Red River
Howard Hawks classic Red River is my favorite Western/John Wayne movie and a top ten of my best films. It is not in the league of John Ford's masterpiece The Searchers but it is so powerful because the dramatic core is the "Agon," the conflict or struggle, between son and father.
Wayne's Tom Dunston, a tough Texas cattleman, leads a dangerous, high-risk cattle drive, just after the Civil War, across the Chisom Trail. At the start of the drive, Dunston sternly cautions his men: "You don't have to come; you may stay here; no problem; there are great dangers and there will be rewards. But...(grave, momentous pause)...once you start, there is no turning back." THERE IS NO TURNING BACK! Frequently I have recalled that phrase! It's vow-like quality: that is the nature of life...there is no turning back. That is the nature of vocation, of mission, of marriage and family, of any substantial friendship or task. You have set out...and there is no turning back. And so they set out and face Indians, stampedes, marauding thieves, confusion and conflict. Meanwhile the dark side of Dunston emerges: he is in pain, is drinking heavy, becomes tyrannical and paranoid. His adopted son, protege and lieutenant, Montgomery Cliff's Matt Garth, remains unfailingly loyal to him. Until....Three men desert. They are tracked down. Knowing his mind, they tell Dunston: "Okay. Go ahead and shoot us." He responds: "I'm not going to shoot you. I'm going to hang you." Everyone is silent, dumbstruck. But the voice of Matt, calm and clear: "No you're not." Dunston responds with Waynesque macho arrogance: "Who is going to stop me?" The response from Matt, again calm and clear and firm: "I am." It is a cowboy Caine Mutiny. The loyal subordinate is forced to dethrone the Captain. Matt tells Tom: "I will get your cattle to Abilene." Wayne, now wounded replies: "I will follow you. I'm going to kill you." He means it!
That short interchange is the dramatic core of the story: "Who is going to stop me?" "I am." The son, in loyalty to his own identity, destiny, integrity and mission, and to that of his now-deranged father, is forced to engage him in combat. They have no choice but to fight, wound and maybe kill each other.
The Son Father Agon
From the Greek, "agon" means competition, as in athletics, or conflict between characters in a dramatic plot. So the Son-Father agon is primal and powerful because it defines the masculine identity. I suspect women are constitutionally incapable of understanding this dynamic. The feminine psyche flows seamlessly in a continuity of relationship, primarily with the mother in a bond is never (normatively) fractured. Ideally, a distinct but similarly continuous and fluid bond abides between daughter and father.
Not so for the male. From birth, he is recognized by his mother as different, as male to her female, so already the helpless newborn is defined as separate, as different, as eventually and implicitly distant and alone. As he develops, hormonally-neurologically-emotionally-socially-spiritually, his inner form or soul drives him to distinguish himself as separate, from Mom and Dad and his peer competitors. The masculine recipe for relationship contrasts sharply from the feminine: boundaries are sharp and defined, the ego is fragile and aggressive-defensive, the isolation is pronounced, the relational distance is definitive.
And so, inevitably, the son must wrestle with his father. Even where there remains deep and mutual affection, reverence, loyalty and delight, there is required a contest of psyches. This for many reasons.
First, every human father is fundamentally flawed and the son must engage with that weakness. This is the theme so masterfully presented in Red River. I cannot quite imagine how this played out between Jesus and Joseph, but we do have the firm correction from Jesus when Mary speaks for Joseph as well as herself "Your father and I have been looking for you." With Jesus' response of a few words he definitively distanced himself from mother and father on behalf of his masculine-yet-Godly destiny.
Secondly, even in a basically perfect relationship in which the son continues the father's faith, mission and purposes, the son must distinguish and individuate himself. He cannot be a carbon copy, a mimic of his father. To faithfully, fruitfully, creatively "echo" the deepest values received he must re-present them in his own unique person and circumstances. And so, there is the inevitable tension, conflict, distance and differentiation.
Thirdly, as noted the masculine psyche is inherently competitive, adversarial, and aggressive. For example, how do adolescent males establish and maintain intimacy (the little bit for which they are capable!)? By competing. In sports. In fist fights. In arguments. This is how men relate. Women simply cannot understand this, especially mothers, but also sisters and girl friends and wives. (Sidebar: why is it that the few who regularly read this Fleckinstein blog are all men? Possibly because it is largely an argumentative, agonistic and basically masculine endeavor.)
