Hud

It has been said that Paul Newman was a character actor trapped in the body of a movie star. He had matinee idol good looks but was unafraid to tackle challenging roles in films like The Hustler (1961), Slap Shot (1977), and Road to Perdition (2002), but perhaps his riskiest role was that of the titular character in Hud (1963). Based on Larry McMurtry’s 1961 novel Horseman, Pass By, it depicts the conflict between an aging cattle rancher and his arrogant son with the nephew torn between his admiration for the former and his fascination with the latter. The film is a revisionist western, depicting a way of life that was becoming increasingly marginalized. Hud was a critical and commercial success while also being nominated for seven Academy Awards and winning three of them. It is also one of Newman’s signature roles and is a powerful example of his fearlessness as an actor.

The opening credits play over desolate Texan landscapes, captured in absolutely stunning, atmospheric quality by cinematographer James Wong Howe,  with a lone vehicle driving through while Elmer Bernstein’s somber, subdued score plays over the soundtrack. We meet Lonnie Bannon (Brandon deWilde), a young man who is looking for his uncle Hud (Newman) early in the morning, which may explain why the small town he’s walking through looks so deserted. He’s been enlisted by his grandfather Homer (Melvyn Douglas) to find Hud and bring him back home. Lonnie finds Hud at a married woman’s house just as her husband returns. The quick-thinking Hud covers his own ass by telling the angry man that it was Lonnie stepping out with his wife and quickly gets his nephew out of there. This scene is a fitting introduction to Hud as it tells us all we need to know about him – a lazy troublemaker not above lying to save his own skin.

Hud and Lonnie make it back to the ranch and Homer tells them that one of his cows is dead and he doesn’t know why. Homer wants to bring in the state veterinarian to check it out while Hud doesn’t want any government people on their property meddling in their affairs. The vet eventually shows up and tells Homer that he’s got a potential outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease. Later, Hud tells his father to sell all of the potentially infected cattle and make some quick money but Homer is a principled man and refuses. He knows that would be illegal and morally wrong. Hud doesn’t see it that way as says early on, “I always say the law was meant to be interpreted in a lenient manner. And that’s what I try to do. Sometimes I lean to one side of it, sometimes I lean to the other.”

Homer doesn’t approve of Hud’s lifestyle and in turn he believes that his father’s ways are outdated. They have spent many years in conflict with one another as evident from the tangible tension between them. The dilemma that the Bannons face is that if the cattle are infected they will have to all be destroyed and that will mean the end of the ranch because the family is broke. This casts an ominous cloud over everyone and one can’t help but feel the impending doom.

Despite all the grief Hud gives Lonnie, the young man looks up to his uncle and even has aspirations of being like him as evident early on when he tags along on one of Hud’s nights on the town. They have an interesting conversation where Hud tells him about the summer where he and Lonnie’s father raised hell and chased girls. Lonnie tells Hud that he’d like to go that route but when the latter invites the former to pick up women Lonnie demurs, which is the first indication that the young man doesn’t really want to be like Hud.

Paul Newman turns in another effortless performance as the ultimate heel. Initially, he portrays Hud as a charming rogue that specializes in married women but as the film progresses the actor reveals his character’s more troubling aspects, like his dishonest ideas for the ranch and his increasingly aggressive advances towards Alma (Patricia Neal), the Bannon’s housekeeper. Newman also shows a keen understanding of his character in the way he carries himself in a given scene. It is fascinating to watch how he interacts with objects, incorporating them into the moment and making it look natural. The actor knows how to immerse himself in a character, adopting specific mannerisms and ways of speaking. He’s also not afraid to go to dark places with Hud, especially when it comes to his relationship with Alma. Their flirting comes to an ugly conclusion that changes things between them forever. I think Homer sums Hud up best when he tells him, “You don’t value nothing. You don’t respect nothing. You keep no check on your appetites at all. You live just for yourself and that makes you not fit to live with.” Melvyn Douglas delivers this speech masterfully and Newman, ever the gracious actor, stands there and takes it, glowering at him in simmering anger.

Brandon deWilde plays a young man coming of age and finding himself torn between Hud and his grandfather. The actor does a nice job of conveying the conflict that resides in Lonnie. He instills his character with the youthful idealism of a young man who hasn’t many life experiences under his belt but gets more than his share during the course of the film. Lonnie goes from someone who follows others to someone that figures out who he is in the world. DeWilde has the fresh-faced looks of youthful innocence and this is contrasted with intelligent eyes that suggest someone who thinks about things.

Melvyn Douglas is excellent as the aging patriarch. He’s an old school straight shooter from a bygone era. He remembers the past and its importance as he tells Lonnie about two of his oldest cattle: “I just keep ‘em for old time’s sake. Keep ‘em to remind me how things was. Everything we had came from their hides: our furniture, our ropes, our clothes, our hats.” He’s a tough old guy but Douglas also hints at a physical fragility, which is juxtaposed with Newman’s vitality. There is a nice scene between Homer and Lonnie when they go to the movies and the tired old man comes to life when the audience sings along to “My Darling Clementine.”

