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The Comancheros: 50th Anniversary Limited Edition Digibook
[Blu-ray]
Blu-ray ALL - America - Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment Review written by and copyright: Ethan Stevenson (30th July 2011). |
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The Film
 The iconic http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne stars in legendary director Michael Curtiz’s production of “The Comancheros”, adapted from Paul Wellman’s book of the same. Shot on location in the Utah and framed in expansive CinemaScope, the sprawling and epic adventure mates the magnetism of a Wayne Western with the grandiose showmanship of one of classic Hollywood’s most notable names. Just, not always successfully. In the prologue, Paul Regret (Stuart Whitman), a Louisianan gentleman, accidentally kills the son of an influential judge in a pistol duel he flees the state. When we next see him, Regret is hiding from the law in the safe confines of the briefly independent Republic of Texas, just out of reach of Louisiana law. The debonair card shark and conman catches the eye of a woman named Pilar (Ina Balin), and they hit it off. But by dawn of the next day, the curmudgeony Capt. Jake Cutter (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne) of the mighty Texas Rangers has cornered Monsieur Regret on a riverboat and arrests him, noting that relations between the Republic and the States are much better than most people – mainly, filthy criminals – assume. The year is 1841 and many Texans are championing a petition for Statehood, while lawmakers from both sides of the border are already in close cooperation, assisting each other with the extradition of their most wanted fugitives. What the viewer assumes will be a typical story of conflicting personalities traveling cross the frontier – with Cutter bringing his captive back to Louisiana to be hanged – is quickly turned on end. Regret escapes custody, wishing to find his lost love, and instead of pursuing his charge, Cutter goes off on another mission, hoping to head off a shipment of rifles and ammo to the famed Comancheros (a band of outlaws who maintain a close relationship with the Comanche Indians). The two men meet again by chance at a game of cards, where Cutter must befriend Crow (Lee Marvin) so he can gain access to the elusive Comancheros and their hideout. When it all goes wrong, Regret and Cutter are forced to team up and work their way into the good graces of the outlaws, while narrowly escaping attacks from bloodthirsty Comanche warriors and the dangers of the frontier. (The film makes some unsavory comments about the differences between “tame” Indians and wild ones, and features a tasteless scene where a tamed chief apishly mimes to Cutter, asking for alcohol and then precedes to fall of his horse as if completely boozed up. It was the sixties; Hollywood was as racist as everyone else.) Together, http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne and Michael Curtiz have nearly 350 screen credits in the field that they’re most well known. Wayne’s mighty 171 listings as an actor are only faintly eclipsed by Curtiz’s 173 as director. Those numbers are inflated of course; they include all of Wayne’s bit parts and the silent Hungarian two-reelers and other sorts of films (dating back to 1912) that Curtiz made in Europe before moving to Hollywood. Regardless of the technicalities, the point remains; both men made a lot of movies… so many that their names are basically synonymous with motion pictures. What’s more remarkable though is not that Wayne and Curtiz made dozens, upon dozens, upon dozens of films in their respective lifetimes, but that so many of those films are extraordinary examples of outstanding cinema. When he wasn’t, figuratively, punching communism in the face and, literally, dodging a KGB assassination squad hand picked by Joseph Stalin himself, http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne was one of America’s most beloved movie stars. His body of work – focusing strictly on “The Duke’s” Westerns – includes such genre classics as “Stagecoach” (1939), “Rio Bravo” (1959), “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” (1962), “True