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The Western Genre of the 1990’s - Conflict and Change        Stasia McGehee 12/12/97


The western genre recorded a transitional period in American History, and as such, recounts a variety of conflicts, as various special interests vied for dwindling resources.  The definitive conflict was between cowboys and Indians; but also the western homesteader, "a sod buster" who farmed the land and fenced in what was previously open grazing ground, struggled against the corporate interests of the eastern land speculator, the railroad, or the large cattle company.  And finally, the outlaw, intent upon containing the vast profits of the corporation, is pitted against the sheriff, a minion of an often greedy and corrupt establishment.

Although this theme of conflict is still compelling, the classic western, with its emphasis on the lone cowboy, with an occasional appearance of a female stereotype, is less convincing to today’s more diverse and socially conscious audience.  Thus the western of the 1990’s, informed by theoretical discourses that take into account race, class, gender, and sexual orientation, exists as a revision of the classical genre, and as such, presents a multi-faceted view of American history.  I will address three films directed in the 1990’s and discuss how they adopt the conventions of the classic western to address contemporary issues, while entertaining us as well.
 

Dances with Wolves (Kevin Costner, 1990)
Typical of the classic western, Dances with Wolves deals with the interactions between whites and Native Americans during the closing of the frontier, immediately following the Civil War.  But instead of positing this encounter purely in terms of a conflict that can only be resolved by a brutal massacre, Dances with Wolves portrays the complex interactions of racial conflict and resolution.

The focus of the film concerns a white man’s assimilation into the Lakota Sioux tribe. When a military captain is assigned to the abandoned Fort Sedgewick on the edge of the frontier, his isolation prompts him to make friends with his Indian neighbors, marrying into the tribe, and becoming their ally.  His assimilation into the Sioux way of life is represented by his growing harmony with his surroundings. Gradually replacing his military regalia with that of native attire, the Captain’s transition from white man to native is furthered by his developing bond with a grey wolf, which finally eats out of his hand.  After a buffalo dance, the Captain returns to his post to relive the recent ceremony, singing and dancing around the fire, joined by his grey companion.  Espying him, his Indian neighbors dub him "Dances-with-Wolves," recognizing his growing rapport with nature.

After being fully assimilated into the tribe, Dances-with-Wolves tells his family that he is worried that the white man, numerous "as stars" will eventually disrupt the Sioux way of life. Burdened by the confirmation of many troubling visions, the tribe decides to head for their winter camp. But first Dances-with-Wolves insists upon returning to his post to retrieve his journal, a record of his first encounters with the Sioux.

However, now the lonely outpost has become a thriving military station.  In contradistinction to Dances-with-Wolves growing empathy towards his frontier environment, the soldiers, mistaking him in his native attire, shoot down his horse, beat him, and then take him to be tried and courtmartialed for abandoning his post and "turning Indian."  In a final comment on white cruelty, they then shoot his wolf companion for sport, as he followed them.

The Sioux sense that he is in danger, and return for their friend, attacking the party along the road to Fort Hayes.  But now with the American cavalry hot on their heels, Dances-with-Wolves knows that his presence will only compromise the safety of the tribe; so he and his Sioux family go their separate ways.  In a final scene, a Sioux youth recovers his journal, ending with his final desire to escape to safety so as to tell the Sioux story to someone who can make a difference.

The Portrayal of the Native
The portrayal of the native in Dances with Wolves is much more complicated than a mere inversion of the white is good, Indian is bad paradigm. Complex characterizations posit both whites and Indians as good and evil, trustworthy and traitorous. In general, the Lakota Sioux are depicted positively, while the savagery of the Pawnee is equaled only by the American cavalry; for both are greedy, and have little regard for human life. This alliance is further reinforced in the final scene, showing the American soldiers gaining on the protagonist with the aid of Pawnee scouts. But within the Sioux tribe itself, character development is much more complex, showing a wide range of human emotions and motivations.

The internal politics of the tribe, represented as a democratic forum around the campfire, is influenced by two very strong personalities, Wind-In-His-Hair and Kicking Bird. Wind-In-His-Hair is hot-headed and emotional, with little capacity for reflection. In the council he, without hesitation, opts to kill the newly arrived white man. When a party of Sioux come to raid the captain’s horse, Wind-In-His-Hair screams at him in defiance, "I am Wind-In-His-Hair, and I am not afraid!" This assertion is countered at the end when he screams at him from afar, "I am Wind-In-His-Hair, and I am your friend!" showing that behind his rash emotive nature lies a good heart.

