Watching this thing again after so many years I was impressed by those of its qualities which never seemed to have survived the 1950s. A loud brassy theme assaults us, announcing that this is an important (not to say major) motion picture. Huge credits in relentlessly white letters with serrated edges, alphabetical lightning bolts, splash across the screen. And the credits are all over with in a minute or two.
What follows is the story of -- nope, not Thunder Bay, Michigan, where James Stewart was to shoot a later film, but a small town in Louisiana. Stewart and Duryea manage to finagle some financing in an attempt to realize Stewart's dream of building the first offshore oil rig. It has to be a dream, an obsession, like Tucker and his car, because the alternative isn't very flattering to Stewart. "Why are you doing this?" asks Joanne Dru, "Will it make you rich?" Stewart: "Not especially." We can permit ourselves a bit of a chuckle at this point, I think. The oil industry is fulfilling its dream and all that. But Stewart tries to explain to Dru why he is so driven. Really he does! And it comes out something like, "Mebbe you don't know how oil is made. You see, there were these dinosaurs...." And he winds up telling her that he's trying to capture a little bit of time, of prehistory, and that money couldn't mean less to him. "What's money, after all? Just a piece of paper crawling with germs." No -- wait. That's a different movie. At any rate, you get the idea.
The whole movie is equally simple minded and equally enjoyable in its politically incorrect recklessness. The Cajun fishermen of the village (all of whom are of Hispanic origin, but what the hell) are hostile to Stewart, Dan Duryea, and the other oil men. There are two Romeo-and-Juliet sorts of romances. Dynamite explosions. A fist fight to the death on a swaying oil rig in the middle of a hurricane.
A lot of people find Stewart unfailingly engaging and I agree that he's a fine actor. Dan Duryea is his libidinous sidekick and supplies most of the wisecracks. He's not an actor with any range. (Imagine him as a respectable shrink.) And he looks slimy, like an evil Bob Fosse, and his voice is piping and always vaguely sinister, but I always enjoy him anyway. Gilbert Roland plays Gilbert Roland, the hairy chested man of action and gallantry who laughs off danger. At one point in the movie he tries to project major guilt and break into a sob, which is a mistake. The rest of the cast provides us with a lot of familiar faces.
It seems that Anthony Mann never directed Jimmy Stewart without turning him into a neurotic, and his obsession here alienates everyone around him. But, not to worry. It all ends happily. The men get their oil, the villagers get their golden shrimp, and Stewart and Duryea get their girls. This is the 1950s. It ought to be in a time capsule.
What follows is the story of -- nope, not Thunder Bay, Michigan, where James Stewart was to shoot a later film, but a small town in Louisiana. Stewart and Duryea manage to finagle some financing in an attempt to realize Stewart's dream of building the first offshore oil rig. It has to be a dream, an obsession, like Tucker and his car, because the alternative isn't very flattering to Stewart. "Why are you doing this?" asks Joanne Dru, "Will it make you rich?" Stewart: "Not especially." We can permit ourselves a bit of a chuckle at this point, I think. The oil industry is fulfilling its dream and all that. But Stewart tries to explain to Dru why he is so driven. Really he does! And it comes out something like, "Mebbe you don't know how oil is made. You see, there were these dinosaurs...." And he winds up telling her that he's trying to capture a little bit of time, of prehistory, and that money couldn't mean less to him. "What's money, after all? Just a piece of paper crawling with germs." No -- wait. That's a different movie. At any rate, you get the idea.
The whole movie is equally simple minded and equally enjoyable in its politically incorrect recklessness. The Cajun fishermen of the village (all of whom are of Hispanic origin, but what the hell) are hostile to Stewart, Dan Duryea, and the other oil men. There are two Romeo-and-Juliet sorts of romances. Dynamite explosions. A fist fight to the death on a swaying oil rig in the middle of a hurricane.
A lot of people find Stewart unfailingly engaging and I agree that he's a fine actor. Dan Duryea is his libidinous sidekick and supplies most of the wisecracks. He's not an actor with any range. (Imagine him as a respectable shrink.) And he looks slimy, like an evil Bob Fosse, and his voice is piping and always vaguely sinister, but I always enjoy him anyway. Gilbert Roland plays Gilbert Roland, the hairy chested man of action and gallantry who laughs off danger. At one point in the movie he tries to project major guilt and break into a sob, which is a mistake. The rest of the cast provides us with a lot of familiar faces.
It seems that Anthony Mann never directed Jimmy Stewart without turning him into a neurotic, and his obsession here alienates everyone around him. But, not to worry. It all ends happily. The men get their oil, the villagers get their golden shrimp, and Stewart and Duryea get their girls. This is the 1950s. It ought to be in a time capsule.