Ride in the Whirlwind (1966): the people demand more Harry Dean Stanton!
Ride in the Whirlwind // dir. Monte Hellman // United States
ooh buddy. Continuing on with my 1966 series, I decided to check out this western (there is another 1966 western that lives inside my brain that will be subject to an extensive post at some point: Duel at Diablo).
I was not expecting
a) to be truly moved by it
b) to be actually impressed by my nemesis Jack Nicholson
c) to find my fall 2020 fashion inspo!
Yet, here we are and 2020 gives me one more shocker. Let’s start with point c.
Harry Dean Stanton’s look, minus the guns it must be said, are absolute goals: scuffed boots, striped trousers, white button up, slouchy vest, jaunty bandana on the neck, and—crucially—eyepatch! (the hat may be a step too far for me to pull off sadly)
Everyone looks cool in an eyepatch: Bret from Flight of the Conchords, Snake Plissken, Rosamund Pike in that biopic I have in my watchlist because Rosamund Pike has an eyepatch in it…
That is the kind of low upkeep/high impact look I am in the mood for this season. Harry Dean, we STANton! (I’d show myself out, but this is my blog. Sorry.)
For real, I love Harry Dean Stanton and the chaotic energy he brings to every piece. I love him in the same way I love the prince of the darting eyes and villainous 1960s tv guest spots—Bruce Dern. <3
Watching HDS brought back a fun memory of visiting the Velveteria in LA’s Chinatown last year with a pal. An entire “museum” dedicated to velvet paintings, and Harry Dean Stanton had his own little corner.
I would also like to give a style shout-out to Millie Perkins’ relatable eyebrows.
And, now for a short excursion to point B, I was genuinely fine with Jack Nicholson in this film he wrote and produced as well as starred in. That was entirely unexpected from me, and honestly, maybe he could have quit here while he was ahead? No need to disturb a generation with the injustice of Something’s Gotta Give (2003).
In this film, his Wes had little to say, but was still the character most invested in having a life and being human.
^a quiet moment of all-too-human grief that hit perfectly
Ride in the Whirlwind has a spare, austere, empty quality that works a charm at taking the absolute air out of western cowboy mythic cinema. It very nearly plays as a Twilight Zone-esque existential horror. Perhaps it is too slow, too inactive to get there, but it is certainly concerned with the existential.
The western cowboy myth relies on the denial of genocide. The refashioning of conquest as a noble fight. Destruction as romantic adventure.
Westerns are the American fairy tales: they have form, convention, and style that can reach the height of cinematic aesthetic pleasure. Westerns make up some of the most aesthetically satisfying films. The style can be so strong it holds back any questions about truth and reality.
Time and existence is narrowed to right and wrong / good and evil, and there is a purpose for each person in the myth (even if that purpose is just to die as third henchman bank robber).
What Ride in the Whirlwind does is pull us out of that that systematic and set convention, and ask the question, “What if there is no point?”
I was struck by how much pointless death there was in this film, and it’s honestly not a high body count western. Nor, are we in basically any way given reason to empathize or care about most of the characters who die. But the feeling of futility just hangs there the entire runtime.
The truth of this culture and society built on genocide is corrupted and listless humans.
Everyone in the film is going through the motions of life. Sure, everyone fights to survive and outlive their opponents, but it seems a fight just to continue existing—there is no actual desire or spark or purpose.
Wes and his two companions are mistaken as thieves and pursued, because of a citizens justice vigilante gang (chilling!!!)that only exists to find and kill methodically all who have wronged “society.” The actual thieves are thieves because it is how they exist and survive in society. There’s no grand plan here.
The settler cabin Wes and Vern (Cameron Mitchell) take refuge in is occupied by a man, a woman, and their teen daughter. None of them have a single spark of life between them. The man hacks endlessly away at a stump in the yard, stopping only when his daughter comes out to prepare his wash basin and call him into the meal his wife has prepared. All three living in endless patterns of motions.
Wes asks Abigail her age, and her response is devoid of anything.
They are just three more ghosts living in a world with no value for humans, or anything else. Humanity was lost when a world was built on active genocide and bloodshed and destruction, and then the denial—first that it was wrong, and then that it happened.
The one incongruous note in this all is Wes. He doesn’t have purpose or direction, but he is stubbornly connected to the tangible. He complains about being tired, he complains about blisters, he complains about being weak, he complains about being hungry, he complains about being bored, and he complains about being sad. It gets almost annoying, and the other characters react in as much bewilderment as they can muster in their apathy. Why does Wes care about blisters on his feet? Why does it matter?
Wes’ restlessness holed up in the cabin for mere hours is fascinating, and honestly all-too-familiar to those of us who have been primarily confined to our homes for months and months now.
I have been unemployed for a couple of months now, and Wes’ unease about inactivity hits real well. I am 26, and I had previously been actively employed since I was 13 years old. In our society, production is the point. And, being removed from productivity removes a sense of purpose—removes my pattern of motions.
To actually and fully break with the motions is to claim dignity and humanity and community. People over product. To acknowledge and remove the evil, corrupted foundations of society and radically build new ways. I hope we get there.
I also wanted to note for this film, that a Black man is lynched (alongside a white man), and that is a moment of historically, violent imagery that is included here somewhat perfunctorily in the same fashion as the rest of the inhumane, listless violence. The lynching has much higher levels of white supremacist/racist contexts that are not explored in this film at all (except through whatever the viewer brings to it). There should be purpose to including such a scene of particular violence, and I do not think this film hit that mark at all.
-Meg
Harry Dean Stanton and Rupert Crosse love to stay safe wearing their masks in public! <3