated in the Bible, but this can be lost in the mire of interests of the vast organisation the church has become.

As far as performance is concerned, both Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons acquit themselves with great honour and make you feel the pain, peace, remorse and anger they portray. However, special mention must go to Ray McAnally (Cardinal Altamirano) who manages to convey weariness, joy, steely determination and profound regret, as his character sums up the situation and expresses deep-felt guilt and remorse, and as he comes to his inevitable decision and must live with the consequences.

 

Thank you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

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Characters and themes in "High Plains Drifter"

 

Reflections on characters and themes in "High Plains Drifter" (1973)

Directed by Clint Eastwood

Written by Ernest Tidyman

Starring Clint Eastwood, Verna Bloom, Mariana Hill et al.

A tall bearded stranger rides into the mining town of Lago and almost immediately provokes strong and violent reactions from nearly every member of the township through his uncompromising "eye for an eye" brand of justice. That is until the townspeople hire him to protect them from three gunmen formerly employed by them and who are newly released from prison and about to wreak vengeance on the town of Lago.

The inhabitants of Lago, however, will pay dearly for the privilege of the stranger’s protection.

Fairly familiar western fodder for Eastwood fans you might think, but anyone expecting the usual heroics of an Eastwood spaghetti western is in for a rude shock, for this is an Eastwood-directed spaghetti-style western of considerable depth.

When the stranger arrives in town he is mocked and threatened by three gunmen, but proves he is more than capable of looking after himself by coldly shooting them dead within seconds of a fight erupting. He leaves the scene and is almost immediately accosted by an attractive young lady whose sole aim in bumping into the stranger (as he is quick to point out to her) is to become better acquainted with him. Faced with and offended by this truth, she insults the stranger who promptly drags her off into a nearby barn and teaches her a somewhat harsh lesson in manners by raping her (an experience, it should be pointed out, she does not find altogether unpleasant).

Rough justice indeed, but then justice is what this film is largely about. In the opening sequence the stranger is subjected to the gunmen’s own brand of morality and justice. We (the audience) see very little of them, but we see enough to be able to form our own opinion of their bullying and threatening ways, and are sympathetic towards the stranger. So, when he shoots them we accept that he has simply turned their own standard of morality on them, carrying it to its logical conclusion. Nevertheless, we are somewhat shocked at how easily and coldly he resorts to his extreme retaliation.

In the same way, when he is accosted by the girl and he treats her so savagely, we are stunned by his extreme form of retaliation.

Having just witnessed two crimes committed by this stranger with whom we at first sympathised, we are no longer sure of just where our sympathy should lie. To add to our confusion, or perhaps to resolve it, we next witness, in the course of a dream, the brutal whipping to death of a young Marshal in the streets of Lago while the townspeople look on and do nothing to help. The Marshal bears a remarkable resemblance to the stranger, a fact that leads us to treat with suspicion the motives and actions of both the stranger and the people of Lago.

Eastwood the director has cleverly woven a tale of morality, or rather amorality and justice, and asks the audience to act as the jury. The film is constructed in much the way that a jury might hear arguments in a court case, with one party appearing guilty at first but gradually, as more facts emerge, we come to understand and even endorse the actions of the defendant.

We discover that the girl the stranger raped is in the habit of sleeping with whoever will help her achieve her immediate aims. The gunmen he shot were hired to kill anyone who posed a threat to the Lago mining company, and everyone in Lago played a part (albeit indirectly) in the death of Marshal Duncan.

Marshal Duncan represented an "outside" force of law, an independent, disinterested party interested only in equality and justice. The town of Lago, however, took upon itself the mantle of justice and rejected the independent authority of law. The people did not wish to share their wealth from the mines with the government, and they went to extreme lengths to protect it and themselves, including the murder of Marshal Duncan. Thus, they established their own "amoral" form of justice where their own continued wellbeing and wealth are taken as the only valid criteria of "justice". This goes a long way to explaining the weakness of the citizens of Lago in the face of the ruthless stranger. His strength stems from his total faith in his judgement and conduct, while their weakness stems from their amorality or lack of principles – except one, that of self-interest. To stand up to the stranger or the gunfighters would pose a threat to their own wellbeing.

