Forty Guns (1957)

            Westerns are a genre of which the glory days have long since died out. With the exception of recent remakes like 3:10 to Yuma (Mangold, 2007) and True Grit (Coens, 2010), modern cinema has little to offer of the genre, and audiences must look further back to satisfy their cravings for an entertaining and well-crafted Western. Forty Guns, directed by Samuel Fuller in 1957, is one such film.

            When an unruly gang starts wreaking havoc on a small Arizona town, renowned marshal Griff Bonnell (Barry Sullivan) arrives to intervene. He soon becomes enamored with the beautiful Jessica Drummond (Barbara Stanwyck), an influential rancher who leads an outfit of forty men. The two fall in love, but familial drama threatens to separate them.

Best known for her earlier roles in films noir such as Double Indemnity and The File on Thelma Jordon, Stanwyck once again proves to be a powerful onscreen presence. One of the two women in the film (the other being a respectable gunsmithstress), Drummond is simultaneously loved and feared by the men in her band.

While the plot is interesting enough, the true enjoyment of Forty Guns comes in the form of its gorgeous cinematography. The film uses several fascinating stylistic techniques which subtly enhance the characters’ motivations and emotions, without diverting the viewer’s attention from the story. Out of focus point-of-view shots are used to help the audience sympathize with the visually-impaired marshal who gets shot at the onset of the film; they reveal who the true villains are and how horrible they must be to take advantage of someone in such a condition. The POV shot is used again later, when one character is seen in a James Bond-esque manner through the barrel of a gun (although this application of the perspective shot is not as well-executed as the aforementioned.) Forty Guns also employs many unabridged tracking shots that necessitate long stretches of mise-en-scène and flawless camera choreography. There are few close-ups, perhaps to distance the viewer from the complex characters. The film’s vast, open spaces (primarily the backdrop of the opening credits) are breathtaking and make the viewer’s heart ache for a more expansive, natural environment.

            Dark shadows and slashes of light add depth to this Western world, emphasizing the aspect of good versus evil. In the sequence in which Drummond and Griff lie together in her barn, they are each encased in their own slash of light. But as the conversation grows more affectionate, she crosses through the shadow separating them and into his slash, symbolically eliminating any distance between them and affirming her love. Upon learning that she’ll never be with him, one of Drummond’s desirous gunmen hangs himself, and the viewer is left with the eerie double image of his legs hanging from the rafters and the shadow they cast on the wall, slowly swinging back and forth.

            The lavish dining hall sequences stand in sharp contrast with the environments of traditional Westerns, often set in grubby saloons and tight sleeping quarters. Drummond obviously makes quite the living, which proves that she must be working as a rancher for some reason other than money (which we later come to find when Drummond tells Griff her story in an intimate heart-to-heart.)

            Forty Guns may not be the quintessential model of a Western, but it definitely has its merits. Compelling performances and impressive cinematography make this film-viewing experience one not soon to be forgotten.