The perfect blend of story, script, director, and cast

Reviewing The Ox-Bow Incident is something like trying to rate the quality of a proof set of U.S. coins. The set comes from the U.S. Mint, sealed in its tarnish-proof package, and shining irridescently in its mirror-perfect finish. Each coin is its own perfection, and far more valuable to those who appreciate it than it is as a mere coin of the realm.

This movie is much like that. It was directed by William (sometimes referred to as "Wild Bill") Wellman with a touch of perfection that applies only to this film and no other. Other films under his direction could amuse, or thrill, or shock, but only this one - The Ox-Bow Incident - combines the black-and-white Western genre with a light touch of humor, a shocking crime, a frustrating family disappointment, a tragic injustice, and a very faint ray of hope.

The story was by Walter Van Tilburg Clark, and is said to be about an actual incident of the early west. I can't refute this because there are at least two known similar incidents just in the area of Nevada in which I live. The perfect contribution of Mr. Clark is having captured so many disparate elements in a single very short novel -- and done it well enough to attract the enduring attention of Hollywood.

The screenplay is by Lamar Trotti, who lends his own limitless talents to the film by capturing - perfectly - all of the various elements which are necessary to bring the printed word to perfect fruition through the minds, emotions, and actions of the actors who perform his work.

If you have neither read Clark's story nor seen Wellman's film, the plot is both simple and powerful. Two migrant waddies return to town after having followed herds and work elsewhere. One has come to reclaim the affections of a girl who promised to wait for his return. The other follows along to keep his friend from getting too deeply into trouble and, possibly, getting himself killed.

While mourning the fact that the girl didn't wait, word arrives that one of the town's favorite ranchers has been murdered, ostensibly by cattle rustlers. This, as was common in those days, led to the formation of an unauthorized and illegitimate vigillante possee. Before they can leave to track the murderers, more word is received from a Mexican who has seen a band of men and cattle which sound exactly like the villains they seek.

With only a few responsible members and a mob of hotheads, the posse sets out to obtain justice from the killers of the well-liked rancher. In fairly short order, the suspects are overtaken: A fairly young rancher who is taking a small herd home to his own spread and his wife, a Mexican bandido, and a senile old man. It seems obvious that they are the ones who committed the crime. They have the rancher's cattle - but no receipt, and they also have one of the rancher's guns. What more evidence could a posse ask for than this?

Despite pleas by the responsible members of the posse to at least hold a fair trial, the posse pursues the ultimate punishment -- lynching. It wasn't pretty, probably because both Clark and Trotti made sure it wasn't Hollywood. The accused responded to their impending deaths in ways that showed their individuality and their human weaknesses as well as their strengths. This is a time of pure cinematic power that you can't escape feeling, and will never escape remembering for the rest of your life.

I was twelve years old when I first saw this movie. 1943. Migod, so long ago and yet it seems only yesterday. I see it now, the crisp black and white images, the youthful stars, the dialogue adding lustre - polishing the stark images until they burn in my mind. I see it now and I can smell the kaleidoscope of Saturday-Matinee smells in the darkness; popcorn, licorice, bathroom disinfectant, adolescent sweat with occasional brief waftings of Peppermint candy. I can feel the JubeJubes sticking to my shoes between the rows of seats, and the wads of discarded gum under the seat when I pull it down into sitting position. All comes back with the sight and sound of the Stars.

Henry Fonda played Gil Carter, the waddy who came back to claim Rose Mapen, and Henry Morgan was Art Croft, his smaller and infinitely patient protective sidekick. The film opens with a dog crossing the street of an obviously decrepit frontier town, and we are allowed to join Art and Gil as they are supplied with drinks and news of Rose by the bartender, Darby, played by Victor Kilian who would later find recognition as the senile grandpa on the TV series Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.

Upset to find that Rose hasn't kept her word and waited for him, Gil gets slightly sloshed and picks a fight with Farnley, played by Marc Lawrence. The fight is broken up by Darby when he hits Gil on the head with a bottle and leads into my favorite dialogue of the whole movie. "Is he always this mean?" Darby asks. "Naw," Art replies, "he ain't really mean. He just ain't had enough exercise lately. When he gets bored, he gets drunk and has a fight, and then he's just as happy as can be."

