ShaneThe dangers of "hero worship" come from people resting the responsibility for their woes on an individual, elevating that person's role above their limitations. Shane is a Western about a drifter--named Shane (Alan Ladd)--who allows himself to be drawn into a conflict over land between settlers in Wyoming Territory circa 1889. Despite superficial attempts to remain nothing more than a passive observer in the feud, Shane inevitably comes to blows with a brutish gang of thugs and bullies led by a cattle rancher named Rufus Ryker (Emile Meyer). They have been accosting the homesteaders, including the Starrett family who takes him in, consisting of Joe (Van Heflin), his wife, Marian (Jean Arthur), and their son, Joey (Brandon deWilde), and Shane finds that he has no alternative but to lend a hand and stand up for what's right.
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The story of Shane comes from the novel of the same name by Jack Schaefer, which in turn was inspired by the infamous "Johnson County War" of 1892 (also in Wyoming), involving cattle companies employing bounty hunters and ne'er-do-wells to drive out settlers from their land. (This is explored further in movies like Heaven's Gate.) Shane doesn't come to the valley looking for trouble, but he can't seem to keep himself out of the business of others, and it shows on him. He is evidently not a farmer or settler from the look of him, and with his pistol at his side, it is clear that he is a gunfighter, even if he downplays this. This is a detail that immediately causes the Starrett family to draw conclusions about him, albeit differing conclusions. Joe sees him as trouble, and assumes him to be another of Ryker's hooligans coming to accost him off of his land. Marian, interestingly, appears visibly drawn to Shane, quite possibly sexually, although such things were not discussed openly in the era in which Shane was made. But Joey sees Shane as a hero even before he does anything heroic. As a young lad bored with life on the frontier, Shane represents the kind of man who is capable and honorable, even if this impression only comes from him being decent...and wearing a gun. But Shane is a decent man. He only asks for some water as he travels across their property, and asks that Joe lower his rifle so that he can be on his way without threat. It isn't until Ryker's gang shows up and actually does accost the Starretts that Shane intervenes. Being visibly armed and an unknown quantity, he successfully deters them from further troubling the Starretts...for now. In gratitude, they offer to let him stay in their barn, and he offers to help them with chores around the farm. The Starretts bond with Shane, and their plight becomes his; but should it be? This is the prevailing question of Shane: is a "hero" someone who intervenes against injustice because they want people who are weaker to be protected, or does that intervention itself contribute to an escalation of violence?
Shane's presence in the valley is the catalyst that leads to Ryker stepping up his hostilities against the settlers. These settlers are simple people, not fighters, yet Ryker surrounds himself in the town saloon with many rough characters. One of them, Chris Calloway (Ben Johnson), openly insults Shane without provocation, calling him a "sodbuster" and throwing whisky on his new shirt after he orders a bottle of soda pop. The settlers frequently comment that the only source of law in the valley is three days away, meaning that there is no recourse for them when men like Calloway mistreat them. There is precious little that we know about Shane's past (practically nothing, really), but it is clear that he knows how to keep his cool. It isn't until the second encounter with Calloway (with little Joey watching) that Shane returns the insult, leading to a massive barroom brawl, which draws in Ryker's other hired guns and Joe into the fracas. This confrontation forces Ryker's hand yet again, escalating the intensity of the conflict in the valley. He tries to hire both Joe and Shane first hand, which they understandably refuse. He tries to reason with them on the basis that he--and men like him--fought to tame the land in the first place, though his claims ring hollow given how he readily employs force to get his way. Ultimately, Shane's presence and heroism stirs the other settlers, including the gruff Frank "Stonewall" Torrey (Elisha Cook Jr.). Regrettably, this emboldens Torrey to lip off to Ryker and his men--an unfortunate decision which forces Ryker to make an example out of him by way of his own professional gunslinger, a cold snake calling himself Jack Wilson (Jack Palance). Wilson goads Torrey into a gunfight he can't win, and clearly not for the first time in his villainous career it would seem. This scene is often cited as a turning point for the Western genre, removing much of the romantic veneer from it. Torrey may be full of beans, but he doesn't deserve to be cruelly executed, dying face down in the mud. Is Shane responsible for this outcome? Or rather, is Shane's way of standing up to Ryker what kicked off this increasing violence against the settlers? After all, would Ryker have even sought out Wilson had Shane not been a factor? These are inescapable questions that represents the high cost of heroism. What responsibility does a hero carry for intervening on another's behalf? Consider for example the bizarre, somewhat recent tale of "Kai the Hatchet-Wielding Hitchhiker". Lauded as a hero at first, revealed to be a maniac later; not a hero at all. Shane has killed before; he intimates as much to Joey, and he is all too comfortable with a gun. Is his journey one of atonement? Are his travels little more than a vicious cycle that always ends in violence? If it is, shouldn't he be even more careful not to get involved than he is? This is the question asked of nations when conflicts rise up around the world. Consider the ongoing Russia-Ukraine War, or the Syrian Civil War, or Afghanistan, to name some of the most recent conflicts turned proxy wars. Should the United States be involved in these wars on the other side of the planet? And yet compare this question with our country's involvement in World War I and II, where the U.S. stayed out for much of the early years, inadvertently allowing tyrants to run rampant until it was almost too late to stop them. It's not too hard in this light to look at Shane as a metaphor for American exceptionalism, or more accurately, an enforcer for world peace. There is a saying: "The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." It may be the right thing to do, but it may also bring death and destruction regardless. Can we live with that?
