Sobering thoughts at 'High Noon'

Do not forsake me, oh my darlin', on this our wedding day...

Watching one of my favorite movies tonight. Fred Zinnemann's "High Noon," Gary Cooper, 1952, one man standing alone when the town refuses to help.

It's a western, sure, but it's more than that; it's an allegory, it's a fine story, it's a searing, bothersome examination into the dark recesses of human nature.

My pal Dean Harned and I disagree vehemently about the film. He co-opted his argument from John Wayne -- claiming that "High Noon" is "un-American," that no "true American" would refuse to help Coop's Marshal Will Kane defend the town against pardoned murderer Frank Miller (Ian MacDonald).

I'm not so sure.

"High Noon" was influenced by the McCarthy blacklisting of the '50s. Look at it through that lens and it's quite easy to picture the ugliness of which human beings are capable.

Overlook all that seriousness, though, and this is a darn good movie. Kane has just married the Quaker Amy Fowler (the serenely beautiful Grace Kelly) when he receives a telegram that Miller, a murderer he sent up the river 5 years ago, has been pardoned. Everyone -- including his wife -- urges Kane to get out of town. But he can't do it. Feels an obligation not to run.

Initially the town agrees to help. But, when push comes to shove, they abandon Kane, leaving him alone to face Miller and his gang.

Wayne so hated this film that he and Howard Hawks made "Rio Bravo" in 1959 to dispute it. Hate to say it, but Duke's response isn't anywhere near as good as this classic.

Leaders like Will Kane are few and far between these days. Sadly, I think you could throw a rock and find plenty of people like the cowering townsfolk in "High Noon."

I'm not a doomsday-ist. I don't believe that America is in decline. I don't think this country has seen its best days.

But I do think I've learned a little about human nature, and I dare say there's a little bit of the "High Noon" denizens in all of us. Will Kane is who we hope we are, the type of person we'd like to think we'd be given the circumstances, even if we often fall far short of such character.

It's a heavy lesson to learn -- one I've spent most of my life trying to ignore, but one that keeps proving itself time and time again in so many different circumstances.

Sobering thoughts indeed on a stormy Tuesday night.

A farewell to melodrama

Maybe whoever comes up with the ideas to remake all of these old movies should take a look at "A Farewell to Arms." Unlike most of the classics Hollywood later decides to butcher, Ernest Hemingway's best novel has yet to receive a worthy film adaptation.

I watched the 1932 original, with Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes, sometime last year. No need to repeat myself; it sucked.

So I tried again tonight with the big budget David O. Selznick 1957 Fox CinemaScope version, starring Rock Hudson and Selznick's wife Jennifer Jones.

And I'm still waiting to see a good version of this tragic, beautiful story.

The later version is pretty. Director Charles Vidor captures some beautiful footage of Italy and Switzerland. The ending is much closer to Hemingway's final pages than the overblown closing frames of the '32 film.

And that's about all I can say. Jennifer Jones was a beautiful woman, but it's obvious she would not have been cast in this film had she not been married to the producer. Hudson has his moments, but just isn't emotive enough to play Lt. Frederick Henry. When he tries, you can cut the melodrama with a knife.

Hemingway's novels have found little success on the big screen. He's meant to be read, of course. Without Papa's tough, terse prose, it just doesn't work.

If you love this novel -- and to read it is to love it -- don't watch either film adaptation. Go see something at the theater. TiVo your favorite TV show. Flip on the radio. Take a walk in the woods.

But don't see this movie. It's kind of like returning to the park you loved to visit as a child, only to discover it's now a parking lot, with a Pizza Hut on one corner and a Blockbuster Video on the other.

On second thought, Hollywood, don't even bother trying to remake this film. You won't get it right anyway.

Besides, the bookshelf that holds all the Hemingway novels is only a few feet away.

Walk of life

Didn't make it up in time to work out this morning. Stayed up too late doing research for a column and watching reruns of "The Six Million Dollar Man." (Don't ask.)

So, about 6:30 tonight, I took a break from work and pointed the Xterra in the direction of the Halls Greenway. If you're looking for a place to walk -- and you live out here in God's country -- consider this trail. You can get to it at either the library, the Food City parking lot or the Halls Community Park.

It's a fun little jaunt. In the mornings I watch the sun come up over the horizon and look out for any critters that might be stirring early. Tonight I grin at all the girls and smile at the little kids practicing football in the park.

Most folks say hello; some smile or nod. I usually walk about 30 minutes at a brisk enough pace to break a good sweat. It beats plopping down in front of the TV like a beached whale.

Seems like since I started walking again I have more energy than Mary Lou Horner. (OK, not quite that much.)

Tonight after work I plan to spend a couple of hours with the 1950s version of "A Farewell to Arms." I ordered it from Netflix.

I hope I'm not as disappointed with this one like I was after screening the melodramatic Gary Cooper/Helen Hayes original. This is one of my favorite novels; it deserves a better film treatment.

Still, I know it isn't going to be half as good as the Horton Foote-scripted 1962 film adaptation of "To Kill A Mockingbird," which I've been reading this week as part of the Library's "Big Read."

Sigh. I may just watch that one instead.