Character development lies at the heart of the film Stagecoach, lifting it above other westerns of its time and making it as meaningful today as it was in 1939. Part of John Ford and Dudley Nichols’s artistry for Stagecoach is their “consciously ironic play with their chosen stereotypes,” says Slotkin in his book Gunfighter Nation (1998, p. 714).
John Wayne as the Good-Bad Outlaw
Two characters who most capture the conscious irony are the Ringo Kid (John Wayne) and Dallas (see "Claire Trevor as Dallas"). They sit center stage of this morality play, challenging conventional notions of good and bad, noble and ignoble. It is they who turn out to be the most noble of all and their growing attachment which gives heart to the story.
John Wayne’s portrayal of Ringo brings warmth and strength to the character and creates, under Ford’s direction, a personae that took Wayne to stardom. As a seasoned stagehand and bit-part veteran of 77 movies, Wayne’s breakthrough role is astonishing, his entrance one of the most distinctive in film. The slightly out-of-focus tracking shot ending in a wide-eyed close-up of John Wayne is a delightful “hero shot,” establishing boyish charm while emphasizing that this is a man to be contended with.
Ringo Kid as Study in Contrasts
Viewers first hear of Ringo Kid as the marshal (George Bancroft) shoves a wanted poster at stagecoach driver Buck (Andy Devine), explaining the shotgun rider for the stage is out with a posse. In a reply that immediately undercuts Ringo’s desperado status, Buck proclaims “Well, good for him!” The film challenges and re-challenges the image of Ringo, forcing one to reconsider both Ringo and the sad state of respectable society.
Ringo did break “out of the pen” to go gunning for Luke Plummer (Tom Tyler) and his brothers, but one learns he was an innocent 16-year-old framed for a murder he didn’t commit soon after Ringo’s father and brother were murdered by the Plummers. His initial “murderous revenge” image transforms into a desire for justice and a need to uphold family honor. Such motivation also allowed this plot twist to get by the censors in the Breen office.
Ringo as Ironic Example of Peacemaking, Chivalry
Ironically, Ringo often emerges as the peacemaker in the group. Just after he climbs aboard the stagecoach, Gatewood offers insult (“So you’re the notorious Ringo Kid.”), which Ringo deftly inverts to a factual inquiry (“My friends just call me Ringo. Nickname l had as a kid. Right name's Henry.”) A moment later, he cheerfully intervenes when Hatfield takes exception to comments from Doc Boone (“Sit down, mister. Doc don’t mean no harm.”). His smoothing over of Hatfield’s refusal to let Dallas drink from the silver cup offered to Lucy (“No silver cups today”) shows a sweetness of spirit that draws others to him.
Like Hatfield, Ringo exemplifies chivalry, but an egalitarian chivalry, suggests Hutson (2002). To Ringo, Dallas is as entitled to courtesy and respect as Lucy is. His innocence regarding Dallas endears him to her early on when he mistakes the rudeness of their fellow travelers as directed at him rather than her: “Well, I guess you can’t break out of prison and into society in the same week.”
His enjoyment of her delight with Lucy’s newborn, his empathy on hearing of her family’s death at Superstition Mountain, and his subsequent marriage proposal shows him able to see Dallas as the loving, loveable person she really is. His statement to Curley and Buck that “this is no town for a girl like her” and his reassurance to Dallas (“We ain’t never gonna say goodbye”) confirms his earnestness.
John Wayne as the Good-Bad Outlaw
Two characters who most capture the conscious irony are the Ringo Kid (John Wayne) and Dallas (see "Claire Trevor as Dallas"). They sit center stage of this morality play, challenging conventional notions of good and bad, noble and ignoble. It is they who turn out to be the most noble of all and their growing attachment which gives heart to the story.
John Wayne’s portrayal of Ringo brings warmth and strength to the character and creates, under Ford’s direction, a personae that took Wayne to stardom. As a seasoned stagehand and bit-part veteran of 77 movies, Wayne’s breakthrough role is astonishing, his entrance one of the most distinctive in film. The slightly out-of-focus tracking shot ending in a wide-eyed close-up of John Wayne is a delightful “hero shot,” establishing boyish charm while emphasizing that this is a man to be contended with.
Ringo Kid as Study in Contrasts
Viewers first hear of Ringo Kid as the marshal (George Bancroft) shoves a wanted poster at stagecoach driver Buck (Andy Devine), explaining the shotgun rider for the stage is out with a posse. In a reply that immediately undercuts Ringo’s desperado status, Buck proclaims “Well, good for him!” The film challenges and re-challenges the image of Ringo, forcing one to reconsider both Ringo and the sad state of respectable society.
Ringo did break “out of the pen” to go gunning for Luke Plummer (Tom Tyler) and his brothers, but one learns he was an innocent 16-year-old framed for a murder he didn’t commit soon after Ringo’s father and brother were murdered by the Plummers. His initial “murderous revenge” image transforms into a desire for justice and a need to uphold family honor. Such motivation also allowed this plot twist to get by the censors in the Breen office.
Ringo as Ironic Example of Peacemaking, Chivalry
Ironically, Ringo often emerges as the peacemaker in the group. Just after he climbs aboard the stagecoach, Gatewood offers insult (“So you’re the notorious Ringo Kid.”), which Ringo deftly inverts to a factual inquiry (“My friends just call me Ringo. Nickname l had as a kid. Right name's Henry.”) A moment later, he cheerfully intervenes when Hatfield takes exception to comments from Doc Boone (“Sit down, mister. Doc don’t mean no harm.”). His smoothing over of Hatfield’s refusal to let Dallas drink from the silver cup offered to Lucy (“No silver cups today”) shows a sweetness of spirit that draws others to him.
Like Hatfield, Ringo exemplifies chivalry, but an egalitarian chivalry, suggests Hutson (2002). To Ringo, Dallas is as entitled to courtesy and respect as Lucy is. His innocence regarding Dallas endears him to her early on when he mistakes the rudeness of their fellow travelers as directed at him rather than her: “Well, I guess you can’t break out of prison and into society in the same week.”
His enjoyment of her delight with Lucy’s newborn, his empathy on hearing of her family’s death at Superstition Mountain, and his subsequent marriage proposal shows him able to see Dallas as the loving, loveable person she really is. His statement to Curley and Buck that “this is no town for a girl like her” and his reassurance to Dallas (“We ain’t never gonna say goodbye”) confirms his earnestness.
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