Mindy Nelsen

TMA 689

Online Response #2

The Great Train Robbery and The Searchers

Unsettled and perplexed.  That is the sentiment that has been wafting in and out of me this week as I try to figure out why this week’s films and the western genre have affected me so.  Westerns allow exploration of contemporary issues in America in the midst of a classical view.  The first narrative film ever made, The Great Train Robbery, is one I have previously encountered.  Plato was concerned with nature of being; the nature of justice, truth, good, love, beauty, so too is the western genre.  The Great Train Robbery is filled with examples of good and beauty in the lively dancing scene as well as the little girl that comes to free the tied up rail road worker.  The nature of being and that of justice are clearly explicit in the fight to the death (with horses caught in the crossfire) of the lawmen vs. the bandits.  There is a necessary use of violence on both parts – that of the robbers to get the loot they were so preoccupied with (even to the point of getting distracted and caught!) and also of the lawmen in their unrelenting pursuit of the criminals.  The plot was clear and concise, leaving the characters very committed to their true versions of self and cause, something that would surely please Aristotle. 

Likewise, in discovering and critiquing a film such as this, it is important to notice the detail beyond the plot.  Aristotle’s quest was to analyze everything, including literature (and in this case a film text).  He has an almost scientific way of scrutinizing it, breaking it apart, piece by piece.  Similarly, we must do the same in terms of plot, character, spectacle and even the technology used.  Critics and film historians alike have surmised that “the film used several innovative film techniques of the time including parallel editing, camera movement, location shooting, jump cuts and pan shots. It is also the originator of the ‘shooting at someone’s feet to get them to dance’ scene that has become cliché in westerns.”[1]  While the film certainly exhibits the tenants of narrative structure, it still doesn’t fully embrace the classics view of tying everything all up.  The final shot is of the leader of the bandits as he turns a gun on the audience and proceeds to shoot us.  Something I’m sure was quite shocking at the time, it still leaves the audience with just enough questioning to be unsettled at the end of the short piece. 

A classical lens can also be helpful in discerning the perplexity that is The Searchers.  Even by Aristotle’s definition and tenants of criticism, this piece has stood the test of time.  Classical theory deduces that all art is imitative, mere representations of something else that exists or has existed.  But these representations must be of action.  As people, we are imitative creatures who learn by imitation others.  So poets, authors, philosophers, and creators of a variety of texts are preoccupied with the aspects of story; especially that of tragedy.  Aristotle states that tragedy needs to be performed rather than narrated.  It becomes, therefore, the duty of the poet/text creator to represent either things as they are or were, things as people say and think they are or were, or things as they should be.  It equally becomes the duty of the theory practitioner to examine the individual tenants of the film through the lens of the chosen theory. 

Classical Theory values emphasize reason.  In it, accounts are written down and then changed through re-tellings. But there is always a separation between the reality vs. the artifact.  In the realms of classical theory, all art is constructed, and in film, all supposed life is constructed.  A mimesis (a representation or imitation) often takes the place of the original in the audience’s eyes.  This leads to a problem in accurate portrayal of things and representation of their point of view.  For example, in The Searchers, the Comanche are actually all played by Navajos, with the exception of Scar, who was played by a German.  How then, can art be believed?  How also, can the character or their choices be trusted?  Plato states that, “Eyes can become confused in two different ways, as a result of two different sets of circumstances.” (p. 63)  Though he is speaking of the audience view, the same can be applied to the characters distorted view based on their constructed circumstances.  Perhaps this theory can be used to examine the very different points of view of Ethan and Aaron in relation to Debbie after they have found her.  Aaron will risk his life and future happiness to save her, whereas Ethan’s unchanging sense of right and wrong prompt him to nearly kill her and say: ““living with the Comanche’s ain’t being alive.”  In the basic conventions of a western, the spectacle and the plot focus on America’s identity and the tragic nature of the hero trying to find their path.  This too is a representation.  In many ways it allows for the justified use of violence in pursuit of the American’s goal or supposed path.

