This is 1961's Two Rode Together, a film John Ford made, though I am informed by Wikipedia that he didn't particularly want to, based on a novel by Will Cook adapted for the screen by Frank Nugent. Like many a western, its title doesn't connect to anything in more than a superficial way, and one of the main things you'll notice about it is that it's not as full of "flaring violence" as the above poster would have you believe, not by far. In fact, there isn't really a single action sequence in the whole picture. There's a three-way fistfight, but it's played squarely as a comedy moment. Otherwise, it's just tension all the way down — lots of "shhh!" and pointing guns and calling out bluffs, where no triggers are every pulled.
Extremely representative of what I mean is how the movie builds up a Comanche warrior called Stone Calf as the athletic bad guy who's obviously going to have to be reckoned with before movie's end, probably after he kills the more level-headed Comanche chief our heroes have been dealing with, allowing for a climactic action sequence… except that buildup pops like a balloon when he tries to attack the protagonists' camp alone and is immediately shot, er, Stone dead, if you'll pardon the turn of phrase.
The other really surprisingly thing about this film is how dark it is in its preoccupations, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the main character. Marshall Guthrie McCabe is played by James Stewart, except you could not be more wrong if you tried to make assumptions based on that fact, because Stewart is playing (masterfully) against type as a pretty nasty piece of work; one who mellows before movie's end, obviously, but his is a chattier, more openly sarcastic and cynical version of a character more often associated with John Wayne. No, not even that; in any other movie, McCabe would be the villain. When else has the corrupt town marshall who sells weapons to Indians and alcohol to soldiers been the hero in a John Ford movie? Just to stress how unusually despicable Stewart's character is for a hero, Richard Widmark co-stars as a straight-laced, perfectly virtuous co-hero. Mind you, being despicable never stops him from being a charismatic protagonist, because James Stewart is just that good.
Widmark's quite good too, though he's playing much less compellingly unusual a figure. Actually, everyone with a character of any importance is quite good.
The Comanches are represented… curiously. Stewart's McCabe has a long monologue about how horrible they are, but, of course, it's McCabe, so the movie certainly doesn't seem to agree with all he says (if nothing else, McCabe is simultaneously the guy who trades with the Comanches). On the other hand, Running Wolf is pretty stereotypical and one-note in a way wholly consistent with McCabe's diatribe. So… I don't know. It's certainly not the most progressive portrayal of Native Americans to be found in classic western, let aloen something that could be shown today without public outcry, but it's not distractingly awful or anything, if you keep in mind that McCabe's opinion on things are sour by definition and should not be trusted.
The Comanches, of course, are not played by actual Native Americans, because they never are. The actors have names like Woody Strode and Henry Brandon. That being said, Strode is an African-American, which is something; and Brandon's casting as Quanah Parker is actually more historically accurate than casting a German-American as a Comanche chief might otherwise be, because Parker was the son of a mixed marriage between a Comanche and a European woman. (Clever, then, to pick him as the voice of the Comanches for this story, considering its premise. The movie never points it out, leaving it as a nugget for the audience to find out or not.)
It is, besides, a stunningly well-made movie, because of course it is. John Ford. I highly recommend it, so long, again, as you're not too bothered by the somewhat schizophrenic portrayl of the Comanches.
Post-Scriptum:
- …What the hell kind of name is Stone Calf, anyway?!
