Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 20-February-11
Spoiler Rating: High

Cimarron (1931)

At first glance the westward-expansion epic Cimarron appears to have aged poorly. The leading man, Richard Dix, shows lingering effects of the silent era with heavy makeup and grandiose gestures which take some getting used to. He plays an adventurer by the unlikely name of Yancey Cravat (invented by Edna Ferber, on whose novel the film is based) who returns to his wife Sabra (Irene Dunne) after exploring "Cimarron territory," an area wrested from the natives in the future state of Oklahoma. His in-laws, with their antebellum gentility intact, keep a comically servile black boy and object to Yancey's longing for savage lands. But, being a dutiful wife and in love with her husband, Sabra takes her young son and joins him on the trail.

Once they arrive in their new home, Cimarron opens into a story that feels both classic and unique. Dix's hammy style suits his character, who proves to be a fascinating study and an ideal representative of the pioneer spirit. The Cravats settle in a town that went from empty prairie to a population of 10,000 in six weeks. It's crying out for a leader, so Yancey is in his element. He founds a newspaper, announces his intention to run the roughnecks out of town, and accepts his neighbors' invitation to serve as their Sunday preacher. In all pursuits he demonstrates his belief in the universal right to a fair deal. He opens his congregation to people of all faiths, including the town's lonely, put-upon Jew, and exempts the Native Americans when he passes the hat since white men have already stolen their land. After shooting a ruffian who threatens him during his sermon, he calmly adds another notch to his gun while defending a local prostitute to his wife, who is much less tolerant than he.

This prostitute becomes a point of contention between them, but not in the usual way. After a few years of building up the town and siring a second child, Yancey's insatiable need to push boundaries gets the better of him and he abandons his family for newly opened land. During his five-year absence Sabra manages the paper and tries her own hand at civilizing the community. Her target is the prostitute, but on the very day a morality trial is to take place, Yancey reappears and insists on serving as the fallen woman's counsel. Once again his sense of justice emerges in a winning speech (which, by its very necessity, reminds one how much it used to suck to be female). Sabra is furious, yet her love allows her to forgive him and learn from his example. His influence sees her through the rest of her life, most of which is spent alone because Yancey cannot stop seeking new frontiers. Cars replace horses, buildings soar higher, her children grow up and have children of their own, and Sabra blazes her own trail as a congresswoman. The bittersweet ending is framed around her accomplishments, but it really celebrates Yancey, who was an inadequate husband but exactly the kind of person to shape a nation.

Copyright © 2011 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.