The tribe’s holy man, Kicking Bird is thoughtful and reflective, and for some time has been plagued with visions of the coming of the white man. In his first encounter with the Captain, he is impressed with his unflinching fearlessness, and reasons that a man of such stature might have some influence among his tribe. This theme of influencing public policy is reiterated throughout, as the Captain’s journal, a meticulous record of the Sioux and their way of life, is his attempt to make their story accessible to others.

A Revision of the Classic Western
Compared to the classic western, there has been an ideological shift from the assertion of manifest destiny offered by the earlier westerns, to an indictment of uncontrolled westward expansion.  Thus the effect of the white man upon the frontier is anything but civil, a motherless calf bleating helplessly, while the carcasses of buffalo rot upon the plains.

And unlike the classic western, the ending is inconclusive.  Although an epilogue tells us that 13 years later the Sioux will be forcibly removed to reservations, we are spared witnessing yet another massacre by a cavalry that is illiterate, cruel, and brutish. Identifying with the captain’s desire to make a difference, his journal a manifestation of his impulse to author the course of future events, we participate in the desire to rewrite this ignoble part of American history.  Thus the unfinished ending offers the possibility for negotiation and inter-racial understanding, a theme more relevant to today’s struggle to accommodate diverse segments of the population.
 

The Posse!, (Mario Van Peebles, 1993)
Another film that attempt to rewrite history is The Posse!, directed by Mario Van Peebles. Like Little Big Man (Arthur Penn, 1970), The Posse! uses an aged narrator to tell the story of the American West, but this time from a black point of view, in a self-conscious attempt to take into account the achievements and contributions of African Americans.

The posse is part of an all-black regiment fighting in Cuba during the Spanish Civil War. Jesse Lee, the head of the posse, is a reserved loner with a troubled past, out to avenge the death of his father, the Reverend David King, burned and beaten by the hands of white Klansmen. One by one, he encounters the culprits, administering justice with cool reserve. Like his white counterparts, this cowboy is peerless in terms of marksmanship, common sense, and sex appeal. Jessie Lee is also a literate man, who reads poetry, encouraging others to do the same.

Jessie Lee wages a battle on several fronts. As a conscript in the Spanish Civil War, he is being chased by an army Colonel, who tries to frame him as a deserter. Arrogant, refined, and aristocratic, his racism arises from his position of privilege as he patronizingly humiliates all who are under his charge. Jessie Lee is also besieged by internal demons, revealed in the form of flashbacks. This non-linear narrative style reveals Jessie Lee’s underlying motivations gradually. Fleeing from the Colonel, Jessie Lee is compelled to revisit his home town, the black township of Freemansville. Here he faces the diabolical figure of Bates, the man who lead the fatal attack on his father years ago.

Both the Colonel and Bates are twin evils of the same racist impulses - one emanating from an aristocratic sense of privilege, the other a result of low class ignorance, fear, and greed. The image of fire, so prominent in Jessie’s flashbacks, links the two men, reinforcing the impression of their hellish affiliation. Seen though Jessie’s flashbacks, the countenance of Bates, surrounded by white robes and flames, assumes satanic proportions. And the Colonel’s ability to effect an unholy resurrection from the flames, after being impaled on his own sword, positions him as a blood-sucking infernal creature as well.

Both men are also allied to the railroad, a classic emblem of corporate greed and exploitation. On the way to Freemansville, Jessie encountered black chain gangs, immigrants, and Indians indentured in the service of the railroad. Upon arriving at his hometown, he deduces Bates’ sinister plan to level his father’s dream, selling Freemansville to the railroad. While battling Bates in a classic shoot out scene, the train stops at the small town, and like a Trojan horse, announces the arrival of the wicked Colonel and his cavalry.

But in the end, the epilogue tells us that the real enemy of the Black man could not be personified in the form of a cracker Klansman or a plantation aristocrat. But rather legislation, specifically the Grandfather Clause, divested the black townspeople of their right to own land. Hence the importance of the Reverend King’s emphasis on education, so necessary to effect political change.
 