Grit” (1969), and John Ford’s “The Searchers” (1956), which the AFI once called the greatest Western of all time (side note: family legend has it that I’m named after Wayne’s character, Ethan Edwards, from that last one). Curtiz’s eclectic oeuvre is equally impressive, with titles like “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (1938), “Mildred Pierce” (1945), “White Christmas” (1954), and, of course, the one and only “Casablanca” (1942) for which he won the Best Director Oscar. It’s curious then that the movie Wayne and Curtiz would make together, “The Comancheros”, is neither man’s best work. Then again… perhaps not. Duke was more than at home in the films leading role, treading familiar ground as a hardened Texas Ranger named “Big Jake” Cutter. But, in the early sixties Wayne was in a state of transition, falling into his more relaxed, lighthearted persona that became the actor’s staple for the rest of his career, and he hadn’t quite perfected it yet while shooting “The Comancheros”. As a result, sometimes serious, but other times in pure slapstick comedy mode, Wayne’s Cutter isn’t the most consistent character he ever played. (His best scenes in “The Comancheros” are those with his own children, where he seems to find a natural balance; son Pat Wayne plays a naive young Ranger, while daughter Aissa Wayne plays a young girl who melts Cutter’s cold exterior). And Curtiz, although a tried-n-true veteran of studio dramas and quite possibly the greatest director-for-hire there ever was, had little idea of how to make a Western. His sweeping camera and stately, operatic manner is often entirely at odds with the scenery and lightweight screenplay by James Edward Grant and Clair Huffaker. Curtiz was also in poor health by the time filming began; he left the production about half way through when his cancer-stricken body began to fail him, placing the directorial reins in the hands of Wayne. The two men had decidedly different directing styles, and while both were undoubtedly competent by themselves, their visions don’t really mesh together too well (or, at least, not as well as you’d hope.) Plot threads started by Curtiz – including a romantic subplot between Regret and the wealthy young woman from the riverboat – get dropped in favor of action. Even when Pilar is brought back for the third-act reveal, she still gets shoved aside for the climax – a chase sequence involving a dozen horseback baddies and a wagon. Had Curtiz finished the film I’m sure “The Comancheros” would have been far more interesting for its unique, genre-bending qualities; and had Wayne just directed the whole thing, it would have been equally good, if more typical in tone and Western style. But neither of those things happened, and the film suffers as a result. That’s not to say “The Comancheros” is terrible – far from it. Elmer Bernstein’s score is excellent, and it matches perfectly with the breathtaking widescreen cinematography by William H. Clothier. Wayne has excellent chemistry with Whitman, and the constant back and forth between Cutter and Regret is the stuff buddy-comedies are made of. And while it’s not quite the brilliant end of a master director’s career, “The Comancheros” is still a fine entry into the Western genre, with an appropriately adventurous spirit and memorable characters (Lee Marvin’s Crow, a colorful villain with large scar atop his half-scalped head, is on screen for no more than five minutes but he steals the show). There’s a needed middle ground between Wayne’s comedy and Curtiz’s more seriousness that the film never quite finds, leaving the production unbalanced, fragmented and inconsistent. The script is a patchwork of different ideas, expressed on screen in little vignettes. But, flaws and all, the film mostly works even through it shouldn’t. And I seriously doubt anyone would dare call “The Comancheros” boring. It’s great entertainment, even if it isn’t high art. Released in celebration of the film’s 50th anniversary, Fox has delivered a splendid Blu-ray package. Featuring remastered picture, lossless sound, over an hour of all-new supplements, and a 24-page digibook full of photos and production details, Michael Curtiz’s “The Comancheros” is recommended.