As the stranger, Duncan represents no particular moral viewpoint, but instead reacts to the conduct and morality of others, taking their sense of morality as his own. He is a sort of "moral mirror" where people are judged by their own standards.

In order to protect themselves, the townspeople hire a small group of gunfighters to perform their "immoral" acts. The problems arise when the people decide to rid themselves of the by now arrogant and bullying gunmen by, naturally enough, amoral means. They are framed for theft and are sent to prison, but are due to be released and avenge themselves on Lago.

With their "new" gunfighters gone, the people ask the stranger to help them. He reluctantly agrees, but only in return for a free rein.

At this, the stranger proceeds to make everyone pay for their protection – everyone must pay something for their freedom and the stranger makes them pay in kind, through loss of public office, esteem or wealth. In short, they must pay with that which they gained through the death of Marshal Duncan.

The stranger humiliates the inhabitants of Lago and makes them suffer – all in the name of protection, protection he would have provided, at a much lower cost, as Marshal Duncan. However, because they abandoned principle and chose instead the path of amorality where worth and value are measured solely in financial terms, the people of Lago must now face the practical consequences of their amorality.

The stranger does very little to help them, except show them how to defend themselves, and with great irony rides off at the last moment to let them face their gunmen alone. He never actually agreed to any "deal", and besides, any such deal would require a sense of morality to be valid, morality the people of Lago have long since rejected.

He only returns to Lago once much harm and suffering have been done – to avenge himself on those who killed him.

Eastwood here plays one of his most interesting roles, the spirit of justice. Each member of the community is made to face himself, and is faced with the kind of treatment he has meted out to others in the past. The stranger provides them with a practical lesson in morality, turning their own amorality on them so they will FEEL the reasons for respecting the principles of justice.

The film is extremely well directed, combining the gritty action we have come to expect from Eastwood, and a content of considerable depth. By swinging our sympathies from one side to the other, Eastwood makes us doubt everything and causes us to suspend our judgement until the final thought-provoking scene when we are in possession of all the facts and evidence.

Altogether it is a stimulating film well worth watching and represents one of the artistic peaks in Eastwood’s career.

Thank you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

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Sunday, 23 November 2025

Brief reflections on “Nuremberg” (2025) and lessons that may be learned from it.

 

Brief reflections on “Nuremberg” (2025)

and lessons that may be learned from it.

 

“Nuremberg” recounts its tale through a number of characters who elucidate events, issues, motivations and reactions surrounding the Nuremberg Trials which took place between 1945 and 1949.

Although we are given a broad outline of these events, the film focuses on the relationship between Nazi second-in-command Hermann Gring and Douglas Kelley, the young American psychiatrist assigned to assess and monitor the mental health of the assembled accused. Kelley was also invited to pass on information and insights the prosecutors might find helpful in making their case against Nazi officials. 

There are, of course, moments of high drama, revelations and historical clarification but audience involvement turns on how Kelley rather arrogantly thinks he will be able to manipulate Gring who, instead, subtly and discreetly manipulates Kelley, and it is largely through the development and ultimate disintegration of Kelley’s relationship with Gring that our interest is engaged and maintained. Their association is irrevocably damaged, and the tone of the film is markedly darkened, with the “gloves off” disclosure of the horrific treatment of inmates in the concentration camps after which pleasantries and the veneer of friendship are abandoned, and the pursuit of justice is emphasised.

It seems to me that “Nuremberg” has two purposes – firstly, to elucidate the historic events surrounding the Trials and explore the motivations of and effects on the people involved (this was the first such trial and new processes and procedures had to be created and developed for them), and secondly and perhaps more importantly, to serve as a timely warning of potential consequences for the present-day world as some countries teeter toward authoritarianism or even fascism.

The film invites reflection upon why and how authoritarian leaders may be elected through the democratic process, and the conclusions apply not just to Germany in the period following the First World War and as a result of the Versailles Treaty that was imposed on the nation, but may equally apply to present-day nations undergoing a period of political difficulty.

