Hollywood in the '50s was a much different place than it is today. Oh sure, you had all of the fashion, gossip, intrigue, and excitement, but beneath that sheen of glamour lay one of the most right wing agendas ever. Much of this had to do with the continued persecution of the Jewish people and the desire from Hollywood execs to keep this persecution out of Hollywood. After all, without the efforts of such pioneers as Louis B. Mayer, David Selznick, Irving Thalberg, Carl Laemmle, Darryl Zanuck, Harry Cohn, and Jack Warner, we might not even have the Hollywood that we have today. Still, the common threat that all of these great men faced was the fear of persecution because of their religious or social beliefs. In trying to stem anti-Semitism, these leaders of Hollywood took the route of being the MOST American they could be. For a time, this worked. After all, the rise of Hollywood thanks to the great studio systems of the 20s-40s is the stuff of legends. The 1950s, however, would be a different story.
In 1947, the House Un-American Activities Committee (yes, there was actually something called this) launched an investigation into the "infiltration of Communists in Hollywood." Part of this investigation consisted of 9 days of hearings whereby various Hollywood craftsmen (actors, directors, writers) were called before Congress to testify as to the infiltration of Communist propaganda in Hollywood and to"name names" of Communist sympathizers. This was a classic case of guilt by suspicion. Where the craftsmen named no names or refused to answer questions, they were immediately considered guilty. The Hollywood 10, 10 individuals who refused to kowtow to this most UNAMERICAN of committees, were instantly blacklisted by all of Hollywood. Think of it: these individuals were denied the opportunity to practice their craft for most of the rest of their lives because they EXERCISED THEIR RIGHTS. Furthermore, they refused to name names. Even while "upstanding Americans" like John Wayne, Elia Kazan, and Ronald Reagan were damning their fellow workers to suspicion (grounded or not) by naming names, these 10 stood their ground-and were left alone on an island, isolated for doing what was right.
One of these individuals was a screenwriter named Carl Forman. Forman could not get hired in Hollywood after this, and he tried to write and submit screenplays under pseudonyms. One of his screenplays told the story of a small town sheriff who, years earlier with the help of the townspeople, had cleared out the most evil of evil men, Frank Miller. In his story, Miller's sentence was commuted, and the sheriff tries to round up a posse from among the town men, only to be rebuffed and standing alone against the coming storm. It was the perfect allegory to the era of blacklisting and the story of the Hollywood Ten, dressed up in that most innocuous of genres-the Western. Of course, since Foreman could not submit the story, now fleshed out with details from a short story called "the Tin Star", by John Cunningham, needed his production partner, Stanley Kramer, to have the production see the light of day. The name of the film was "High Noon".
At first glance, "High Noon" seems to be a most conventional Western. The title itself conjures up images of a "showdown at high noon between the noble sheriff and the desperadoes", but the actual story is much deeper than that. This film could be considered the first existential Western, the forerunner to such films as Clint Eastwood's "Unforgiven" and Kevin Reynold's "Open Range." The film's opening sequence is filled with iconic imagery and sound. With the opening notes of "Do Not Forsake Me" (with a rhythm track evoking the sound of a slow trotting horse), we see a lone cowboy resting under a tree, smoking a cigarette. Tex Ritter's song then begins in earnest, and it tells the story through the rest of the opening credits, a forlorn ballad of loneliness in the face of pending danger. The one cowboy gets on his horse and rides to meet a second, and the two together ride to meet a third. They all ride, three abreast as the song ends, to reach the train depot of the town of Hadleyville. The depot manager recognizes all three and is frightened, but he becomes more frightened when he receives a telegram. He sneaks out and races to the Marshal's office, where the marriage of Sheriff Will Kane (Gary Cooper) and his Quaker wife Amy (Grace Kelly) has just taken place. Amy is happy that Will is leaving the violent life of a sheriff, for Quakers do not condone violence of any type. Their happiness is short lived however, as the depot manager brings the shocking news that Frank Miller, a ruthless killer who Kane arrested years ago, was released from jail and is on his way back on the noon train, most likely to get his revenge. Kane looks at the clock, and from this point on, the clock becomes a main character in the film. The story is told in real time, meaning one minute of screen time passes for each minute of real time.
Kane figures it will be easy-after all the townspeople helped him last time, and they reaped the benefits of his efforts. Surely they would help him in his time of need. What happens next, in the real time of the film, is the slow rejection of Kane by all of the people that he met. All of them, save for his wife (who also rejects him because of his intent to follow through on a violent course of action) have their own motives, none of which are the same. But we are left with an interesting morality tale, the lone person who wants to do what is right but has his faith in the people he is trying to help shaken beyond redemption. Even as the townspeople are urging him to leave town, he refuses to back down for the sake of the town itself. His reward? Being left to face certain death at the hands of 4 killers.
The film is one of my favorites for so many reasons. The iconic imagery, the setting, the excellent acting, the characters. I will give you a run down:
1) Gary Cooper: he deservedly won an Academy Award for his nuanced portrayal of Will Kane. In a time of Hollywood he-man, Cooper brought a realistic vulnerability to the square jawed nature of Will Kane. As the film progresses, we see close-ups of Cooper's features and the fear that is building inside him as he realizes that he will likely have to stand alone. A masterful performance.
2) The camera work is astounding. In watching the film, one feels enveloped by the story and invested in its outcome. Fred Zinneman did a wonderful job using certain camera setups to evoke emotions from his audience. I never cease to be amazed by one famous camera shot...just before high noon itself, where the camera, on a crane, focuses first on Kane and then gradually pulls back. Cooper's body language nicely captures the fear and isolation that the character should be feeling at that point, and the crane shot is one long withdrawal until Cooper, a tall guy, looks tiny and insignificant against the backdrop of the deserted town streets.
3) The music. Tex Ritter (John Ritter's dad) was a famous country western cowboy singer of the era. The ballad that begins the film picks up during the film itself, with several musical cues, complete with lyrics, evoking the inner workings of Kane's mind without having to resort to any sort of voice over. For me, it is one of the best film scores ever because the music is SO intertwined with the success of the film.
4) The final shot of the film. For those of you who have never watched the film, I will not spoil it. However, I will tell you that this is #1 on my list of favorite last shots EVER. When you see it, you will understand.
"High Noon" works on many levels. It works as an excellent non-conventional Western with an engaging story, top notch production values, and excellent performances. It also works as a wonderful allegory for the story of the Hollywood 10, albeit with a much happier ending. For these reasons and more, "High Noon" is on my short list of favorite films.
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