Cimarron: Anthony Mann

It always bothered me that the original Cimarron by Wesley Ruggles is virtually unknown to most moviegoers.  After all, it was the third film to ever win the Academy Award for Best Picture and the first of only three Westerns to do so.  So I approached Anthony Mann's 1960 remake very cautiously, afraid that it would spoil the legacy of a film that I treasure.  Much to my surprise, not only did Mann's film do justice to the original, it may very well have surpassed it.  The film is quite simply epic in both scale and emotion.  At its center is Yancy and Sabra Cravat, a couple who participate in the 1893 Oklahoma Land Rush.  As they set up their homestead, it becomes more and more apparent that Yancy is not meant for the quiet life.  He is the embodiment of American wanderlust, of the national spirit of adventure and exploration.  Unfortunately, that spirit is so powerful that it leads to him abandoning his family several times to explore the rest of the continent and engage in every major event in American history for decades.  It tears Sabra apart: she loves him, but she can't make herself forgive him for his trespasses.  In a sense, the film is a metaphor for America's westward expansion: it was brash, bold, daring, foolish, and uncaring about who it hurt.  Of great note is the film's treatment of minorities, particularly of Native Americans.  The original film, while progressive for its day in many ways, still contains the trademark Hollywood racism of the late 20s, early 30s.  But despite its more sensitive treatment, the film is still merciless in its depiction of how American settlers deceived and cheated the Native Americans.  But in hindsight, the film's racial politics are an afterthought.  What's truly important is that Cimarron is a fantastic film of love, loss, discovery, and courage.

9/10