A sense of pointlessness, disillusion, resentment and even disenfranchisement among sections of the electorate mean that they may turn to charismatic, manipulative or eloquent figures who focus on the apparent failures of their opponents, prey on a lack of a sense of purpose or advancement among the electorate, and national pride. These political figures may not offer viable or considered alternatives but persuade the public of the failure of their political opponents and of the righteousness and value of their cause through rationalisation, single-minded or blinkered insistence on viewpoints and emotional manoeuvring while appealing to patriotism, selective or false newsfeeds and fearmongering.

Such political figures may go on to display a disregard for complex objective and universal laws (which they may blame for any political or social malaise), replacing them with measures that entrench government-backed positions, favour those happy or willing to support their government, and weaken or eradicate any and all bodies ready to challenge or oppose their government policies.

Although the result of the democratic process, this state of affairs can hardly be said to uphold democratic values and this film is a reminder of the essential importance of the principles and values of democracy (which is a far broader concept than fair elections). It may not always be easy to apply the principles of democracy but it is essential that we should try to do so.

The foundation of a fair, free and just society is the establishment and upholding of a system of rules, regulations and laws which aims to objectively protect and defend the rights of all men and women and to pursue all those who seek to abuse or who are willing to attack or otherwise mistreat or disrespect others. Protections afforded by such a system, and pursuit of wrongdoers, should be applicable to all without favour, bias or selectivity of any sort.

Only by insisting on equality and respect for all members of society will laws and their application be seen as fair and acceptable. Deviation due to bias, preference, favour or fraud may lead to disquiet and rejection of societal norms.

It is essential to note that governmental authority in a democracy is accepted and tolerated by common consent and to maintain that state of affairs, citizens must feel respected and that their circumstances and views are considered.

Toward the end of the film, Kelley gives an interview in which he makes points that are relevant not just to today but to any point in the future at which the principles of democracy are being undermined.

He points out that evil or political opportunism allied to personal gain will not declare itself as such and will not necessarily wear a uniform. Hitler and his associates came to be seen as the embodiment of evil (displaying cruel and inhuman indifference to the destinies of millions) only in retrospect. Their policies, actions and motivations were rationalised and appealed to many, at least initially, for the reasons indicated above.

Kelley’s point, and indeed one of the main points of the film, is that this should not be allowed to happen again. Our film is a timely warning of the potential consequences of failing to recognise signs of democratic dismantlement and a failure to appreciate and protect the values, laws and principles of democratic society built up and applied over the centuries. We must be willing to defend the values and institutions we hold dear by applying critical thinking and upholding respect for objective truth, compassion and humanity.

 

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

 

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Friday, 31 October 2025

Reflections on characters and themes in “Prime Cut”

 

Reflections on “Prime Cut”

Directed by Michael Ritchie

Script by Robert Dillon

Starring Lee Marvin, Gene Hackman and Sissy Spacek

Dismissed by many as quirky, violent or outlandish, “Prime Cut” delivers a neo-noir gangster thriller cum fairytale that mixes satire with thrills while playing with conventions, both cinematic and fairytale, and makes points about society which remain remarkably relevant even more than fifty years after its release.

Kansas gangster Mary Ann has borrowed half a million dollars from the Chicago mob and he refuses to repay his debt, resulting in the violent deaths of several envoys dispatched to recover the money and then the hiring of enforcer Nick Devlin by Chicago to recoup their money or inflict punishment on Mary Ann.

It is worth noting that traditional law enforcement plays no part in the proceedings and we are clearly in film noir territory with neither of the rival groups respecting law and order. There are, however, distinct differences between the two camps. The Chicago city “mob” is polite and maintains a veneer of respectability and decorum that distracts from the criminal nature of their activities. They appear to recognise they are dependent on fundamental public freedoms and rights if their hustles and scams are to be effective. They may be a criminal enterprise but they are business-like, organised and focused on financial gain, not exploitation or dominion.

On the other hand, Mary Ann’s rural Kansas crew is narcissistic, unsophisticated, lawless and casually disregards values and humanity as, among many other nefarious activities and actions, they treat young women like cattle to be sold into prostitution or sexual abuse to the highest bidder at auction.

And so we have two levels of corruption and amorality – in the city, the gangsters depend on a prosperous and relatively healthy and happy society to make money, while in the country, the gangsters have lost sight of consideration and respect and are devoted to self-indulgence and profit at the expense of others.