Recommended for: Fans of a profound Western that deals subtly in metaphor and psychology; a watershed moment for the genre that would pave the way for many legendary titles afterward, like The Great Silence and Unforgiven. Shane seems to tap into a kind of collective fear and unease following World War II in how it presents the dangers of letting dictators thrive unchecked, and the cost to the people affected by intervening.
Shane's presence in the valley is the catalyst that leads to Ryker stepping up his hostilities against the settlers. These settlers are simple people, not fighters, yet Ryker surrounds himself in the town saloon with many rough characters. One of them, Chris Calloway (Ben Johnson), openly insults Shane without provocation, calling him a "sodbuster" and throwing whisky on his new shirt after he orders a bottle of soda pop. The settlers frequently comment that the only source of law in the valley is three days away, meaning that there is no recourse for them when men like Calloway mistreat them. There is precious little that we know about Shane's past (practically nothing, really), but it is clear that he knows how to keep his cool. It isn't until the second encounter with Calloway (with little Joey watching) that Shane returns the insult, leading to a massive barroom brawl, which draws in Ryker's other hired guns and Joe into the fracas. This confrontation forces Ryker's hand yet again, escalating the intensity of the conflict in the valley. He tries to hire both Joe and Shane first hand, which they understandably refuse. He tries to reason with them on the basis that he--and men like him--fought to tame the land in the first place, though his claims ring hollow given how he readily employs force to get his way. Ultimately, Shane's presence and heroism stirs the other settlers, including the gruff Frank "Stonewall" Torrey (Elisha Cook Jr.). Regrettably, this emboldens Torrey to lip off to Ryker and his men--an unfortunate decision which forces Ryker to make an example out of him by way of his own professional gunslinger, a cold snake calling himself Jack Wilson (Jack Palance). Wilson goads Torrey into a gunfight he can't win, and clearly not for the first time in his villainous career it would seem. This scene is often cited as a turning point for the Western genre, removing much of the romantic veneer from it. Torrey may be full of beans, but he doesn't deserve to be cruelly executed, dying face down in the mud. Is Shane responsible for this outcome? Or rather, is Shane's way of standing up to Ryker what kicked off this increasing violence against the settlers? After all, would Ryker have even sought out Wilson had Shane not been a factor? These are inescapable questions that represents the high cost of heroism. What responsibility does a hero carry for intervening on another's behalf? Consider for example the bizarre, somewhat recent tale of "Kai the Hatchet-Wielding Hitchhiker". Lauded as a hero at first, revealed to be a maniac later; not a hero at all. Shane has killed before; he intimates as much to Joey, and he is all too comfortable with a gun. Is his journey one of atonement? Are his travels little more than a vicious cycle that always ends in violence? If it is, shouldn't he be even more careful not to get involved than he is? This is the question asked of nations when conflicts rise up around the world. Consider the ongoing Russia-Ukraine War, or the Syrian Civil War, or Afghanistan, to name some of the most recent conflicts turned proxy wars. Should the United States be involved in these wars on the other side of the planet? And yet compare this question with our country's involvement in World War I and II, where the U.S. stayed out for much of the early years, inadvertently allowing tyrants to run rampant until it was almost too late to stop them. It's not too hard in this light to look at Shane as a metaphor for American exceptionalism, or more accurately, an enforcer for world peace. There is a saying: "The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." It may be the right thing to do, but it may also bring death and destruction regardless. Can we live with that?
Recommended for: Fans of a profound Western that deals subtly in metaphor and psychology; a watershed moment for the genre that would pave the way for many legendary titles afterward, like The Great Silence and Unforgiven. Shane seems to tap into a kind of collective fear and unease following World War II in how it presents the dangers of letting dictators thrive unchecked, and the cost to the people affected by intervening.