Stagecoach (1939)

Stagecoach is usually credited with making John Wayne a star, and he is certainly very good here as the Ringo Kid. However, this is truly an ensemble film, and every one of the performers is a joy to watch. Wayne doesn’t even appear until almost twenty minutes into the film’s 96-minute running time. In fact, he isn’t even the top-billed star of the movie; that honor went to Claire Trevor instead. What Stagecoach really offers, other than Wayne’s star-making performance, is a Western with lots of adventure and, more interestingly, a lot of character development. Nine people are sharing a small space for much of the film, and they get to know each other rather well… and so do we.

The threat of an attack from Apache chief Geronimo and his warriors hovers over the film from the very beginning, but despite the lack of a promised military escort, a band of travelers boards a stagecoach in a small town in Arizona. They're quite an assortment: Dallas, a woman whose reputation has led the “decent” ladies in town (the Law and Order League, an ominous-sounding group, to say the least) to exile her; a second woman who is later revealed to be pregnant although she demonstrates no obvious signs that she is near delivery; a whiskey manufacturer everyone mistakenly assumes is a preacher; an alcoholic doctor who quickly befriends the whiskey maker; a slick gambler type who seems a bit too sympathetic to the plight of the expectant mother; a banker who is trying to escape with a substantial amount of payroll funds; and the driver. They’re joined by a marshal searching for the Ringo Kid and, later, Ringo himself, who winds up being held captive to prevent him from going after the men who killed his brother.

Have I mentioned that these characters are played by some of the best actors in Hollywood at the time? Thomas Mitchell, who was having a very good year in 1939, won the Oscar for his portrayal of Doc Boone, the drunk who sobers himself up long enough to deliver a child. Trevor plays Dallas, the saloon girl who seems to have accepted that no one will ever look at her as human, only to be surprised by Ringo's tender demeanor toward her. John Carradine plays Hatfield, the gambler with a dubious past; he has just the right amount of oiliness for the part and is certainly appealing with all of his angles and style. Andy Devine plays Buck, the stagecoach driver who can never seem to get a full meal no matter where they stop; Devine was always a delight as the comic relief in a movie. And the list goes on.

Also along for the ride are Donald Meek as Peacock, the whiskey merchant who surprisingly manages to stand up for himself a couple of times; Louise Platt as Lucy Mallory, the wife of a cavalry officer who’s traveled from Virginia to reunite with a husband who seems to get farther and farther away from her the longer the coach travels; George Bancroft as the marshal inexplicably nicknamed Curley; and Berton Churchill as the banker Gatewood, who represents a privileged old white man who annoys almost every person he shares space with because he expects preferential treatment and deference from everyone else. Gatewood and Hatfield have an intriguing exchange about the Civil War and what it’s called that reveals a lot of unresolved tensions in the country at the time that the film takes place.

And then there’s Wayne, here in his 80th movie (already!) and truly at the top of his form. You'll probably be surprised by how youthful he looks; despite his rather lanky frame, he's also one of the prettiest men you'll see on film. Director John Ford certainly takes advantage of his leading actor's good looks from the time the camera zooms in on his face when he first appears on screen. That dolly zoom to a close-up is certainly designed to highlight an actor’s star quality. Wayne’s Ringo Kid has broken out of prison so that he can return to Lordsburg to kill the men who shot and killed his brother. Almost everyone, including the marshal, thinks he’s justified in doing so even if it’s against the law. Ringo is also quite a gentleman in many ways. For example, he treats Dallas like a lady, but she’s unaccustomed to this kind of reaction. He almost demands that the other passengers treat Dallas the same way they treat Mrs. Mallory. It’s a bit surprising that he asks Dallas to marry him and move to an isolated ranch so quickly after they meet, but Wayne and Trevor do have tremendous chemistry on screen.

Since this is a Ford Western, there is a shootout between the men on the stagecoach and the Apache, of course. The cavalry always seems to leave the passengers just before they need protection, but they show up at the last minute to rescue the coach. That’s what happens in the most spectacular sequence in the film. Honestly, the stunt people certainly earned their salaries on Stagecoach, particularly in this part of the film. It’s fantastic work. The film is mostly shot in Monument Valley, which would become one of the director’s favorite places to make movies. He takes good advantage of the openness of the valley in the long shots that follow the stagecoach.

A lot does happen to these nine passengers during the course of the 96 minutes. The first cavalry troop leaves them alone in what’s termed Indian Territory. A group of vaqueros take the horses from the coach while everyone is waiting for Mrs. Mallory to recover from giving birth. The ferry that they were hoping to take has been burned to the ground. And all of this occurs before the shootout between the coach passengers and the Native Americans. We get to see just how rough the ride was from Tonto at the film’s start to Dry Fork to Apache Wells to, finally, Lordsburg. It makes you wonder how anyone managed to make such journeys.

While the shoot-outs are certainly interesting and the scenery is breathtaking, it's the interaction between these characters stuck in that tiny coach that make the film entertaining. It’s also a testament to the script that every character gets a resolution by the end of the movie. Trevor is my particular favorite in this film; she has a way of looking at the other passengers in such a way that you know exactly how she feels about them – it's  usually revulsion, by the way. Trevor gets one of the best lines in the film when she looks at the judgmental Law and Order League and comments, “There are worse things than Apaches.” Trevor would win an Oscar a few years later for Key Largo, but she livened up dozens of films in her career, including this one. Mitchell is a close second, and he's even better here than he is in that other movie for which he took a supporting role in 1939. Perhaps you have heard of it? He plays Scarlett's father in Gone with the Wind.

Stagecoach is one of the best movies from the Golden Age of Hollywood and one of the greatest years for film. It richly deserved its place on the list of films up for the Best Picture Oscar that year. Even if almost every character and plot line has since become something of a cliche (an Apache attack! a last-minute cavalry rescue!), you can still enjoy seeing this film. It certainly is a product of its time with its use of derogatory terms for Native Americans, but it also manages to seem fresh and entertaining many years after its initial release, and much of that is a testament to the great cast and to the people like Ford who brought them together for this ride.

Oscar Wins: Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Thomas Mitchell) and Best Scoring

Other Nominations: Outstanding Production, Best Director (John Ford), Best Black-and-White Cinematography, Best Art Direction, and Best Film Editing