Nick Devlin is no angel. He is a man capable of amoral acts, especially when dealing with amoral people, and he is willing to make those who deserve it, suffer. However, as is so often the case in film noir, an apparently amoral agent can have his conscience or idealistic side awakened and be led to demonstrate compassion and understanding, showing humanity and hope.

Devlin meets Mary Ann and threateningly demands repayment of Chicago’s money but he is touched by the innocence and predicament of Poppy who is to be sold into prostitution or sexual abuse by the heartless Mary Ann and Devlin takes her away with him, “on account”.

Devlin treats Poppy with kindness and respect and this is a key element of the film. He is willing to accept and live by amoral standards and can operate on the same level as his opponents to regulate matters, yet he is willing to help those innocents who are victimised by these amoral standards. He is thus an unexpected and dubious hero as he discovers or reveals his humanity and the limits to his amoral conduct.

Indeed, with regard to the “fairytale” aspect of the film, Devlin may even be viewed as something of a “white knight” as his light grey suits (and white shoes at one point), elevate him above the level of his well-dressed colleagues and contrast with the casual and slovenly appearance of his opponents.  These suits may even suggest armour and relative purity and nobility of purpose as he attacks the lair of the “villain” and saves the innocent maiden. I should point out that many of the original versions of fairytales were far more brutal than the sanitised forms we have come to expect, and included violence, rape and murder, so perhaps the gap between a fairytale and film noir is not so great after all…

Fundamentally, as a neo-noir fairytale, the film needs a heroic aspect because otherwise there would be little interest in simply watching two groups of amoral characters fight it out amid what would be pointless action sequences with continued and unchanged amorality as the end result. This way, in keeping with the age-old conventions of storytelling, we have someone to root for and a principle to believe in as Devlin’s outlook is challenged and his humanity is awakened. Our sullied hero defends principle and he destroys an evil organisation, though this also happens to suit the purposes of his amoral employers…

The depiction of the Chicago gangsters may also be viewed as reflecting aspects of shady modern business dealings in which the veneer of respectability and decorum conceals a grimy, threatening and underhand mentality with businesses and CEOs willing to use others to maximise profit with a minimum of honest effort.

Equally, the depiction of the environment in which the Kansas gangsters and Mary Ann operate may resonate with some present-day audiences as those living in and around Mary Ann’s field of influence seem willing to turn a blind eye to or wilfully misconstrue his misdeeds, manipulation and crass determination to have his own way. Even the apparently outlandish and horrifying auction of young women for immoral purposes has found vague parallels in modern times…

Clearly, the society presented in the film is male-dominated and women are treated largely as objects of pleasure or abuse, but the film does offer a glimmer of hope in that Poppie is liberated and is shown respect, and she and Devlin go on to free the young ladies in the orphanage, ending on a note of optimism and contributing to the modern fairytale quality of the film.

I regard “Prime Cut” as flawed but involving and thoroughly enjoyable. The combination of film noir and fairytale is intriguing but isn’t easy to achieve and it’s probably better not to think too hard about inconsistencies in characterisation, plot and tone. Better to just enjoy the emotional engagement, the playful and daring combination of noir and fairytale, and especially the performances of Lee Marvin, Gene Hackman and Sissy Spacek who carry the film and allow it to transcend what may be viewed as its imperfections.

 

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

 

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Thursday, 16 October 2025

Characters and themes in David Lean’s “Hobson’s Choice”

 

Reflections on “Hobson’s Choice”

Directed by David Lean

Screenplay by David Lean, Norman Spencer and Wynard Browne

Based on the play by Harold Brighouse

Starring Charles Laughton, John Mills and Brenda de Banzie

 


“Hobson’s Choice” is a deceptively simple tale which manages to say a great deal about the historical place of women in society (contrasting with their true value) and the nature of successful relationships in terms of marriage and business. It is a light-hearted drama or affectionate satire which mocks and gently derides the capitalist and patriarchal Victorian society of the late 1800s, or indeed any society in which figures of authority exploit or abuse their staff or families, yet are dependent on their efforts for their own wealth and success.

