Shane (George Stevens, 1953)
This was nice. A little heavy on the thematics, but there's a sweet chemistry between all the players, and there's something true and lovely about little Joey's devotion to Shane. With the film's reputation, I was looking hard for the subtexts I thought I might find, but it seems pretty, erm, straight. There is the ambivalence - just a little - about the new wave of settlers coming in, and the loss of the old (old?) West to groupthink and wussy pig and potato farmers, but not too much to trouble the viewer. The nuclear family remains sacrosanct and intact. The dirty jobs are left to lone men with no ties, but men like Shane seem to have this yearning to belong. If only their nature and duty and sacrifice didn't get in the way. At least his gorgeous blonde coif remained intact, and Stevens was gentleman enough not to show the upturned bucket Ladd might have used to get onto those bloody big horses...
#3 all-time according to the AFI's polling, which seems a bit much. Then again, I am an urban effete.