Girish’s fascinating post about “narrative synthesis” includes a discussion of John Wayne’s first appearance in John Ford’s Stagecoach, one of my favorite “first appearances” of all time.
Make sure to read the whole thing, but Girish writes:
John Wayne’s first appearance in the film, unusual because it takes us by surprise, forsaking Ford’s customary style for a second by dollying in for a close-up, the camera not even able to maintain perfect focus as it lunges forward.
It is that slight flaw – the camera blurring out for a bit because it moves in too fast – that truly makes this one of the most memorable moments in American cinema.
Not to mention the fact that John Wayne was not yet a movie star when he made Stagecoach, although he had been working in films for quite some time by that point. Stagecoach was his breakout, and seriously – with his first appearance in the film, it is not hard to understand why.
If I tried to break down what he was doing in these 2.5 seconds, I could probably write 20 pages about what I see. But ultimately, what he is doing is simple, open, unbelabored, and free. It doesn’t look like work, it doesn’t look planned. It looks real.
What he had as an older man in his later roles, he has here, before he was even known, before his “persona” was set.
His essence could not be killed, manipulated, or cheapened. And (most interesting to me) it was there from the beginning. It didn’t NEED stardom to bring it out. He had it already. He happened to become a star, but here he is – in his first appearance in Stagecoach, not a star yet … and it is all there already. Everything that would carry him through his long career. His personality, his machismo, his handsomeness, his unselfconsciousness with gesture (nobody beats John Wayne in that department- nobody), and then – with that last little spontaneous change of expression as the camera pulls right into his face – the vulnerability. It still has the power to take my breath away, what he does in that last second. Like – what?
He had a gift for this stuff. He knew (on some level beyond words, I’m sure) in that moment: “Okay, the camera is at point-blank range now – so don’t keep the face closed, don’t act, but also don’t hold back, open open open it up … ”
Whoosh – open, sesame.
It’s a gut-level understanding of what a closeup is. Watch how he does it.
And it is the vulnerability that makes John Wayne the slam-dunk that he is. Without it, those moments we love so much (the closeup in the trading post in The Searchers, the last moment in The Searchers with his arm crossed over his chest – uhm, the whole effing performance in The Searchers) would not be possible. The toughness, the stoicism, the man-of-action, the bold gestures … all of those things are essential to explaining his appeal. But that small glitch of vulnerability, humanity – that comes at the very end of that first closeup in The Stagecoach – still surprises me, and still makes me think: Who the hell is this guy? I want to see more.
With that particular blend of qualities, he was (or “is” – because doesn’t he still seem so alive? Look at that little breath he takes there at the end) as rare as they come.
The closeup in Stagecoach always reminds me of this beautiful paragraph from Peter Bogdonavich’s book Who the Hell’s in It: Conversations with Hollywood’s Legendary Actors
To me, Duke had always seemed slightly out of breath, as though he hadn’t yet caught up on the last twenty years, not to mention the last twenty minutes. Both [John] Ford and [Howard] Hawks truly loved him, of course, and even knowing him a little, as I did, it was pretty difficult not to like him. All this, and a lot more, obviously communicated itself to the public — still the top American star more than seventy years since his beginning. His visual legacy has defined him as the archetypal man of the American West — bold, innocent, profane, idealistic, wrongheaded, good-hearted, single-minded, quick to action, not given to pretension, essentially alone, ready for any adventure — no matter how grand or daring; larger, finally, than life or death.
First appearance in Stagecoach below. It’s subtitled – but I chose it because it hones in on the closeup itself – the moment I’m talking about. One of my favorite moments in American cinema and it lasts maybe 2 seconds long. That’s all it takes.
I’m at work, so I can’t view the clip–but, I’ve seen it enough to know it by heart. As we have discussed before, Wayne’s detractors seem to have a vested interest in ignoring moments like these when they denigrate the Duke’s acting skills. You are so right, he had an ease with gesture, and with himself, that translated into some of the most natural acting one could ever see. That, and the icon he created(although I love your comment that he HAD that all the time, even before he became JOHN WAYNE), made him a legend. You are also correct in that the sheer size of the man(and I don’t just mean physically)makes it seem as though he will always be alive on some level. Well, you know me–I loved Wayne so I could go on all day. Just enjoyed the post, and Girish’s. Thanks.
DBW – and you know me, I could listen to you go on all day about John Wayne.
I love actors who seem to appear fully-formed in pictures – even if that’s not quite the case. John Wayne plays one of the love interests in Baby Face, a pre-Code movie with Barbara Stanwyck (very racy) – and he seems like a big kid, a little bit unsure – but decent, honest. You can tell, though, he hadn’t found his niche.
But when he got “the role” – in Stagecoach, and found “the director” – in Ford – out he came, fully formed, as if he had always been there. I love that about him. Just needed the right context to place him in – he seems so inevitable, so RIGHT – but I really think Wayne, unlike a lot of other actors who can fit in anywhere and be chameleons, needed the right context.
Thank God he found it.
Also, to Wayne’s detractors: yeah, God forbid acting should look easy.
Sheila,
Love Wayne and enjoyed your post as usual. Wayne was marvelous in close-ups, running the gamut of emotions, all through his career so this was no chance moment happily and accidentally caught by the camera.
Also enjoyed the John Garfield first entrance piece and looking forward to more.
