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Ignored by The Academy and lightly regarded by critics upon its 1956 release, The Searchers has since found a large fan base and numerous critics to champion the film as John Ford's masterpiece and one of the best films of all time. The film also showcases John Wayne in his most complex role--the western loner, relentlessly searching for his niece and consumed with hatred for Comanches (although he is well versed in their language and ways). As big as the Duke is, he remains within the larger landscape of Ford's magnificent storytelling abilities and the incredible scenery of Monument Valley.
Although filmed on Navajo land in northern Arizona, the film begins in 1868 Texas with a magnificent inside framing shot of a cabin door, opening up to high desert red sandstone formations and turquoise sky (a similar shot will bookend the film). A silhouetted pioneer woman moves from the darkness into the brightly lit desertscape to greet Ethan Edwards (Wayne), arriving back home from the Civil War, and never re-uniting with the Union: "I figure a man's only good for one oath at a time. I took mine to the Confederate States of America." Furthering his isolation, Ethan mysteriously has a significant amount of mint gold coins and hints abound that he's wanted by the law.
The family homestead is now headed up by his brother Aaron (Walter Coy), married to Martha (Dorothy Jordan), who have a son named Ben (Robert Lyden) and two daughters named Lucy (Pippa Scott) and Debbie (Lana Wood/Natalie Wood).
First hint of Ethan's deep hatred for Indians occurs when Aaron's adopted son Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter) arrives for supper. Although Marty is only one-eighth Cherokee, Ethan looks askance and teases him as a half-breed. Demonstrating even more internal conflict is the fact that Ethan was the one who saved Marty from an Indian slaughter years before, but he still resists accepting him as a full relative: "Don't call me Uncle. I ain't your Uncle...Don't need to call me sir either, or Grandpa or Methuselah. I can whup you to a frazzle...name's Ethan."
Drawn away by a cattle raid, Ethan and Marty aren't around for the family slaughter and kidnapping. Without showing any graphic violence, Ford expertly creates suspense through a nifty montage that includes:
1. An eerie silence to accompany the reddish sunset
2. A covey of quail taking flight from a clump of sagebrush
3. Flashing lights
4. The family dog nervously barking on the porch
5. Aaron nervously maintaining his composure, telling his anxious wife that he�s taking his gun to look for sage hens
6. Martha cautioning against lighting the kerosene lamps
7. Lucy realizing the Indian raid is approaching . . . a classic scream!
Only ten-year old Debbie is away from the cabin, as she hunkers by her grandmother's grave. On the gravestone lies the film's only clue to Ethan's intense hatred of Comanches:
HERE LIES MARY JANE EDWARDS
KILLED BY COMANCHES
MAY 12, 1852
A GOOD WIFE AND MOTHER
IN HER 41st YEAR.
Ethan's racism is blatant and troubling, becoming a crucial plot point—after years of relentless pursuit of Comanche renegade Scar (played by Anglo Henry Brandon) and the kidnapped Debbie, we're not sure if he'll rescue her or kill her. He states that she'd be better off dead after living as a Comanche and later writes her off as a blood relative. Foreshadowing Costner's Dances with Wolves, he uselessly slaughters buffalo, cynically saying, "At least they won't feed any Comanche this winter." Ethan's intense hatred isn't even confined to living Comanches, going even beyond General Sherman's statement about "the only good Indian being a dead Indian," he shoots the eyes out of a buried Comanche, explaining what "good" it does to the preacher:
By what you preach, none. But what that Comanche believes, ain't got no eyes, he can't enter the spirit-land. Has to wander forever between the winds.
Other characters chime in with parallel racist attitudes that highlight one of the worst aspects of the Old West, or of the cinematic West winding up in the 1950s. Marty's side story love interest, Laurie (Vera Miles), becomes outraged when she discovers that he has inadvertently married another woman, especially emphasizing that she's a "squaw." Even worse is a fort scene where soldiers have brought three white women who had been kidnapped by Indians, and the deranged three are ready for the loony bin. One guard remarks, "It's hard to believe they're white—to which Ethan characteristically deadpans, "They're not now—they're Comanche!"
A few years ago I exchanged a series of emails with Roger Ebert about the difficulties I had using The Searchers with my Navajo and other Native American students (I was teaching in Tuba City, about 90 minutes west of Ford's beloved Monument Valley), and Ebert admitted that the blatant racism was problematic but didn't see other more subtle forms as relevant. He discusses the issue in a recent retrospective review of The Searchers, a film he loves and has rated among his top ten of all time. Despite Ford's craftsmanship and ability to construct a compelling film amidst the beauty of Monument Valley, this film will not play well with Native American audiences (Navajos especially) because it disregards the culture and displays residual racism that Hollywood hadn't thought of in the 1950s.
One of the reasons that Ford chose Monument Valley was due to the ease of finding Indian extras, but these "Comanches" are all Navajo except for the white chief Scar (painted with brown skin tone), who has a more prominent speaking part. Navajos will laugh at these fake Comanches because they speak Navajo and dress in traditional Navajo garb, and they may fall off their chairs when John Wayne declares that they are singing a Comanche "Death Song"—it's really a social Navajo Squaw Dance Song. More laughter will ensue when "Comanche"-speaking Ethan rides into the camp yelling "Ya-ta-HEY" (a greeting) and "Bela-gana" (white man)—pronouncing both words like a laboring first day tourist to the reservation.
Ford must have liked the face of one old extra because he appears three times as part of different Comanche bands, but as some say "all Indians look alike." Add to the mix the ludicrous "tom tom" background music to signal that Indians are in the area, and you begin to get a sense of why this film plays nearly as badly for Native Americans as Birth of a Nation does for African Americans. Of course, the year is 1956 and Hollywood hadn't thought that cultural accuracy was necessary when it came to Native Americans—one Indian language would suffice for any other, and the Indians are mostly there as background scenery anyway.
Does that mean The Searchers isn't worth watching? Nothing of the sort! John Ford stamps this entertaining western firmly with his style, building suspense visually like the classic line of scouts surrounded on both sides with parallel lines of Comanches. Masterfully incorporating the Monument Valley landscapes without overpowering the characters demonstrates his genius. And no one is better at adding doses of humor to break up the tension—Marty's attempts to rid himself of his Comanche wife, Laurie's little smile when Marty fights for her, or comic character Mose Harper (Hank Worden) sticking out his tongue or just wanting to kick back in a rocking chair.
Just that opening shot through the cabin doorway announces that this is no ordinary film--John Ford's western artistry remains intact, and no one ever photographed Monument Valley as beautifully or crafted a western character more complex than Ethan Edwards. It's a classic that will be studied for years and paints an accurate picture of Hollywood thinking in the 1950s; for that reason it won't play as well with Native American audiences or with people sensitive to its inadvertent racism. But along those lines, there are some less publicized Abraham Lincoln quotes and actions that wouldn't sit well with African Americans.
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