I could tell you all about the movie, but why spoil it for you? Think of the cast, and the massive pool of talent they form, and think of the myriad bits of acting perfection they dispense so perfectly that they cease being acting and only contribute to the overall reality. An example is when the town drunk looks at the town's lowest swamper, sparse and wrinkled old Black Sparks (played without screen credit by marvelous Leigh Whipper) who is sitting on the edge of the boardwalk and whittling.

"Mebbe you oughtta come along with us, Sparks...."
"Naw Suh, Ah don' reckon it's any place for me."
"Well, mebbe it's 'xactly fer someone like you.... I mean, an honest to God Reverend type. They's gonna be some hangin', an' I thought there oughtta be some prayin' too."

Sparks gets up and looks at the mob. "Mebbe you right, Suh. Reckon Ah will come along after all."
Gil, shamed by the crudeness of the drunk, speaks up. "They're just foolin' with ya, Sparks. You don't have to go."
"Ah know that, Suh, but Ah reckon he's right. They's some folks gonna need me pretty soon. Ah reckon Ah'll go."

The good guys in this movie are few. Even Gil and Art don't escape completely clean because even though they didn't participate, they didn't stop it, either. The bad guys are "Good Old" Jane Darwell as Ma Grier. She proves as bloodthirsty as any of the males in the mob. Major Tetley, a former Major in the Confederate Army, played arrogantly by Frank Conroy, is a baddy as is Farnley, Deputy Sheriff Butch Mapes, played true to type by Dick Rich without film credit, and all the other members of the posse.

Gerald Tetley, the Major's son played by William Eythe, was among the good guys, as was Arthur Davies (played by veteran actor Harry Davenport) and enough other uncredited actors to make a total of only seven members of the posse able to emerge with clean hands. Seven out of 22 -- certainly nothing to write home about. And, then too, there were the accused.

Donald Martin, the rancher who claimed he had bought the cattle without getting a bill of sale, was played by Dana Andrews in one of his all time very best roles. The Mexican bandido, Juan Martinez, was played superbly by Anthony Quinn with a perfection that worked wonders in his career from this film on. The third victim was known only as the Old Man, a character so far gone in senility that he didn't realize (until too late) what was happening to him. Again, this character was played exquisitely by Francis Ford who embued the old man with a tragic humanity that rocked audiences. It was shot entirely on either studio sound stages or a few outside location shots at the Alabama Hills Film Ranch outside of Lone Pine, California. If you look closely at the streets, you may recognize them from some other westerns as well.

Oh, sure, there are messages throughout this movie, but they certainly don't detract from either the quality of the film or its overall entertainment value. Many deride the messages as being "Liberal," but what's being Liberal other than being supportive of humanity? Take Gil's response to The Major when challenged after asking if the suspects were going to receive justice.

Major Tetley: This isn't slightly any of your business my friend.
Gil Carter: Hangin' is any man's business that's around....

There was a lot going on in this movie that doesn't show on the screen or in the credits. It was 1943, and Henry Fonda had a Draft expemtion as a movie actor because movies were critically important to the war effort. Fonda didn't like being exempted, any more than his character in Mr. Roberts liked being left out of the action. Most of his Movie Star friends had already enlisted and as soon as this movie was over, against the urging of many friends and co-workers, Fonda enlisted and went to serve in the U.S. Navy.

Actor Marc Lawrence had been relatively unknown until >b>The Ox-Bow Incident</b> and then began getting more and better roles -- until the onset of the House Unamerican Activities Committee hearings in Washington. Lawrence had been a brief member of the Communist Party in the early 30's, and was pressured to name other members. Like many brave people in Hollywood who knew they would be condemning people who had merely made a brief political mistake, Lawrence refused to name names. He was blacklisted and his career ruined. In desperation he later named a few other members, but it was too late to help him. His career was finished and he spent the latter part of his life living in Italy on a farm.

The film, now appearing at a taut less-than-90-minutes, has (unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your perspective) been trimmed from its original length. The credits show the names of people you don't see, including Mary Beth Hughes as Rose Mapen. In watching it now, you will probably agree with me that any characters or action not relating to the basic story would only weaken the picture.

The picture won the Film Critics Award for Best Picture, and was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. It was admitted to the National Film Registry in 1998 and is recognized as one of the top ten westerns of all time. Fittingly, the movie ends with the same dog from the opening, coming back across the street as Gil and Art ride out of town. I recommend it to you without reservation. Enjoy.