The Economist - 19_25 April 2014

Books and artsThe Economist April 19th 2014 67Also in this section68 Kim Philby, spy68 Rachel Seiffert’s walk home69 America in Afghanistan70 A bestselling Swiss thriller70 Modernising Arthur MillerFor daily analysis and debate on books, arts andculture, visitEconomist.com/cultureAmerican cinemaA man in fullHow John Wayne stayed America’s favourite film starforso longSOON after his 57th birthday, JohnWayne learned that he had a big canceroustumour on his left lung. “I sat there,” helater wisecracked, “trying to be JohnWayne.” Who was that imaginary figure:Western hero? Shy giant? Rightist bigot?American myth? Scott Eyman knows thequestions but leaves it mostly to others tosay what Wayne’s outsize screen personagemeant. He concentrates instead onwhat Wayne, the actor, did.In comprehensive detail, this new biographychronicles a great starat work. Lighton Hollywood gush and sleaze, ittracks theups and downs of a long career. Its patientrecord of Wayne’s triple hold on audiences,critics and moneymen goes someway to explaining an astonishing factabout a man who was born in 1907, notlong after the birth of film itself: that eventoday, Wayne remains one of the top-tenfavourite stars in America, a fixed point inan otherwise changeable field of actorsand actressesyoungenough to be hisgreatgrandchildren.From the late 1920s, when Waynestarted in Hollywood shifting props andturning stunts, until just before his death in1979, he appeared in around 200 films. Hecame up slowly in silent quickies and thenin hack parts for minor studios. He madefriends with Yakima Canutt, dean of thestuntmen. The long apprenticeship taughtWayne to use gesture more than words.John Wayne: The Life and Legend. ByScott Eyman. Simon and Schuster; 512pages; $32.50 and £25The director John Ford spotted Wayne’ssimple, natural-seeming style and cast himin “Stagecoach” (1939), Wayne’s breakthroughWestern. “He’ll be the biggest starever,” Ford predicted. “He’s the perfectEveryman.”Wayne on camera was not dwarfed bythe desert. He seemed to get bigger as hewent up. Almost six foot four (1.93 metres)in boots, he had a broad chest, long body,shortish legs and small feet. He workedhard to become a graceful big man. Theswaying stride he developed—like a fairyto some, “I-own-the-world” to others—made him recognisable by gait alone.He was gorgeous when young, withlidded, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbonesand a lopsided smile. His face wasstrong, not rugged, and with no trace ofcruelty or guile. Nightloads of tequila andcigarettes, dawn shoots, three marriagesand countless affairs, including one withMarlene Dietrich, aged the face withoutchanging the expression. The neck thickened,the stomach grew and drooping lidsnarrowed the eyes. Wayne’s steady,appraising gaze still said, “I won’t startanything, but ifyou do…”Wayne was lucky in his directors, asthey were in him. Several of Ford’s Westernswith Wayne became classics, notably“The Searchers” (1956, pictured) and “TheMan who Shot Liberty Valance” (1962), asdid an earlier film, “Red River” (1948),directed by Howard Hawks. In a populargenre, such films pointed to the moralharms of frontier conquest. They replayedwith 20th-century means the old tale ofwilderness versus civilisation. He did warpics, adventure films and comedies too,butthe American Westwashistruest stage.How hard it was, Ford and Hawks onceagreed, to shoota Western withoutWayne.He was born Marion Morrison into astruggling Scots-Irish family in Iowa, nicknamedDuke as a boy after his Airedale terrierand renamed John Wayne on screen.His father’s luck—a failed farm, a job in adrugstore—was no better on moving toCalifornia. When he was 14, Wayne’s parentssplit up. The navy turned him downand young Wayne was too poor to stay incollege. Hard graft, wariness of high-upsand sympathy for working stiffs becamehis compass points.After the studio system weakened inthe late 1940s, big stars and independentproducers came into their own. Waynewasamongthe firstactorsto win a percentageof a film’s earnings. By then his namealone could bankroll a film. He started hisown production company and tried directing,with mixed success. Though fewcriticsapplauded, audiences did. “The GreenBerets” (1968), Wayne’s hymn of praise tothe Vietnam war, made big money. Waynehimself grew rich, though not super-rich.Trusting and open by nature, he was routinelyoutfoxed by Hollywood’s secondmost-creativeindustry, accounting.Politically, Wayne emergeshere less asaconservative zealot than as an innocenteasilyused. In the second world war, when1