 

The Ballad of Little Jo (Maggie Greenwald, 1994)
Whereas the first two films deal primarily with race, The Ballad of Little Jo, "Inspired by a real life," the credits inform us, addresses issues of gender and sexual orientation, interweaving the concerns of race and class as well. In a radical departure from the classic western, the protagonist, Josephine Mullahan, is a female…but not for long. From an affluent family, she is thrown out for having an illegitimate child. Entrusting the baby to her sister, she wanders until she is violently assaulted by two cavalrymen. Surviving the assault, she dons men’s clothing, cuts her hair, and slices her face to appear less feminine. She heads out West until she reaches Ruby City, a small mining town, and passes her life as a sheep farmer.

Upon arriving in Ruby City, she is taken in by Percy Corcoran, who sees a kindred spirit in the effeminate youngster. Percy invites Little Jo to stay with him, and recounting the benefits of knowing how to cook he confides, "…and you won’t have to put up with a woman," testing Jo’s response. Jo feigns an ignorance of such culinary concerns, for in passing for a man, she must be careful not to pass as a woman. In the next scene, Jo’s ignorance is more legitimate, as Percy teaches her to smoke a pipe, initiating her into the privileges of manhood. Percy’s identification with Little Jo is further enhanced when the advances of an itinerant prostitute drive Little Jo from the room. But their relationship, seemingly a spectacle of homosexual male bonding, is shattered by Percy’s violence towards the prostitute. Enraged by his own impotence, and her inability to satisfy him, he beats her with his pistol, flourishing it as if to shoot. Unable to contain him, the owner of the establishment wakes up Little Jo, the only individual to whom Percy will relinquish this phallic surrogate.

Disgusted with her friend, Little Jo moves out to spend the cold winter months alone in the mountains, guarding sheep. Jo returns just in time for a spring wedding. Significantly, Percy is positioned on the outskirts, bitterly eyeing the festivities from the perspective of an outsider. Percy’s resentment perversely manifests itself in his next encounter with Little Jo. Having read her mail, he is enraged to find that his cute young protégé is actually a loathed woman, and violently assaults her. Jo nearly kills him in self-defense, but agrees to finance his trip out of Ruby City instead; for Percy notes, ever since his attack on the prostitute, he no longer feels safe among these rugged mining men who now eye him with suspicion. Thus, realizing that the citizens would just as soon kill them both, they come to an uneasy alliance, Percy promising not to reveal her identity. Marginalized by the dominant culture, both characters are forced to live a lie.

After Percy leaves, Little Jo acquires her own homestead, and prospers, until Eastern land speculators begin forcibly removing the homesteaders from their land. Thus the typical western themes of east vs. west, corporation vs. individual is revisited. But the murder of an entire immigrant family offers the most naturalistic depiction of corporate immorality. As a result, Little Jo decides to sell, hoping to return to a normal life as a woman, settling down with Tinman Wong. Ostensibly her cook, Tinman becomes her lover after she saves him from being hung by the town mob, simply because he is Chinese. But as Tinman tells her, there is no turning back now, "They’d kill us." They could never live in peace as an inter-racial couple in this atmosphere of extreme intolerance. But only when the eastern banker, Mr. Grey, arrives with the contract, does she reconsider her decision to sell her homestead. Surreptitiously observing his family, especially the fastidious Mrs. Grey, through the window, Little Jo realizes she can never return to such a banal existence.

Only upon her death do the townspeople find out that she is a woman, the men violently outraged, the women wildly amused. Although a fascinating account of a passing woman, this tale largely deals with the murderous impulses of intolerance, which at that time, spanned all categories of gender, sexual orientation, class, and race. In this film, such an account of Western history is anything but idealized.

Thus comparing the classic western with that of today, we find much more room for diversity. The once idealized role of the cavalry and the lawman becomes highly suspect when viewed from a more marginalized point of view. Race and gender relations are seen in a more complex light as well, exposing injustices while providing viable examples. Stylistically, there is no omniscient narrator that would threaten to confuse a fabrication of Hollywood with an historical document; or if there is, the narrator self-consciously posits a view of history from a different vantage point. Such revisions have helped to revitalize the western genre, preventing it from, like the cowboy, becoming obsolete.

end


This page last updated on December 15th, 1997.
Copyright © 1997 Stasia McGehee.


Written for History of Cinema, Susan Tavernetti, F/TV-042.-0IL, DeAnza College, Cupertino, CA, Fall 1997.