John Ford's grandson, Dan, wrote of "Sergeant Rutledge" that Pappy was really feeling his age on this one and I guess he's right. There is a scene near the beginning in which a cavalry officer, Jeffrey Hunter, meets the blond young Constance Towers. The scene takes place on a train at night. But Ford didn't bother to put the interior of the railroad car on rockers. The result is a static picture of two people talking on a stationary interior set.
The same carelessness extends to the rest of the film. Many of the interiors were obviously shot in the studio with painted backdrops outside the window. The few images of Monument Valley, true Ford territory, are magnificent and stand out from the rest. The writers have given the defense counsel a big mistake in the dialog. Jeffrey Hunter argues that, so far, the evidence the court has is balanced but that "one iota of evidence can tip the scales either way." Now, even the most callow screenwriter knows that evidence does not come in "iotas." It invariably comes in "shreds."
There is a problem with the casting as well. Willis Boucher is heading Woody Strode's court martial. He's always a reliable blowhard. And Jeffrey Hunter is a stalwart leading man. But it's arguable that Woody Strode himself can carry such a prominent part in a film. He's a football player, not a natural actor. He has one monumental statement and handles it well but the speech is just a bit too long, about one sentence too long. The rest of the acting is below par. Ford was at that point in his career where he was ready to pass out roles to old friends, but his old friends were disappearing. This is one instance in which more of the John Ford stock company would have been a welcome substitution for actors in important roles who just can't handle it.
The suave and supercilious Judge Advocate, Carlton Young, is fine but Constance Towers isn't much of an actress. Jan Styne, as the son of the suttler, Fred Libby, has the capacity to act in a routine television sitcom, and evidently has been allowed to do so. As his father, Libby is a positive embarrassment, being slapped around in the witness chair until he confesses to the rape and murder of a young blond -- "I had to HAVE her! I had to HAVE her!" He slumps to the floor and pounds the seat of the chair, sobbing and overacting. Perry Mason would never have allowed this to happen.
Yet there's something enjoyable about the movie. Not just that it was made by John Ford, but that it's a courtroom drama with enough outdoor action scenes to keep a viewer interested. There are a few plot holes but what's the difference? Ford is making up for all the butchery he's visited upon minorities in the United States. "Killed more Indians than Chivington and Custer combined," he said -- or something like it. I'm too lazy to look up the exact quote. It's a little confusing but at no point is it boring. Another observation. The cavalry officers all have trouser stripes of burnt orange, whereas the legal officers wear stripes of a kind of bright platinum. I much prefer the latter. They're really spiffy. And if I were to join the post-war cavalry I would make sure I was a lawyer so I could wear those brilliant trouser strips instead of the dull gold of the cavalry.
I'm giving it six points but I'm being a little generous in doing so.
The same carelessness extends to the rest of the film. Many of the interiors were obviously shot in the studio with painted backdrops outside the window. The few images of Monument Valley, true Ford territory, are magnificent and stand out from the rest. The writers have given the defense counsel a big mistake in the dialog. Jeffrey Hunter argues that, so far, the evidence the court has is balanced but that "one iota of evidence can tip the scales either way." Now, even the most callow screenwriter knows that evidence does not come in "iotas." It invariably comes in "shreds."
There is a problem with the casting as well. Willis Boucher is heading Woody Strode's court martial. He's always a reliable blowhard. And Jeffrey Hunter is a stalwart leading man. But it's arguable that Woody Strode himself can carry such a prominent part in a film. He's a football player, not a natural actor. He has one monumental statement and handles it well but the speech is just a bit too long, about one sentence too long. The rest of the acting is below par. Ford was at that point in his career where he was ready to pass out roles to old friends, but his old friends were disappearing. This is one instance in which more of the John Ford stock company would have been a welcome substitution for actors in important roles who just can't handle it.
The suave and supercilious Judge Advocate, Carlton Young, is fine but Constance Towers isn't much of an actress. Jan Styne, as the son of the suttler, Fred Libby, has the capacity to act in a routine television sitcom, and evidently has been allowed to do so. As his father, Libby is a positive embarrassment, being slapped around in the witness chair until he confesses to the rape and murder of a young blond -- "I had to HAVE her! I had to HAVE her!" He slumps to the floor and pounds the seat of the chair, sobbing and overacting. Perry Mason would never have allowed this to happen.
Yet there's something enjoyable about the movie. Not just that it was made by John Ford, but that it's a courtroom drama with enough outdoor action scenes to keep a viewer interested. There are a few plot holes but what's the difference? Ford is making up for all the butchery he's visited upon minorities in the United States. "Killed more Indians than Chivington and Custer combined," he said -- or something like it. I'm too lazy to look up the exact quote. It's a little confusing but at no point is it boring. Another observation. The cavalry officers all have trouser stripes of burnt orange, whereas the legal officers wear stripes of a kind of bright platinum. I much prefer the latter. They're really spiffy. And if I were to join the post-war cavalry I would make sure I was a lawyer so I could wear those brilliant trouser strips instead of the dull gold of the cavalry.
I'm giving it six points but I'm being a little generous in doing so.