Move over, Harrison Ford; your namesake John got here first. While comparisons with Andrew Davis' action-packed 1993 thriller are inevitable in discussing 'The Fugitive (1947),' the two films aside from the similarity described in their shared title are completely unrelated, and about as different as two films could possibly be. Unlike many of the Westerns that brought director John Ford his greatest fame, 'The Fugitive' is entirely unconcerned with any form of action or dialogue; Ford's film-making is so concentrated on establishing the correct emotional atmosphere for each scene that it occasionally strays into tedium. However, it was obviously a very personal project for the Ford who once called it "perfect" and it's difficult to criticise a film into which the director poured so much passion and resolve. The story was adapted from Graham Greene's 1940 novel, "The Power and the Glory" {a.k.a. "The Labyrinthine Ways"} and concerns the plight of a victimised Christian priest, in an unnamed Latin American country where religion has been outlawed.
Perhaps the film's greatest weakness, from my reasoning at least, is that it is so concerned with painting each character as an icon or ideal (few characters are afforded names, and are instead credited with indefinite articles; "a fugitive," "a lieutenant of police," "an Indian woman") that it's hard to sympathise with them. Fortunately, while consistently attempting to maintain each character as a "timeless" figure in the film's ageless story, Dudley Nichols's screenplay avoids the usual stereotypes to which most amateur filmmakers would inevitably resort. The Fugitive (Henry Fonda) is not a courageous, humble pillar of human decency, but a misguided clergy driven by an unconscious self-pride; his adversary, the Lieutenant of Police (Pedro Armendáriz), loves his country and its people deeply, but, guided by a fierce blind patriotism and an illogical hatred of religion, he is often misled towards acts of sheer barbarity. The Police Informer (J. Carrol Naish) is a Judas-like character, betraying The Fugitive to the authorities, and becoming inescapably repentant at the thought of his inhumanity.
Despite not being particularly religious myself, I was sufficiently moved by Christianity's noble plight for survival, though I wasn't overly fond of the film's ultimate assertion that the lieutenant's hatred of religion stems directly from his secretly believing in God but being unwilling to admit it. Nevertheless, if you're going to watch 'The Fugitive,' it will most certainly be for the photography, which is, captured by Mexican cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa, indescribably breathtaking. The opening sequence, in which The Fugitive returns to his former church, the light streaking through the windows as though God himself is reaching into the forsaken depths of the building, is spellbinding in its beauty. While Armendáriz is charismatic, and even slightly sympathetic, in his role of the antagonist, Henry Fonda largely looks awkward in the lead role (though you could argue that this uneasiness is integral to his character), and most of the other players perhaps due to a language barrier are similarly stilted. A visual masterpiece this film may be, and certainly an overall interesting watch, but 'The Fugitive' remains inferior Ford.
Perhaps the film's greatest weakness, from my reasoning at least, is that it is so concerned with painting each character as an icon or ideal (few characters are afforded names, and are instead credited with indefinite articles; "a fugitive," "a lieutenant of police," "an Indian woman") that it's hard to sympathise with them. Fortunately, while consistently attempting to maintain each character as a "timeless" figure in the film's ageless story, Dudley Nichols's screenplay avoids the usual stereotypes to which most amateur filmmakers would inevitably resort. The Fugitive (Henry Fonda) is not a courageous, humble pillar of human decency, but a misguided clergy driven by an unconscious self-pride; his adversary, the Lieutenant of Police (Pedro Armendáriz), loves his country and its people deeply, but, guided by a fierce blind patriotism and an illogical hatred of religion, he is often misled towards acts of sheer barbarity. The Police Informer (J. Carrol Naish) is a Judas-like character, betraying The Fugitive to the authorities, and becoming inescapably repentant at the thought of his inhumanity.
Despite not being particularly religious myself, I was sufficiently moved by Christianity's noble plight for survival, though I wasn't overly fond of the film's ultimate assertion that the lieutenant's hatred of religion stems directly from his secretly believing in God but being unwilling to admit it. Nevertheless, if you're going to watch 'The Fugitive,' it will most certainly be for the photography, which is, captured by Mexican cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa, indescribably breathtaking. The opening sequence, in which The Fugitive returns to his former church, the light streaking through the windows as though God himself is reaching into the forsaken depths of the building, is spellbinding in its beauty. While Armendáriz is charismatic, and even slightly sympathetic, in his role of the antagonist, Henry Fonda largely looks awkward in the lead role (though you could argue that this uneasiness is integral to his character), and most of the other players perhaps due to a language barrier are similarly stilted. A visual masterpiece this film may be, and certainly an overall interesting watch, but 'The Fugitive' remains inferior Ford.