Inherit the Wind (1960)

Inherit the Wind (Stanley Kramer, 1960) I'm of a liberal frame of mind, which, if you take it as a true meaning, means that you are open to new ideas—even conservative ones. I know this may sound heretical to some and pollyannaish to others, but that's okay. It's my frame of mind, nobody has to picture it but me, though I may hang.

But, there are some movies with a liberal bent that just chap my hide and this Stanley Kramer film of Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee's 1955 fictionalized play (adapted by Nedrick Young and Harold Jacob Smith) about the Scopes Trial that centered on whether evolution could be taught in schools is one of them.

I say "fictionalized" because it does not feature Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan (who argued on both sides in the 1925 Scopes Trial), but "Henry Drummond" (played in the film by Spencer Tracy) and "Matthew Harrison Brady" (played in the film by Fredric March) as court-opponents. Heck, John T. Scopes is named "Bertram Cates" (and played by, let's face it, the simian-looking Dick York) and "E.K. Hornbeck" (played by Gene Kelly) is a stand-in for H.L. Mencken. 

Do a comparison of the trial's events and the play and you'll find so many deviations and fabrications and omissions (did you know that Bryan offered to play Scopes' fine if convicted?) that you begin to wonder if the game is rigged. It is, and the authors defended that by saying they weren't doing a dramatization of events (no, no, no, no!), but the play as a metaphor for McCarthyism and social "thought control."

But, an audience might be convinced that what they're seeing is how things ...evolved.

First off, the Scopes Trial was a sham. The issue was The Butler Act, not evolution. A court can't decide on the validity of scientific theory, but can question the constitutionality of laws regarding free speech and public schools.
The Butler Act said, in part: "That it shall be unlawful for any teacher in any of the Universities, Normals and all other public schools of the State which are supported in whole or in part by the public school funds of the State, to teach any theory that denies the Story of the Divine Creation of man as taught in the Bible, and to teach instead that man has descended from a lower order of animals." Joseph W. Butler was a Tennessee State Rep and a member of the World Christian Fundamentals Association who'd heard that (no doubt "from a lotta people") that kids were coming home from school telling their parents that the Bible was bunk.

The ACLU wanted a test case. Scopes, a substitute science and math teacher agreed to be the defendant when asked by Dayton business leaders—prominently George Rappleyea—to test the law, believing it would bring a lot of publicity to Dayton. Remember that. Butler's Law had one big thorn in it. Tennessee public school teachers were required to use a textbook, Hunter's "Civil Biology", which had a chapter on evolution. In other words, if a science/biology teacher did their job using that required text, they'd be violating the Butler Act. Rock meet Hard Place. But, Scopes—after some initial reluctance agreed saying "If you can prove that I've taught evolution and that I can qualify as a defendant, then I'll be willing to stand trial."

Scopes couldn't remember if he'd actually taught evolution, but coached students to say he did in order for an indictment to be made. When the gran jury recommended trial, the prosecutors—who were friends of Scopes'—reached out to Bryan—who had been very vocal in his support of the Butler Act to join their team. Bryan, never the shyest of men, agreed, although credit for the request went to the head of the WCFA. The defense reached out to Darrow, who initially refused so as to keep the whole thing from becoming a circus, but as it was becoming one, anyway, accepted. 

"The trial," (such as it was) was broadcast on radio, with witnesses for evolutionary theory blocked, prejudicial instructions from the judge and a completely unnecessary debate between Bryan and Darrow on the last day because Bryan, believing he'd been one-upped by the defense's arguments regarding the Bible (the jury did not hear them because the judge excused them from that part of the defense's case, pending dismissing that part of the testimony) wanted the last word. The thing was, he was being questioned by Darrow and that last, seventh day of the trial (held outdoors because of the stifling heat) devolved into arguments and was finally gavelled finished by the judge.

Ultimately, the jury found Scopes guilty, he was charged a $100 fine by the judge and the verdict was overturned on appeal by a technicality. That technicality being inherent in the Butler Act, itself: the judge fined Scopes $100 as per the tenets of the Butler Act, but Tennessee judges under the state constitution could not charge fines more than $50, only juries could. And that was the end of the Scopes Trial. The Butler Act was repealed in 1967.

Inherit the Wind would have you believe that the judge only fined Scopes $100 out of political expediency and because he didn't want to give the town any publicity. But, publicity is what the whole trial was about and its purpose for being. And the film also makes its Darrow stand-in so warm-and-fuzzy and tolerant about the Bible that it runs afoul of Darrow's attitude throughout the trial. The movie's theme is "(Gimme That) Old Time Religion," but it should have been "Kumbaya."

Inherit the Wind is a plea for tolerance merely, but to see it as anything more runs afoul of everything about the actual incidents as they took place in 1925, incidents that were staged and manipulated for maximum exposure and cotton candy sales, as real and as truthful as a television reality show. To further compound it by fictionalizing it is to lend it a credence that it never had and a relevancy that it never achieved...for either side.

Where do I stand on the evolution debate—not that that is what Inherit the Wind is about? Well, I'm more scientifically prejudiced towards the evolution side—frankly, I prefer my flu shots to be the current, robustly effective ones than a ten year old variety that will do nothing against a flu-strain that has evolved beyond the ability for that vaccine to kill it.