The main character, bootmaker Henry Hobson, displays a haughty disregard for his employees whose skills and efforts are requisite to and underpin his business, and this attitude extends to the exploitation of his three daughters on whom he depends for the successful running of his commercial interests but whose lives, careers and loves are sacrificed to the maintenance of his own position and comfort. Henry is somewhat selfish and self-indulgent, and refuses to recognise the essential contribution made by oldest daughter Maggie to the success of his business, except in the company of friends to whom he confides that she is too useful to lose.

His two younger daughters are keen to marry and have families of their own, principally to escape the family home, but Maggie, insulted by her father’s dismissal of her marriage prospects at the ripe old age of thirty, is driven not just to choose a partner in life but also to teach her father a lesson in commerce and in parenting.

Apart from presenting a decidedly feminist approach, playwright Brighouse and director Lean also use this tale to explore the dawn of self-respect and self-worth in the working classes whose skilled labour played an essential part in the success of middle-class businesses. Will Mossop, Hobson’s highly talented but taken for granted bootmaker is taught self-esteem, the value of merited respect and eventually love by Maggie who sees his potential as a business and life partner. It appears that marriage may be viewed not just as an idealistic union of love-crossed individuals, but perhaps as a commercial partnership or means of escape from social expectation to build one’s own life. As is so often the case in stories of this nature, Will evolves as a result of Maggie’s tutelage and interest – he requires her steady and intelligent vision to help him fulfil his potential, but the consequences are mutually beneficial and their relationship develops into a true, equal and loving partnership.

Given Henry’s apparent slide into alcoholism and his attitudes, it struck me that he couldn’t have built a successful business with such an outlook, and then I remembered his wife died some years before. Could it be that his wife directed him in the same way that Maggie will guide Will, and after her death Henry became a little lost? His dependence on Maggie may reflect a similar dependence on his wife, though, as with Maggie, he would never have admitted it. That would also explain where Maggie gets her strength and determination from. Of course, the two younger sisters don’t show the same characteristics but maybe that’s because Maggie was older and had more time with her mother.

The film is made very much in the style of gentle British social comedies of the time (the 1950s) and is vaguely reminiscent of the style of Molière, the 17th century French comic playwright who more or less invented comedic drama, specialising in making serious points but using comedy rather than melodrama to make them. Instead of inviting anger and indignation at the situations of the “victims”, Brighouse and Lean make the antagonist the butt of humour and mockery while also gently pointing out Will’s foibles, evolution and fulfilment in the hands of the feminist and intelligent Maggie.

Presenting the drama in this way has the effect of “battling from within” as the audience is invited to recognise character strengths and weaknesses in a familiar and engaging way rather than through dramatic extremes of unfamiliar and exaggerated conflict and are therefore more likely to find it persuasive and appealing. Essentially, comedy undermines while drama attacks.

The comic tone of the piece is set from the very start with Malcolm Arnold’s oh-so-catchy and comical theme tune – the audience knows instantly what tone to expect and this is confirmed by Laughton’s playing for laughs. We are being invited to relax and enjoy Brighouse and Lean’s pertinent observations on society without tension, anxiety or melodrama.

That said, the film makes serious points about the role of women in the structure of society and in inspiring people (usually men) to achieve their potential. Maggie is the backbone of her father’s business but, in keeping with the position of women in society at that time, she received little or no recognition for it. Her strength, determination and love inspire Will to achieve far more than he would ever have done without her influence, yet she would never have done so well without Will, either. She is the spirit while he is the practical, and together they make a whole, yet her attitude seems to soften as Will becomes more assertive and independent. Perhaps respect and affection are augmented by pride as she sees the results of her labours.

As a result of Maggie’s cunning intervention, Henry is left with no real choice and is forced to provide financial settlements for his younger daughters’ marriages, and to recognise the value of Will’s contribution to his business. With Will, he forms what amounts to a commercial union between capitalist management and skilled workforce, with each element receiving recognition for the value of their input. Perhaps Brighouse saw this formula as something business ventures across the country could aspire to…

Sharply and knowingly directed by David Lean, “Hobson’s Choice” is beautifully acted by all involved but particular credit must go to Charles Laughton who manages to maintain audience sympathy for the very character who is also the target of derision, and John Mills who conveys innocence, vulnerability and nascent self-respect with consummate ease and charm.

 

My thanks for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some value.

Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

 

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