The American Myth: Eisenhower’s America, when our lives had three acts.

The Lusty Men (1952, Nicholas Ray) ****
“There never was a bronco that couldn't be rode, there was never a cowboy that couldn't be throwed. Guys like me last forever.”

So says Robert Mitchum as “retired” rodeo rider Jeff McCloud (due to an injured leg and heart condition), in this early Nicholas Ray picture about men trying to prove their masculinity by riding in rodeos. Arthur Kennedy (who made a remarkably good cowboy) plays a man fascinated by the rodeo and hopes to use it as a shortcut to earn the money to buy a ranch with his wife played by Susan Hayward in the type of role that made her the model of strong female characters in the 1950’s. An American dream rodeo-style.

I first became aware of this movie reading The Devil Thumbs A Ride by Barry Gilford, a wonderful book about movies that in its description provides a “… perfect companion for the tour of the mood, ominous, violent underbelly of American movie making.” Who could ask for anything more? Gifford’s interest in The Lusty Men comes from his appreciation of Nicholas Ray and the films he made. This alone made it a must see for me and I finally caught up with it on TCM a short while ago.

Before he made Rebel Without A Cause (1955) and after he made In A Lonely Place (with Bogart, 1950) and under contract to RKO, Nick Ray made this remarkable present day western about rodeo cowboys. Top billed was RKO studio player Robert Mitchum as Jeff McCloud. Mitchum was coming into his stardom after the success of the noir-ish Macao previously (not to mention a number of successful loan-outs to other studios).

Hollywood legend has it that Mitchum got director Josef von Sternberg fired off Macao as the two men constantly clashed and Nicholas Ray was brought in to finish the picture. Perhaps that’s how Ray got attached to The Lusty Men.

In The Lusty Men Mitchum gives one of his finest and most nuanced performances. He is absolutely effortless as he alternates charisma with menace as the trainer and mentor with that of enabler and rival. But this is the stuff of Nick Ray’s cinema, variegated characters constantly changing and surprising the audience.

Dennis Hopper said of Ray, “… (he) painted on a smokescreen canvass the lonely, restless and haunted outsiders of life. Nick Ray followed the beautiful losers against the society that dismissed them.” Apparently in the same way that Hollywood ultimately dismissed him.

But Mitchum as the enabler is the catalyst and not the driving force of the story for the film’s exposition where a man bent on pursuing his narcissistic fantasy of rodeo fame and riches. And it’s that man, in the form of Arthur Kennedy who steals the show.

David Thompson wrote of Arthur Kennedy, “is one of the subtlest American supporting actors, never more so than when revealing the malice or weakness in an ostensibly friendly man.” Kennedy already won two (of five) Oscar nominations (Champion 1949 and Bright Victory 1951) before taking the role of Wes Merritt.

I’ll never forget reading that toward the end of his life he was located living on a houseboat in Arkansas when he was needed to record some dialog for the restoration of Lawrence of Arabia.

Arthur Kennedy was a marvelous actor, who excelled in westerns. Of particular note are the Anthony Mann westerns Bend of the River and The Man from Laramie and Fritz Lang’s Rancho Notorious.

As Wes Merritt, Kennedy effortlessly morphs from a regular cowhand with a dream of owning his own place to a maniacal man in a race to fame and riches and the fast life of a rodeo star. Had the film been allowed to have a “true” ending, Kennedy may have made off with another Oscar nod for his transformational performance.

It’s clear why Susan Hayward was such a big box office draw in the 1950’s. She brilliantly plays Wes Merritt’s dutiful wife, but not in ‘50’s stereotype. Hayward plays Louise Merritt as a woman of character, able to navigate through any situation with grace and determination. She is a woman who knows what she wants and how to keep it and what she wants is her man.

A full quartet of stars receive name of above the title status. Arthur Hunnicutt completes the group playing a freakishly fascinating rodeo clown Booker Davis – eerily like a ghost of things to come for anyone who hangs on long enough in rodeo riding.

As a bonus we get Jimmie Dodd in one of this most developed film roles – you’ll remember Jimmie from “The Mickey Mouse Club” with his famous line closing each show, “Why? Because we like you!” And he favors us with a tune or two.

Unfortunately The Lusty Men was a studio film, albeit from RKO (a studio owned by Howard Hughes, an ardent champion of Eisenhower’s America). In a reach for old time movie sentimentality what Nick Ray had so carefully weaved into a tale of constantly changing character’s desires.

I can’t believe that a film with Nick Ray in control would ever have had such a pat and sentimental ending after having crafted such an intricate and nuanced tale of loyalty and desire. But even with an ending that rings false, the movie is a minor masterpiece of character development and storytelling, brilliantly photographed.

Ray wrote his own epitaph and assessment when talking about his films to an adoring critic, “You like these films, but you can't imagine how often they represent only fifty percent of what I wanted to do. You have no idea how I had to fight to achieve even that fifty percent.” Ray felt he made no really good movies.

The Lusty Men is nowhere near ‘half bad’; it’s truly a minor masterpiece like many of Ray’s films. I haven't come across one yet that wasn’t worth watching.