by Anubhav Bist
The little moments.
If you were to ask me what makes Howard Hawk’s 1959 western so special, thats what I would say. The little moments. For me, this could be something as quick as James T. Chance’s quirky reaction after Feathers says, “You forgot your pants,” (how he actual stops and thinks about it before realizing the joke); or the way Chance hands Dude his rolled up cigarette after Dude screw ups trying to roll his own, all while they talk about that fact that Feathers didn’t get on the stagecoach (a poignant gesture that’s subtle enough to just exist in that moment, without ever breaking the flow of their conversation). It seems so simple, until you realize that it’s anything but. In a way, that sums up Rio Bravo pretty well. A profound cinematic experience that masquerades as simple Hollywood entertainment.
Sheriff James T. Chance (John Wayne giving easily his greatest “John Wayne” performance) must find a way to keep a murder, who also happens to be the brother of a wealthy rancher with criminal connections, imprisoned until the US Marshal arrives. His only allies: his drunk partner Dude (Dean Martin giving arguably the film’s most memorable performance), his elderly cripple deputy Stumpy (Hawks regular and Western veteran Walter Brennan), a young hotshot gunslinger Colorado (pop star Ricky Nelson) and the mysterious female gambler Feathers (Angie Dickinson in one of her first big roles).
On the surface, theres nothing necessarily groundbreaking about Rio Bravo. The story is purposely reminiscent to High Noon (a film both Hawks and Wayne loathed and which Rio Bravo served, in a way, as a counter argument to), while Hawks recycled multiple plot elements from his own 1944 masterpiece, To Have or Have Not. Yet the enjoyment one gets from a Howard Hawks picture rarely comes from it’s film plot; it’s all about the characters and their relations to one another.
Rio Bravo is no different. While the film may contain some of the Hawks greatest action set pieces, the silent opening and Dude’s search through the saloon speak for themselves, the violence was often over in a matter of seconds. (For Hawks, filming violence was “getting it over so fast, you didn’t hardly know what happened”). Instead, the majority of Rio Bravo’s 144 minutes runtime is dedicated to Chance, Dude, Feathers, Colorado, and Stumpy. By doing this, we take a moment to watch each character grow, and witness the impact of each relationship. While most films would save their payoff for the inevitable stand off at the end, Hawks decides to let us instead enjoy the build up. And, of course, the little moments that come along with it.
