AWA: Academic Writing at Auckland

My Darling Clementine is a film made in the shadow of World War II, released only one year after the war's end. It was the first post-war film made by the two lead actors Henry Fonda and Victor Mature, and for director John Ford himself, all who served in an enlisted capacity during that turbulent period. It is perhaps not surprising, then, that Clementine can be read as a cinematic plea for civilisation, and the order that it brings, to win out over unchecked moral anarchy. The taming of the 'wild' west has been a recurrent theme in the Western genre, but here the analogy to the world outside of the screen is arguably much stronger.

So how does Studlar and Bursteinn's faintly pejorative assessment of Ford's directorial "penchant for sentimental humanism" fit with the individual effort of Clementine? Further, does the film line up with their more positive comment, that "Ford balanced epic themes and intimate dramas in a personalization of the past"? I will argue that Clementine shows Ford handling this balancing act most adeptly, putting his recent dramatic personal experiences on-screen, and that his sentimental leanings feel entirely appropriate for his post-war return. The first scene I have chosen to examine is very simple in its scope, and the second is more complex and thematically far reaching.

After putting family at the forefront of Clementine's opening scene, Ford devastates the Earp brothers’ dynamic after the youngest of the four, James, is murdered. Wyatt, clearly the decision-maker of the family, sets in place a plan to bring those he strongly suspects are responsible to justice. He later returns to his young brother's makeshift grave site to set a simple wooden marker inscribed only with James’ name, year of birth, and that of his death. When we first met the brothers, James was shown to be someone with a future. He is "gonna be as good a cook as Ma!", and he has a fiancé, Corey Sue, who waits for him at home. Now, he is a casualty of the west, buried beneath a collection of rocks.     

In a long-shot that helps to establish the remoteness of the region, we see only Wyatt, his horse, the grave, and the vast, sparse landscape. Wyatt ensures the humble wooden marker is firmly fixed, and takes a seat on the tomb. He addresses the board as if it was his living brother, and Ford emphasises this conversational aspect by filming the scene as a conventional over shoulder-shot. "1864, 1882. Eighteen years. Didn't get much of a chance, did you, James?" Wyatt shifts some more rocks around in an attempt to distract himself from the pain of the situation. He continues to talk to James, or perhaps more accurately, talks himself through the tragic aftermath. "I wrote to Pa and Corey Sue. They're gonna be all busted up over it." Wyatt then promises that he and the other brothers will come out to see him regularly. He makes an oblique statement regarding their business in Tombstone; "We're gonna be around here for a while." Even with James' body below him, Wyatt makes no mention of vengeance, or even justice, as if such talk would upset his innocent kid brother. Before leaving James' side, Wyatt makes a hopeful yet deeply ironic declaration in the film's most direct reference yet to the still-recent war: "Can't tell. Maybe when we leave this country, young kids like you will be able to grow up and live safe."

It is notable that Ford allows Fonda to speak this line in such a despondent tone, devoid of anger. In his capacity serving for the United States during World War II, Ford was tasked with leading a team of US Coast Guard cameramen in recording the allied invasion on Omaha beach on D-day, June 6th 1944.[1] He and the men he commanded landed on the beach, and were exposed to much of the same dangers as the invading infantry. His job was to be witness to and record what would become a brutal battle, and some of his camera crew were killed.[2] Just two years after this extreme experience, Ford was shooting Clementine in the safety of the United States. Of course, it is not possible to know just how Ford was affected by these events, but Clementine suggests he was resolute yet dismayed in his personal beliefs.  His "sentimental humanism" was surely a strength; a firm ideology that runs counter to the evidence offered by such a devastating time in history. But he offers no solution in this scene, only a reflection of failings.

In a later scene, Ford does seem to put forward a solution to the moral turmoil exposed by World War II. After a failed attempt to win back the heart of Doc Holiday, Clementine Carter prepares to leave the town of Tombstone, deciding there is nothing there for her. As she tearfully waits to check out from her hotel, Wyatt, whistling My Darling Clementine to himself, happens upon her. During an awkward yet sweet interaction, Clementine asks the marshal to accompany her to the inaugural town church service, the welcoming bell of which can be heard chiming in the background. They walk in a ceremonious way towards the service, and we can hear the ‘good’ people of Tombstone singing in unison.

A long-shot reveals merely a shell of a belfry. Regardless, there is a large gathering, complete with 'outsiders' observing the spectacle, and two American flags that point in the wind. The provisional preacher declares the residents should dance, and the band starts playing. Another long-shot suggests that the incomplete church is erected almost in spite of the surrounding, much like the town itself, while the flags, prominent in the foreground, seem to watch over the townsfolk. It is a joyous time for the people, and Wyatt, shy as a schoolboy, gathers enough courage to ask Clementine to dance with him. The master of ceremonies respectfully calls for the rest of the dancers to make way for their "new marshal, and his lady fair." The crowd clap and cheer, and both Wyatt and Clementine are clearly overjoyed as they dance around the unfinished church’s floor.

This scene exemplifies much of what Studlar and Bursteinn's quote says about Ford as a director. Tombstone is a town on the brink, literally and figuratively. Built in the desert with a boomtown mentality, Ford argues that the nascent religious presence could save its residence from the crime and moral decay so evident at the film's beginning. It could become a town where a woman such as Clementine, so out of place when she first arrived, could live, as indeed she decides to. Clementine and Wyatt's virtuous attraction is able to thrive in this new environment, even if this seems like nostalgia for a time that likely never was. Their burgeoning romance plays out seamlessly within the wider implications of the first church in Tombstone; evidence of the ongoing civilisation of America's west. The pious people who gather under the banner of religion have found strength together, the antithesis of the town's saloons where morals have little place.

The twin American flags, so evident in the long-shots, propose an even greater meaning for the onscreen events. In Ford's vision it is religion, community, and the moral grounding they can provide will not only save the town of Tombstone, but the world at large. However, it is a distinctively American-style of social identity that is presented as a panacea for the world's ills. Although this is, of course, a speculative reading, it is based on both Ford's personal involvement in the war, as well as America's decisive role. The morally-good people of America, coupled with all-American religion and virtuous celebration are presented as an antidote to humanity’s darker tendencies. Only then will Ford’s ideology be realised.

John Ford's My Darling Clementine finds the director, as well as much of the civilised world, still recovering from the devastating impact of the war. To witness the realisation of people’s dark potential first-hand must have made Ford's sentimental values seem outmoded at best. Yet Ford uses Clementine as a platform to push his personal views as an example of how America and the wider-world had failed to live up to its promise. The argument is not presented in anger, but rather in a lamentable way. These epic ideas blend seamlessly with the smaller-scale stories of Tombstone's tipping-point, along with Wyatt and Clementine's chaste romance. Clementine is Ford entreating his audience to embrace the principles of family, community and humanity, in spite of the almost overwhelming contradictions the war presented.

Bibliography

Martin, Pete. We Shot D-Day on Omaha Beach (An Interview With John Ford). “The American Legion Magazine”, June 1964 in “The Film Journal” (online) http://www.thefilmjournal.com/issue12/ford.html (accessed 13-08-10)

Studlar, Gaylyn, and Matthew Bernstein. John Ford made westerns filming the legend in the sound era. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2001.

[1] Martin, Pete. We Shot D-Day on Omaha Beach (An Interview With John Ford)

[2] ibid