…the transfer of “gangster”
imagery to the West follows the pattern set in Dodge City of borrowing appealing elements from an older genre to
aggrandize a Western. But the
consequences of the mixture are different in the two cases. ..the basic premise
of the gangster film had been to question the easy equation of material and
moral progress and to see corruption as the necessary adjunct of America’s rise
to the economic heights. Shifting the setting of the social critique from the
modern city to the Old West “softens” the critique by setting its objectives at
a distance. But at the same time it
widens the scope of the critique to include mainstream industries and
businesses whose “progressive” and respectable character the gangster film
never challenged. And it deepens the critique by locating the source of modern
problems , not in the aberration of Prohibition, the intrusion of immigrants,
or the innovations of the modern city, but in the very scene that Turner and
Roosevelt identified as the site of America’s exceptional genesis—the
nineteenth-century agrarian frontier. ..juxtaposing the referents of the
gangster film with those of the Western epic [in films like Jesse James and The Oklahoma Kid]…was effectively questioning the fundamental
assumptions of the “renaissance” Western.
Slotkin on the “the cult of the
outlaw” (Gunfighter Nation, 295)
The basic ingredients of the
film are recognizable variations on standard “B” Western formulas. The most patent of these is the spectacular
stagecoach-and-Indian chase scene with cavalry riding to the rescue…The main
plot is a variation of the classic “good-badman”
formula. The hero (Ringo Kid), who has
been framed for a killing, escapes from prison to seek
revenge and on the way meets “the girl” who will redeem him through love. ..The
supporting characters likewise represent common “B” Western types—the
apparently respectable banker who turns out to be a crook, an eastern lady out
west who needs the aid of a gallant stranger, the comic drunk, the
rough-mannered frontier doctor, the effete eastern drummer, the southern
gentleman too much on his dignity, the murderous gambler, the sheriff who
sympathizes with his prisoner, the “rube,” the whore with the heart of gold.
Slotkin on the “apotheosis of the B
Western” in Stagecoach (Gunfighter Nation, 304)
In Stagecoach Ford uses the language of the Western as a tool of
inquiry and analysis, exploring and questioning the fundamental assumptions
about American communities that underlie self-congratulatory formulas of the
epic Western and the history textbook.
The little society of the stagecoach is both a microcosm of American
society and the model of an ideal alternative to that society’s normal patterns
of human relations. The stagecoach
community is democratic without being indecisive; familial without the
dangerous passions and tribalism that attend the ties of blood; purposeful and
coherent without being authoritarian. It is neither mob, nor tribe, nor
regiment, though it borrows the virtues from each of these orders.
But the historical status of the
stagecoach utopia is problematic, because it does not describe any specifiable
“stage” on the continuum of the progressive historical scenario. In the historical epic, the achievement of
the heroic quest would have been presented as a metaphor for the triumph of
modern America over its youthful poverty, wildness, or moral disarray; and
while the journey goes forward, the possibility exists that the stagecoach
might constitute a model of some future America at which we will “arrive.” But this possibility is utterly undone when
we get to Lordsburg…[which is] merely the perfection
of Tonto’s hypocrisies and incipient corruption.
Thus Stagecoach completes its ironic commentary on the progressive Myth
of the Frontier. The “progress” achieved through the journey-ordeal belongs
only to the isolated individual—it has no social realization, finds no
historical home. Democracy, equality,
responsibility, and solidarity are achieved—are visible—only in transit, only
in pursuit of the goal. When the goal is
reached they dissolve, and society lapses into habitual injustice, inequality,
alienation, and hierarchy. Our only hope
is to project a further frontier, a mythic space outside American space and
American history, for the original possibilities of our
Frontier have [been] used up.
Slotkin on the fate of the
“progressive myth” in Stagecoach ( Gunfighter Nation, 309, 311)