Consider that Jesus' engagement with us and with his Father took the form of agony. We tend to understand this term as passivity and victimhood in suffering. But this cannot be right. He was NOT a passive victim. He was engaged in a fight to the death! He aggressively attacked all the powers of evil, of death, of guilt, of sin, of the world, and of the Evil One. He triumphed, at the end. He promised that the gates of hell would not prevail and he demonstrated that his Love conquered that dark empire. In some mysterious way, he engaged agonistically even his Father whose will was that he suffer and die.
Our Pope Francis Dilemma
In our Catholic Church today, we have our own Tom Dunston, our own Commander Queeg (Humphrey Bogart in The Caine Mutiny). However unintentionally, in his confusion of thought, our Holy Father has led us to the brink of schism as the Flemish and German bishops openly defy him and contradict our traditions. The "synodal" process is a perfect recipe for intensified confusion, conflict and chaos.
The word "dilemma" indicates a choice between alternatives that are each unacceptable. So our pontiff presents a true dilemma: Do we defy him in disobedience? Or do we obey like loyal sheep as he leads us off the cliff of contradictions and confusions?
Red River, including its ending, may offer some help.
Red River's Corny Gender-Comedic Conclusion
Hawks himself admitted that his conclusion was corny. It is a drastic shift in tone, entirely" deus-ex-machina," feel-good to the point of silly, a sudden and unexpected shift from the tragic to the comedic, entirely dissonant with the drama's mood and logic. It is the film's defining weakness. Yet it seems Hawks did this deliberately, with a wink, ironically, laughing at the end with shameless, uninhibited inconsistency.
Let's contrast this with Ford-Wayne's masterpiece The Searchers. These two films (both set in post-Civil War Texas) are surely Wayne's greatest performances. The characters are similar: both have deep, dark, mysterious sides to them which threaten tragedy. The one will kill his (adopted) son, the other his niece. A deep dread and tension pervades both films. Both present a dilemma: logically the ending must be tragic, but there is some vague hope for salvation.
The Ford ending is superior. It entails a sudden, illogical "deus-ex-machina" change of heart by the dark protagonist. But after that "happy ending," we see the lonely, tragic Ethan, inarticulately carrying a profound wound of loneliness, walk into the desolate West, away from his family and civilization, into an indescribable masculine solitude. Brilliantly, a happy ending prevails (with some lapse of dramatic logic) but the tragic mood of the protagonist that controlled the drama remains.
The Hawks' ending is entirely different. Dunston, enflamed with an infernal rage, finds his son and demands a fight. He fires his gun around the younger man who serenely refuses to pull his gun on his father. The older man repeatedly punches his son. Finally, the younger man's anger is aroused and a full scale fist fight erupts. The much larger Wayne character is wounded by a gun wound so it is an even fight and they pummel each other.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the sweet, pretty romantic interest of Matt jumps in, firing a gun, and screaming her fury and incomprehension of why these two men would want to kill each other. The men, and the onlookers, are stunned and frozen by the eruption of feminine fury. Dunston, miraculously freed from his rage and paranoia, is like a man just released from a spell. He says "Son, you must marry that woman." and they reconcile happily.
So corny! So dramatically illogical!
It is gender comedy. The vicious, toxic masculinity of the raging Dunston is miraculously dismissed by the eruption of empathetic, kind femininity. So stereotypical! So 1950s! We imagine Hawks laughing: we men like to fight and argue, but at the end of the day things will be okay because the feminine influence will prevail.
Conclusion
How does this movie ending help us with our papal dilemma? I am going to be as feel-good and corny as Howard Hawks. We men have to take on our leader in his disorders. We have to engage him: argue, fight, resist him. We have no choice. Our identity and integrity require this. But in the back of our mind, we want to remember that these fights are not the final word. We have in our Church a distinct, more powerful influence. Our mother Mary. She is our Queen. She is the one who stamped the head of the serpent. She is our hope and joy!
No comments:
Post a Comment