But, then, I've always liked Stanley Kubrick's "take" on the idea, as expressed in 2001: a Space Odyssey (about to hit its fifty-second anniversary next month), which took the question of "were we created by a god, or, did we evolve, naturally, over time as the fittest survivors?" and came up with the answer "in a Universe of possibilities, why can't it be a little bit of both?"

Rio Bravo

Rio Bravo (Howard Hawks, 1959) Rollicking pop-western that might be, along with Only Angels Have Wings, the quintessential Howard Hawks movie. It's a drama with comedy. And if it was a mystery starring Humphrey Bogart, it would be acclaimed for its dexterous story-telling and depth of technique.

But because it's a "John Wayne Western," it gets no respect, or retrospective. But who says life is fair? Certainly not a man hung with a moniker like John T. Chance.

The story goes that both John Wayne and Howard Hawks hated High Noon, but for differing reasons: Wayne, because it was a veiled slam at McCarthy and Hawks because of its basic story structure. Hawks found it appalling that Sheriff Will Kane (Gary Cooper) would ask for volunteers in his fight against the Miller boys. "It's his responsibility. Let him handle it," was Hawks' reasoning. "If he can't, he shouldn't have the badge."

It's a sound argument, and Hawks makes it the cornerstone for the beginning of Rio Bravo. Sheriff Chance (John Wayne) has a member of the Burdette gang (Claude Akins) jailed for murder, waiting for the Marshall to get to town. For help, he has his coot-ish old deputy "Stumpy" (Walter Brennan, sans teeth) and a former deputy named "Dude" (Dean Martin), who suffers from the shakes and dry heaves during an imposed drying out spell.

"That all you got?" says wagon-master Pat Wheeler (Ward Bond), not really asking.

"That's what I got," says Chance.

Chance refuses all offers of aid from the townspeople; the guys he's got are at least deputized. They won't get in the way like "well-meaning amateurs." And the one guy from Wheeler's party he'd like to have help--Ricky Nelson's "Colorado" (or as first, Wayne, then everybody pronounces it, "Colorada")--won't. It's the kid's good sense not to get involved with the fight that impresses Chance the most.

And this is why I prefer Rio Bravo to an ideology-based western trying to make societal points, like High Noon: Rio Bravo is practical. All the protagonists have to do is wait out the Burdettes, who are always thinking up ways to breach the jail. There are also other concerns--Dude's alcoholism and self-esteem issues. Then there's "the girl," "Feathers" by name (Angie Dickinson), and she's a boiled-down bad good girl in the best "plays-with-boys" tradition of Hawks women. her exchanges with a flummoxed and humiliated Wayne are some of the best examples of Hawks' "three-corner" line of dialog in the director's canon (and despite the screen credits of Jules Furthman and Leigh Brackett--look at her resume some time--it was Hawks who wrote the dialog).

There are joys aplenty in the details of "Rio Bravo," if one is looking for them. For example:

--The opening: A wordless mini-movie that establishes a lot of relationships with no one exchanging a word. "Dude's" alcoholism and his willingness to humiliate himself for a drink, countered by Chance's concern and disgust all told visually. Hawks shoots films the old traditional way of studio films--mid-shots of the participants centered at eye-level. But for the introduction of Wayne that rule is violated, with an up-angle shot of the Sheriff, shaking his head, from "Dude's" floor-perspective. It's just the first of many strong scenes featuring Martin, recently split from the Martin and Lewis duo, and determined to make it as an actor/singer in his own right.

--Despite the seemingly simplistic story-line, the film is rich in sub-text. For example, watch the oft-used Hawks device of cigarettes--who needs one, who offers, who lights--as an indicator of relationships and charity. Hawks did this in several films, but the tobacco flies fast and loose in Rio Bravo.

--Half the fun of watching "Rio Bravo" is watching the other actors' reactions in scenes. A couple of favorites: Watch Wayne as "Colorada" confronts a fancy-vested gambler who might be cheating at cards.* Wayne's weapon of choice throughout the film is a carbine; he rarely doesn't have it in his hands. During this scene, he holds it lightly in his right hand. When "Fancy-Vest" reaches for a weapon, "Colorada" beats him to the draw. But, off to the side, Wayne has reacted by bringing his rifle to bear, then, once he sees the kid has the situation under control, continues the arc of the rifle to cradle it in his arms, as if that was his intention all along.

--At one point, "Dude" tries to keep information away from Chance, but has his subterfuge spoiled by "Colorada" walking up and blurting it out, while Martin seethes in the background.

--Music is an important component in Hawks' work. At one point, there is a sing-along between Martin, Nelson, and, improbably, Brennan. It might seem a hokey moment, but it means something. before this scene, the three were squabbling. Now, they're harmonizing as a unit, collaborating and getting out of each others' way. It's Hawks' way of showing barriers have been broken and a cohesive unit has been formed, something that was done in Bringing Up Baby, Only Angels Have Wings, To Have and Have Not, and countless others. 

Rio Bravo is a rich movie-experience, deeply rewarding, and demanding repeated screenings to catch all the details--not a hardship, as it's also fun. It's a distillation, summing-up and expansion of the elements that made Howard Hawks such a unique film-maker, and gifted story-teller.

Can't we all just sing-along?
Harmonizing indicates cohesiveness in Rio Bravo