Video
I’m never really all that surprised when a disc from Fox sports the sort of outstanding transfer that “The Comancheros” does, although, I am always extremely happy when they do. Sure, they’re frustratingly hit-and-miss when it comes to the MGM catalog (for which they serve as distributor and usually use whatever HD master materials are on hand), but if an older film actually comes out of the 20th Century Fox vaults, I’ve just come to expect a marvelous restoration or remaster. Their celebratory “Anniversary Edition” packages – especially in the last couple of years – have been nothing short of amazing, and this 50th Anniversary digibook of “The Comancheros” is no different. The image is satisfyingly detailed with noticeable fine texture in rocks, make-up effects and clothing. The transfer offers naturally film-like, well-rendered grain. And the 35mm source looks as clean as the day it was released to theaters, with not a speck or fleck to be found. Sourced from a spotless restoration, the superbly lensed CinemaScope production (2.35:1 widescreen aspect ratio preserved) shot by cinematographer William H. Clothier, and bathed in appropriately sun-drenched colors, is a panoramic delight. And the majestic locations of Moab, Utah are framed perfectly in the epic proportions of the widescreen format. Shot in 1961 – towards the end of the CinemaScope lifecycle – most of the anamorphic flaws present in earlier ‘Scope pictures (like “An Affair to Remember” (1957)) had been remedied. With the better lenses in use by the sixties, the dreaded “mumps” were no longer an issue and directors could finally start composing without the worry of having to compensate for the distracting distortions inherent to the earliest anamorphic lenses. The “resolution” and grain-intensity of the stocks typically mated with CinemaScope greatly improved too, resulting in sharper and more consistent images. A few moments of mild (and frankly expected) softness and a handful of odd optical fades and wipes aside, the 1080p 24/fps high definition AVC MPEG-4 encoded presentation @ 36 Mbps is simply stunning. The disc is untouched by noise reduction and edge enhancement, and free of encoding faults like artifacts, moiré and noise. The black level is more than pleasing, save for a few scenes with dated day-for-night shots and a couple of other moments, which lean more towards blue than black. Contrast is dynamic, if ever so slightly hot with occasionally blooming whites. Nicely saturated, the Blu-ray supports the original photography with admirable color reproduction of the famed DeLuxe process – known for its natural richness and slightly warm skintones. This Blu-ray is undoubtedly the best presentation of the film ever on home video, and probably only matched by the opening day screenings five decades ago.
Audio
Like many ‘Scope films “The Comancheros” was originally released with 4-track surround in the appropriately equipped theaters. Fox has included that legacy mix via English Dolby Digital 4.0 surround, but it’s the default English DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track (48kHz/24-bit) that demands the attention. In direct comparison, the lossless mix is brighter and offers better clarity, while expanding the soundscape even further into the surrounds – if still keeping the film mostly focused to the front. Dialogue is intelligible, even while pounding horse hooves and gunfire dominate the mix. The action generally has that slightly brittle agedness, where highs aren’t quite as sturdy and LFE is restrained to the point of near absence, but both qualities are expected for a film of the vintage. Elmer Bernstein’s memorable score, perhaps even catchier than his famous work on John Sturges’ “The Magnificent Seven” (1960) from the year before, is the clear highlight, bringing a vigor and weightiness that easily supplants the sometimes-frail underpinnings of the fifty-year-old audio. All things considered, this is a fine mix that impresses mostly with the quality of its full-bodied music. Mono dubs in French and Spanish Dolby Digital 2.0, and optional subtitles in English, French and Spanish are also included.
Extras
20th Century Fox has included a number of all new supplements for their 50th Anniversary re-issue of “The Comancheros”. The entire release exudes high-class treatment – perhaps better treatment than the film deserves – starting with the deluxe digibook packaging, complete with twenty-four pages of bios, rare photos from the Fox archives, and an unattributed essay on Wayne’s legacy. Like most Fox ‘books this is beautifully crafted and informative. Two mini-posters for “The Comancheros” are also included. The disc is authored with optional bookmarks and the resume playback function. With the exception of a vintage Movietone newsreel and theatrical trailer nearly every special feature is exclusive to Blu-ray (and encoded in gorgeous HD too), including a featurette, documentary, comic book image gallery, and an audio interview, all of which will delight Wayne/western aficionados. The audio commentary isn’t an exclusive per se, having first appeared on the 30th Anniversary Laserdisc, but it was absent from the only DVD release and hasn’t seen home video in over two decades. The audio commentary is an odd one. Enlightening, yes; but scattershot too, it’s very typical of old Laser commentaries. The track is an assemblage of archival interviews with Stuart Whitman, Nehemiah Persoff, Michael Ansara and Pat