Review of Fort Apache (1948) by Ricardo O — 30 Jul 2010

He Ended the Civil War Still Believing in Glory?

A sure sign of a martinet, no matter the situation, is someone who refuses to make allowances in dress for weather and/or climate. Val Kilmer has many surly things to say on the subject of being made to wear wool while filming [i]Tombstone[/i] because "people would be able to tell." Presumably by how sweat-soaked the costumes are and how many extras pass out from heatstroke. Cold is less frequently an issue, but there are doubtless stories out there of people suffering frostbite or worse because their cold-weather gear wasn't regulation. That I don't know any doesn't mean there aren't, right? Similarly, when Henry Fonda shows up and is not only impeccably turned out but demands that everyone in the fort be as well, you know things aren't going to go well. There are other, worse signs, but that one is a good indicator. That his daughter is turned out in the fashion of a young Eastern lady just makes her innocent and beautiful; she never expresses an opinion of anyone else's clothing's being inappropriate and even lets an old woman try on her hat. She will be a good person.

Fonda is Lieutenant Colonel Owen Thursday, late a general in the Civil War but one of several who only had a battlefield promotion and were returned to lower ranks after the war. He has been sent to Fort Apache, in the middle of nowhere, to take command. He brings his daughter, Philadelphia (yes, really; played by Shirley Temple). Just shy of the fort, they meet young West Point graduate Second Lieutenant Michael Shannon O'Rourke (John Agar), son of the fort's sergeant major, Michael O'Rourke (Ward Bond). Naturally, Phil and Michael the younger fall in love. Equally naturally, the colonel doesn't approve. What's more, the colonel is in conflict with Major Kirby York (John Wayne). York had reason to assume that he would have been given command, but he wasn't. However, he assumes at least that anyone intelligent enough to be commander of a fort is intelligent enough to take the advice of those who have been there, dealing with the Apache, for years. However, of course, once Thursday hears about the possibility that he can be the Man to Bring in Cochise (Miguel Inclán), common sense goes out the window to be replaced by the prospect of getting out of Fort Apache and back somewhere nearer the real seat of power.

Obviously, Thursday is a play on a certain George Armstrong Custer, use whichever rank for him you like. Custer's competence level has been a matter of debate pretty much as long as he's been in the public eye. He was, after all, last in his class at West Point in '61. His promotions through the Union Army had as much to do with his knowing whose orbit to move in as anything else. He created his own publicity, as is to be expected of a man who worked with George McClellan. Several of his former superiors blamed the deaths of himself and his men on Custer's own foolishness. It's quite clear which side John Ford and the screenwriters came down on, certainly. Tuesday is dealing with the Apache, not the Sioux, but he does about the most foolish things possible. I'm also not entirely sure his motives are all that much more pure than Custer's. It's true that Custer just wanted the glory--and possibly the political career Grant and others got out of their Civil War service, and it's true that Thursday just wants to be stationed somewhere else. However, that's glory of its own.

It's worth noting that Thursday's greatest mistake is not treating the Apache with any sort of respect and dignity. It's not difficult to see that the Apache were being cheated by Silas Meacham (Grant Withers), the representative from the US government charged with the wellbeing of those on the reservation. Thursday knows that the scales to give the Apache their beef rations are faulty. He knows that Meacham is selling rotgut and rifles. Cochise tells him plainly of the difficulties this causes--this is killing people quite literally. (Cochise speaks exclusively in Spanish, which gave the chance to be smug about how much I understood.) Thursday sends York out to negotiate, knowing that he doesn't plan to deal fairly with Cochise. He does not listen to what Cochise says. He speaks with pure arrogance, not even basic courtesy. Bad enough that he objects to the relationship of his daughter and the lieutenant out of pure class consciousness; he just doesn't see how he can possibly be wrong about anything. Had he listened to Cochise, York, or both, his story would have ended very differently. In behaviour, he seems like the commanders of both his war and World War I, the ones who didn't realize that warfare had changed and kept throwing their men's lives away in madness.

The two most noteworthy things about this movie, I think, are the scenery and how the Indians are portrayed. It is filmed, of course, in Ford's beloved Monument Valley. There is a scene where York and Sergeant Beaufort (Pedro Armendáriz), riding out to treat with Cochise, are looking over a valley in which a river meanders, having cut its winding path through millions of years of rock. The two men on horseback looking into that sculpted valley is worth the price of admission alone. (Free instant play on Netflix!) And, of course, there is the fact that, in this instance, the Indians are right. Meacham is horribly mistreating them, and the US government lets him get away with it. Thursday wants everyone to go through channels, and he is the one who accuses Cochise of violating the treaty, which I'm sure includes requirements for just treatment of the Apache. This movie shows the Apache as trapped, and for all John Wayne gives us a speech at the end about the glory and dignity of the US military, we are left remembering that Thursday wouldn't listen, and men died foolishly because of it.