George – You’ve given me an idea. Yet another post I want to write. My favorite “first appearances” – I am fascinated by really powerful debuts, where you just know: That person is a STAR.
Thanks for that. I’d love to hear your thoughts on other “first appearances” that really “got” you.
I’ve been having some personal tragedy the last few months, so my blog has shifted, obviously, but I am trying to get back in the groove. Thanks for sticking around. :)
There’s nothing like a great entrance and something more enjoyable about a great entrance when the actor involved has a larger than life quality already and knows it’s a great entrance. That’s a part of what is at play here with Wayne in front of the projection screen, the whole crew set to shoot this lone actor on a stage just so he can enter the picture.
Another one I always think of, though he was already exceedingly well known and established, is Orson Welles’ entrance in The Third Man. Not only is it a great entrance objectively, revealing a character to Holly and the audience thought to be dead, but what a kick-ass moment it is for Welles. That wry smile on his face as Carol Reed pulls the camera in and you just know Orson is thinking, “I. Am. The. Shit!”
Sheila,
Tough subject, first appearances. One that made an impression on me wasnât, strictly speaking, a first appearance. It was Ingrid Bergman in âIntermezzo: A Love Storyâ (1939). Sheâd obviously made movies previous to her American debut movie and had even made this very movie three years earlier in Sweden, playing the same part. I wonder what my impression of her would have been had this been the very first time Iâd seen her?
In Intermezzo she makes a standard entrance, woman enters room, takes off her coat â sheâs beautiful, okay. It wasnât until her third or fourth scene where sheâs in a café with the Leslie Howard character that she drops the bomb. While listening to Howard she leans back in her seat, in a languid repose, sheâs now physically situated slightly behind Howard and she looks up at him â admiration and a bit more. Close-up on Bergman, in a straight away gaze she starts talking about what music means to her and turns her face up to him again, and the series of looks she gives him, all in rapid succession! I go into meltdown just thinking about it. I donât think I can go on.
As for âThanks for sticking around. :)â
Where else would I go? With all thatâs been going on in the world your blog has remained an oasis for me. I recall your recent post âI Amâ, âI Doâ, just so you know, so do I, and one for you.
Greg – (“Greg”??? Did I miss a memo??) Anyway, wonderful as always to get your comments.
And I agree. The Third Man has to be one of the greatest “first appearances” of a character of all time.
(“Greg”??? Did I miss a memo??)
Well, perhaps, if one considers a post a memo. I wrote it all down on March 18th in this post:
http://cinemastyles.blogspot.com/2009/03/conscious-effort.html
I couldn’t do the pseudonym thing any longer. It was just too much and right now I need my blog too much as a way of honestly expressing myself and I can’t be very honest if I’m hiding behind a pseudonym.
And if you also missed my Rumblefish banner that I hoisted from a screengrab here, you can see it here: http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3081/3096352623_68e93c7784_o.jpg
I used it a couple of months ago but I know how many blogs there are to follow out there and my banners are only up for a day or two. Thanks again for the screengrab, and for not thinking I’m a total whackjob with all the name changing.
I just left a comment explaining it but it’s being held for approval, I guess because I put links in it. Hope that doesn’t screw anything up.
Got it! I think it was because of the links it was held up.
I have been out of the loop, not so much because there is so much to read, but because I can’t really read right now. I go to my favorite sites, look at the pictures, and click away. It is a phase, coming from where I am at right now – and hopefully it will soon change.
I just read your explanation of the name change and found myself in tears. (This is why I can’t read right now.) Your honesty is admirable, and I really really understand the desire to do something you want to do on your blog, whatever that may look like. It gives meaning to life, connects you to like-minded people – and, honestly, even though it sounds sappy, really can make you have faith in humanity. My blog is every which way – I am not writing personal essays anymore – I am not writing diary-like entries about what is happening in my life right now (or, when I do, it’s usually focused on a specific event or museum exhibit or whatever) … there is so much I cannot speak of right now … so I put up family photos, photos of things I have taken – I write about movies I loved when I was 12 years old, and people are still showing up, and being kind, and interested and humorous. There are the couple of folks who couldn’t segue – who resented the fact that they were being “forced” (forced??) to read a blog that had become (in their eyes) trivial. But to me, my blog in the last four months has been the most vital and important in the history of the whole damn thing – at least in terms of what it has provided ME. And that, in the end, is what I care about. I’m so glad people show up – but this place is for ME.
Anyway, Greg (or, like bill kept saying – Jonath— Greg) … I hope you are liking your new format, and using your name – and eventually I’ll get back up on Ye Olde reading horse, and you’ll see me around again.
:)
George – to your last comment, I really really thank you.
And ooh, that entrance of Bergman is awesome and how you describe it is terrific. “I go into meltdown” – ha!!! Roger Ebert said, in the commentary track to Casablanca (and he may have been quoting someone else, I can’t remember) – that Ingrid Bergman paints people’s faces with the way her eyes move. She looks up at Bogart (who, yeah, is standing on a freakin’ box to seem taller than her) – and her eyes dart up, down, side, side – across his face – as though she’s holding a paintbrush with her eyes … and it’s one of the best examples of how to play LOVE onscreen I’ve ever seen.
I can’t think of another actress who really does that to such effect.
Thanks for taking the time to respond here Sheila, I appreciate it and I look forward to seeing you around again whenever you’re ready.