Wayne. Their comments aren’t scene-specific; their recollections range from working on the film – characters, remembrances of their career, and general production details – to their own careers, and the iconic Wayne and his life on and off set (son Pat does most of the talking in this area). The discussions are generally insightful but the seemingly random placement of commentary – rarely, if ever, relating to what’s on screen – and the wildly uneven delivery make this a sometimes frustrating listen. Looking like something straight off the History Channel, “The Comancheros and the Battle for the American Southwest” (1080p, 24 minutes 13 seconds) is an interesting, if too brief, featurette. A panel of historians discusses the clashing of cultures and near 40-year war between the native Comanche and the white-man moving westward, looking for his Manifest Destiny. The piece provides a bit of historical background to the larger conflict in the film and might be best viewed first because it sets the stage, detailing the unfamiliar, largely alien world that was the frontier. “The Duke at Fox” (1080p, 40 minutes 28 seconds) is a comprehensive documentary on http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne’s career at the studio that made him a household name (and gave him the Wayne moniker). Wayne, born Marion Morrison, made A LOT of movies – many of them, produced at other studios, not mentioned here. It’s fitting that Duke would get a documentary about his rocky relationship with 20th Century Fox, as it’s the studio under which he had first starring role, way back at the beginning of sound-cinema, in William Fox’s production of “The Big Trail” (1930) directed by Raoul Walsh, notable for being one of the only movies to ever be shot in the experimental 70mm widescreen process known as Fox Grandeur. The piece also focuses on Wayne’s collaboration with another iconic Hollywood figure, master director John Ford. Their work together properly began with “Stagecoach” (1939), often considered the Western that legitimized the genre, although Ford also gave Duke a few of his earliest screen roles (mostly, bit parts) while at Fox. Wayne’s conflict with studio head Darryl F. Zanuck, his bankruptcy, notable clash with the bullheaded-but-brilliant John Huston during the production of “The Barbarian and the Geisha” (1958), Wayne’s infamous “The Alamo” (1960) – a mammoth film that he directed, produced and starred in – and the career redefining comedy-western “North to Alaska” (1960) all lead up to a discussion of “The Comancheros”. The last minutes of the documentary mention the staggering $250,000 paycheck he received for his cameo-ish role in “The Longest Day” (1962) and his final film at Fox, “The Undefeated” (1969). This is a terrific documentary and you’ll come away appreciating Wayne even more after viewing it. A digital reproduction of a vintage comic book version “The Comancheros” (1080p, 95 images) is presented in an interactive image gallery. As explained in the introduction (1080p, 38 seconds), this comic book – commissioned by Fox and used to promote the film – was completed and released during production, and features a different ending than the one seen in the final cut. An audio interview (12 minutes 7 seconds) with co-star of “The Comancheros” Stuart Whitman is also included. The actor reminisces about his boxing, military and film careers, and talks about his work with http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne. The theatrical trailer (2.40:1 anamorphic 480p, 2 minutes 47 seconds) is a dated slice of cheese, but welcomed because of their cheesiness. I love the constant hail of text saying things like “NEW!” and “EXCITING!” Another trailer (2.40:1 anamorphic 480p, 2 minutes 47 seconds) for the film, but in Spanish, is also included. Finally, an old “Fox Movietone News” newsreel (1.37:1 480p, 52 seconds) shows Claude King and Tillman Franks at a ceremony receiving an award for their work on “The Comancheros”.
Packaging
“The Comancheros” rides onto Blu-ray in a 50th Anniversary Limited Edition digibook package. The deluxe 24-page booklet includes a plot synopsis, cast and crew bios, rare production images, and an essay titled “The Duke’s Legacies”. Two mini-poster reproductions are also included. The dual layer BD-50 slides into a sleeve in the back of the booklet; despite logos stating otherwise “The Comancheros” is region free.
Overall
“The Comancheros” is neither http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000078/John Wayne nor Michael Curtiz in their finest form. Wayne made better – if also, much worse – Westerns in his career. And Curtiz was behind the camera for but half of the scenes of his final film, before succumbing to his illness. The script is fragmented, with a meandering tone and patchwork plotting. Some of the Native American stereotypes are eye-rollingly racist. And yet, I’ll be damned: despite its production troubles and minor faults, “The Comancheros” is still an entertaining, sometimes funny, rousing adventure. Wayne and Whitman have great chemistry, and neither of them seems to be taking anything too seriously. I’m certain that fans of Wayne and Westerns will find the film to be a worthy watch. And Fox’s Blu-ray upgrade of the 50-year-old film is even easier to recommend, with an impressive 1080p remaster of the CinemaScope source, competent lossless audio, and a generous assortment of all-new extras.
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