Elia Kazan is one of those filmmakers that makes it damn
near impossible to pick a favorite film because of such a vast number of
inarguable masterpieces to choose from. I’ve had many an argument over whether A
Streetcar Named Desire is superior to East of Eden, or why On The
Waterfront will always best Gentlemen’s Agreement. But, at the end
of the day, when looking back at such an intimidating filmography, I have to
side with Kazan himself and crown Wild River as his best picture. Or, if
not best, at least the most fascinating.
The
aforementioned stubborn old lady is brought to life by Jo Van Fleet (Cool
Hand Luke, The Tenant and Kazan’s own East of Eden), who is
45, portraying an 80 year old. Ella is a proud woman who aggressively guards
the farm that has been in her family for decades. Of course (we are in
Hollywood) she has a widowed granddaughter that will serve as a perfect
catalyst and love interest for Chuck. Chuck inevitably begins to fall in love
with Carol (an entrancing Lee Remick with the most piercing blue eyes since
Rosemary Clooney in White Christmas), and the two of them begin the
battle of trying to create the best possible situation for Ella, whilst
navigating the waters of falling in love.
Now, why
should you care about this film more than any other Kazan film? Very simply,
Kazan is playing by the same rules he built a career on, but has added a layer
of subtlety that muddies the waters. Those familiar with him will no doubt
expect some sort a tortured, tumultuous relationship at the core of the film. That
expectation will certainly be met, but the romance here feels so earnest and
organic that it becomes the centerpiece for the characters and the audience to
latch onto as the film descends into darkness. Kazan couldn’t resist a
passionate, animalistic love story and Wild River offers quite a
different angle to approach what could have been a typical love affair. Rather
than retreading old territory with in-your-face lovers and their quarrels, like
A Streetcar Named Desire, Kazan is this time placing love right beneath
the thin, near-exploding surface. The entire film bubbles with sexual tension
and the anticipatory tingle of promised violence. Contrary to assertions at the
times of its release, Wild River is anything but a slow film. Rather
than allowing what is surely one of Kazan’s most melodramatic stories to reach
eye-rolling levels of convenience and contrivance, he allows the story to
unfold meticulously and purposefully.
Kazan’s films were often concerned
with touchy social issues of their time. Wild River wasn’t the first
time Kazan tackled inequalities for African Americans (that would be Pinky),
but the Depression-era setting certainly highlights the lunacy of continuing
prejudice in America. Kazan holds no punches and indicts Southern culture (including
the police force), the idea of progress for the sake of progress, the American
dream, and the archaic ideas of segregation and inequality. Ella Garth runs a
large farm predominantly with the help of African American farm hands that she
pays, provides shelter for, and becomes a sort of mother to. Chuck decides that
that is simply not enough. He endeavors to pay the African American men $5 a
day. It’s no mistake that the rate happens to be the same that the white men in
town receive. This causes a hullabaloo which results in a stand off that is
most certainly a precursor to Sam Peckinpah’s nightmarish hell in Straw Dogs.
Kazan is
far too complicated as a filmmaker to set up what seems to be inevitable; the
progressive new comer in town proves that his new ideas and technologies are
the obvious way to advance society and the locals enact violence to hold onto
their way of life tooth and nail. The film certainly seems as if that is the
direction we are headed, but Kazan gives both Chuck and Ella a fair shake at
presenting their side. In Kazan’s world, they are both right. The film makes no
attempts at an easy out. We are not given a comfortable conclusion that awards
the characters (and audience) for wading through this complicated world of
grey. Instead, the film attempts to best represent the way the world actually
works. A resolution must be met, but it most certainly won’t be the one that
everyone hoped for.
Wild
River was also the last film on which Montgomery Clift seemed to maintain a
certain level of self-control. He was on his way down battling an addiction to
pills and alcohol. This addiction following a brutal car crash, resulting in an
intensive rebuild of the actor’s face. His next endeavor was John Huston’s The
Misfits with Clark Gable and Marilyn Monroe. Monroe (battling many
addictions of her own) notoriously mentioned on set that Clift was the only
person in worse shape than her. Perhaps this explains some of the undeniable
desperation we get in Clift’s eyes and body language. If you ask this reviewer,
he never turned in a bad performance (especially excelling in Hitchcock’s I
Confess), but Wild River remains his most fascinating and quite
possibly best. Clift’s famous method acting never seemed so raw and exposed as
in Wild River. Considering Clift only lasted six years after Wild
River was made, I think it is safe to consider this performance as a straw
headed for the camel’s back: a story so firmly rooted in the grey area; a story
that begins with a man so certain of what he believes and fights for, but
ultimately ending in confusion, frustration and bitter acceptance. You can find
all of these complications increasingly present in Clift’s eyes throughout the
film.
At its core, Wild River remains a
fierce deconstruction of the American dream - the fierce individualism versus
the “progress” of the future. Is it all for the greater good or is the future
simply an unstoppable train? Kazan and his incredible team wrestle with these
ideals with a melancholic urgency that pulls the viewer in and forces us to
think. Wild River places a messy portrait of America right in our laps
and refuses to be ignored. But, as with most Kazan films, it’s a quiet
desperation cursed with the knowledge of the past and the dread of the future.
Kazan hopes with all of his heart that things will change, but remains
skeptical until proven otherwise.
“If Wild River is a
clear-eyed examination of the difficulty in balancing the greater good with
individual rights, it's also a swan song to a disappearing way of life.” -
Casey Broadwater
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