Perhaps John Ford could be using the same technique as Plato used with his character of Socrates, making the characters his mouthpiece to comment on – even in a subtle way – the treatment of racism and justification of choices in an uncertain time.  There certainly was plenty evidence of unease and distrust of the other.  Rhetoric, the Greek style of persuasion, moves the audience to understand how the creator sees a situation.  This film had a prevailing attitude of racism even by our protagonist and the supposed gentler characters tend to promote violence.  Moments that resonated this response occurred throughout the piece.  Prayers were focused around killing Indians.  After one character states that it’s “hard to believe they’re white” in regards to the rescued women, Ethan’s character quips that “They ain’t white no more.”  Frank’s father furthers the justified use of violence and disenfranchisement about what America really is in his statement that “It’s this country that killed my boy.”

Additionally, there was a clear and blatant use of excessive violence in the form of shooting, throwing a giant rock at dead native, scalping on both sides, violence against animals, even the antagonists killing raids seemed to be justified.  The whole thing could be said to have left the audience with a feeling of antipathy, the notion that they get what they deserve.  Aristotle infers that art must have an emotional affect on the audience; a catharsis. Tragedy serves to arouse this in the audience.  In a tragedy, the characters are better than us.  This is certainly the case with Aaron.  His sacrifices alone are something to aspire to.  His love of a family that is not his by blood and determination to finish the task he started, no matter the obstacles makes for quite the hero. 

But not all of the characters are people we would aim to be.  At least I hope not.  The tragic hero, hereafter referred to as the antihero or just plain Ethan, must have his disastrous fall and meet his unalterable fate.  Aristotle necessitates that the best plots have a character’s recognition of their own fate, or anagnorisis, as well as reversal of the position of the main character, or peripeteia.  And that the hero must remain true to his character, going from happiness to misery.  They must have goodness, but must also stay appropriate, life-like and consistent.  Ethan is the epitome of consistency as exhibited in one of his earliest lines: “A man’s only good for one oath at a time, and I already made mine to the Confederate States of America.”  This mindset rarely changes. 

But there is not much for the audience to like in Ethan.  If classical theory highlights the need for the hero to have a tragic flaw and the character relationships to be clear, and close, then Wayne and Ford certainly followed with that particular construct.  Some of the early shots in the film seem to suggest that Ethan had an affair with his brother’s wife and that perhaps Debbie might actually be his child.  While there is no dialogue to substantiate that claim, there is a certain motivation behind what Ethan’s character does.  A man driven by revenge, his mother was also killed by Comanches, the death of his brother’s family – which might be his own in a number of ways, drives him to be the lone wolf, a personal loss so tragic he can’t bear to share it with others.  Even the antagonist is driven by rage for revenge.  Scar’s children were killed by white men.  All of the interpersonal relationships within the film have a great power to accomplish Aristotle’s task of drawing up dread or compassion within us.  By the end of the piece, Ethan’s course has taken him to the point of near madness and loss of reason – something Plato would certainly huff over, so in order to restore and maintain order, he must leave his family.  The closing shot is of this antihero turning around and waking away from the house, away from the camera, and leaving this life.  His commitment to justice wore him to the core and he had nothing left.

I could go on and mention the technical aspects of the film.  How the plot, (complete verisimilitude), character (clear and precise and unchanging), thought, diction, song (consider the anthems of the confederacy strewn throughout) and spectacle (think about the sweeping shoots of the prairie or the chase down the hill) all work together to make this masterpiece.  Or I could simply end with the notion that if the goal of a great story is to produce catharsis, I think this film really purged me.  It has stayed on my mind and made me question and feel things I wasn’t planning on focusing on.  Perhaps the best thing to do would be to turn and walk away too.

---

[1] http://filmmakeriq.com/lessons/film-screening-the-great-train-robbery