NR | 2h 21min | Western | 1959
The film “Rio Bravo” is drawn loosely from a short story of the same name. It defines heroism as standing up for what’s right, but suggests that it takes more than one hero—and much more than a typical hero—to pull it off.
In Presidio County, Texas, morally upright Sheriff John Chance (John Wayne) goes up against ruthless rancher Nathan Burdette (John Russell), when he imprisons Nathan’s rowdy brother Joe (Claude Akins) on a murder charge. Chance tells his buddy Pat Wheeler (Ward Bond) how Nathan’s got the “town so bottled up” that he “can’t get Joe out or any help in.”
Wheeler offers to mobilize men to fend off Nathan’s professional killers who are trying to free Joe before Chance hands him to a U.S. marshal. Chance refuses, preferring to handpick only those competent enough to take an unswerving stand alongside him. He’d rather not saddle himself with altruistic amateurs, who were less likely to risk their lives because they have too much to lose. Worse, incompetence may get them or others killed.
The Duke
Wayne does Wayne as only he can, carrying a Winchester Saddle Ring Carbine rifle more effortlessly than another man might carry a Colt Single Action Army revolver. His 6-foot-4-inch-tall frame ensures that he doesn’t need to speak or signal to be noticed even in a crowded scene. He simply needs to enter.After 25 years in the film industry, Dickinson was interviewed in 1978 about her favorite male lead. She gushed, “John Wayne! I love him so much. We did ‘Rio Bravo’ together, and he’s such a big lug. ... He’s so fantastic that he needs the right girl. You can’t pick a little petite thing or too young a thing.” Grinning, she continued, “I think I’m just right for another picture with John Wayne.”
Redefining Leadership
Hawks was born in the 19th century. He was immersed in filmmaking for over 30 years by the time he made “Rio Bravo.” Here, he takes his time. The first four minutes play out like a silent film, as if he’s saying that on issues such as justice, courage, and truth, actions do speak louder than words.Italian filmmaker Sergio Leone promptly embedded this laconic narrative style in his wildly successful 1960s spaghetti Westerns.
Hawks goes against the grain in defining Chance. His hero leads modestly from behind, too, not always glamorously from up front. In scuffles, Chance gets hit often and knocked out cold a few times. In armed confrontation, he never uses his fists and is frequently the backup, not the lead gun; in one face-off, it’s a woman who saves him.
He doesn’t trust people easily, but those he does, he backs to the hilt. When pressed by Dude, who’s eager to prove himself, Chance allows him the more aggressive front-door entry into a saloon packed with killers, while he brings up the rear. Chance admits to being “jumpy.” He’s sincere and forthcoming, if not lavish, with praise. He apologizes when mistaken and accepts ideas from unproven allies as long as they’re reasonable.
Chance’s style of leading is to allow his men to “sweat it out.” He resists coddling them because he suspects that it’ll only encourage them to “fall apart in small pieces.” His masculinity is a considered mix of morally inspired initiative, brave aggression, and humble restraint. His sure-footedness as a sheriff, his magnetism as a man, and his charisma as a chief all flow from his control over these qualities, knowing when to use one over the other, how, and how much.
