赤胆屠龙

Allegedly, Howard Hawks’ jaunty response to the daunting self-centeredness and pessimism permeated in Fred Zinnemann’s revisionist Western classic HIGH NOON (1952), RIO BRAVO reunites Hawks with marquee star John Wayne, over a decade after their last enterprise RED RIVER (1948), the whole enchilada entirely takes place in the titular Texan town and Wayne plays sheriff John T. Chance, who gallantly takes a local murderer Joe Burdette (Akins) into custody, then stoutheartedly awaits the ominously forthcoming jailbreaking attempt from the gangs of the latter’s bigwig rancher brother Nathan (Russell), a situation not dissimilar from the nettle Gary Cooper’s small-town marshal Will Kane has to grasp in HIGH NOON. However, even John T. has only an alcoholic deputy Dude (Martin) and a gammy jailer named Stumpy (Brennan) on his side, he doesn’t care about soliciting extraneous aid which Kane arduously seeks out, on the contrary, he doesn’t want to involve any other innocent people in this bloodshed business, one might be lead to believe that he has an ace up his sleeve, if either sheer potluck (a wagon of dynamite nearby) or the ineptitude of their enemies (who have the wiles and cruelty to pick off a loudmouth to set an example, Western veteran Ward Bond is his final screen role, but awfully reverent towards the men with a badge) counts for one. Dovetailing the story into a facile David and Goliath story, RIO BRAVO perversely doesn’t comply to the genre’s modus operandi such as the dreadful tension building or gunslingers’ trigger-happy swagger, instead it sinks its teeth into substantially individuating its dramatis personae - Dean Martin amazingly retains a natural semblance of a soak’s delirium tremens with astounding diligence, and Walter Brennan’s garrulous duffer is the top-line comic relief who also high-spiritedly defies ableism - as well as confecting a delectable cradle-snatching romance (reeking of conservative gender politics notwithstanding) in pairing Wayne with Angie Dickinson’s feather-headed minx Feathers, a bunco artist with an unspecified past. Wayne, self-conscious of their yawning, quarter-of-a-century age difference, philosophically relinquishes his trademark macho bravado and inhabits a more personable persona (the reluctant sheriff wooed by a luscious woman who wants to be tamed) that may earn him new admirers from a different block, and leaves a hot and bothered Dickinson to do the heavy lifting of lacing their current plight with rumbling mischief and levity. Introducing the 18-year-old heartthrob and Elvis Presley-rivaling Ricky Nelson as a quick-on-the-draw sapling named Colorado, and allotting decent screen-time for him and Martin to bathe audience with dulcet balm, RIO BRAVO proves itself to be a fiendishly smart crowd-pleaser, a Technicolored oater of gratifying alacrity and amusementfrom Hawks, the genre-hopping Hollywood maven sprightly riding on one of his better days. referential entries: Hawks’ RED RIVER (1948, 7.4/10); Fred Zinnemann’s HIGH NOON (1952, 8.0/10); John Ford’s THE SEARCHERS (1956, 8.1/10).