Patricia Neal plays Alma, the housekeeper looking after the Bannon men, and deflects Hud’s occasional flirtations as they trade good-natured verbal barbs. Newman and Neal play well off each other in their scenes together and have excellent chemistry. He is all smarmy smirks and roguish charm while she conveys an earthy sexiness mixed with a world-weariness of someone who’s lived a good chunk of life and not all of it good.

The sexual tension between Alma and Hud gradually increases as their verbal sparring scenes crackle with fantastic dialogue like when he says of her ex-husband, “Man like that sounds no better than a heel,” to which she replies, “Aren’t ya all?” He says, “Honey, don’t go shooting all the dogs ‘cause one of them’s got fleas.” Both actors deliver this dialogue so well and so naturally, conveying a subtext of Alma’s attraction to Hud but knowing that it would be dangerous to act on it for several reasons.

The husband and wife screenwriting team of Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank Jr. first worked with director Martin Ritt on The Long Hot Summer (1958), starring Paul Newman, and went on to collaborate with the director over eight films, including Hud. Ravetch found Larry McMurtry’s novel Horseman, Pass By in a bookstore, read it and enjoyed it so much he asked Frank to read it. They had enjoyed working with Newman and Ritt and wanted to do it again. Ravetch and Frank brought the novel to Ritt’s attention as a possible film. The director wanted to work with Newman again but didn’t think that there was a part for him so the writers expanded the secondary character of Hud and made him central to the story. By doing this, Ravetch and Frank were able to examine “the greed and materialism that was beginning to take over America.”

Initially, Paramount Studios balked at this rather dark material and felt that it wasn’t commercial enough. Ravetch recalled that when executives read the script, “They paled. One of them said, ‘When does he get nice?’ I said, ‘Never.’” It was this unapologetically cruel character that drew Newman and Ritt to the project. In adapting McMurtry’s novel, Ravetch and Frank made several significant changes. Hud became Homer’s son rather than stepson as in the source material. In the book, the Bannon’s cook is a black woman named Halmea and in the film she is played by a white actress and renamed Alma.

Martin Rackin, head of Paramount Studios, did not like the film’s ending and asked Ritt to change it. The director loved and refused to change it. Newman stood by his director because he also loved the ending. Before Rackin could suggest an alternate ending, audience reaction and positive critical notices convinced the studio that Hud would be a commercial success.

The demise of Homer’s cattle ranch is a symbol of the end of a certain way of life depicted in traditional westerns. He represents the past and unfortunately Hud represents the future – cold-hearted business sense. Lonnie represents a glimmer of hope as he respects the past but looks ahead to a different way of life. Hud is a moving and powerful revisionist western about a family in decline with two of its members fighting for control – one who is older and wiser and the other younger and more savvy. It’s old school versus new school with Lonnie caught in the middle. By the end of the film he has to make some tough choices and grow up.

SOURCES

Baer, William. “Hud: A Conversation with Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank, Jr.” Mainly the 1950s. Spring 2003.

Levy, Shawn. Paul Newman: A Life. Three Rivers Press. 2009.

Miller, Gabriel. The Films of Martin Ritt: Fanfare for the Common Man. University Press of Mississippi. 2000.

Falling from Grace

Rock stars that attempt to make the move from the stage to the big screen are often met with cynicism and outright condemnation. Just look at how the likes of David Bowie, Sting and especially Madonna have been regarded by critics. With the notable exception of Bowie, most of the criticism has been warranted as either their on-stage charisma failed to translate on-screen or they just delivered terrible performances. And so, when John Mellencamp made, not just his acting debut, but also directing, it was anticipated as merely the latest rock star hubris.

However, several critics were surprised at how good Falling from Grace (1992) was. Mellencamp was smart in that he didn’t stray far from his strengths by portraying a successful singer/songwriter who returns home to face his past. Known for making music that not only celebrates America’s heartland, but also examines its darker aspects, he wisely asked author Larry McMurtry to write the screenplay. His novels Horseman, Pass By and The Last Picture Show feature the kinds of characters that Mellencamp wrote about in many of his songs so the two of them seemed like a good fit. Unfortunately, Falling from Grace was barely released in theaters and tanked at the box office. It was quickly relegated to obscurity and regarded as yet another example of rock star folly, but deserves to be rediscovered.

Bud Parks (John Mellencamp) is a successful musician who returns home for his grandfather’s 80th birthday and on the surface he’s greeted with warm smiles and open arms, but old wounds are soon reopened. As with his songs, Mellencamp has a good eye for the details of life in Middle America with its small-towns populated by pickup trucks of everyday people struggling to get by. Bud’s sister Sally (Deirdre O’Connell) is upset because her husband Mitch (John Prine) drinks too much and is never around. Bud’s brother Parker (Brent Huff) is married to P.J. (Kay Lenz), the musician’s high school sweetheart. There’s still something between her and Bud, which surfaces upon his return, much to the chagrin of his wife Alice (Mariel Hemingway). The main source of strife stems from Bud’s father Speck (Claude Akins), a real piece of work whose past bad behavior casts a dark cloud over the entire family.

Falling from Grace is a character-driven film propelled by their behavior as opposed to the plot. Fortunately, McMurtry’s script is populated by well-developed characters with complicated relationships between them. As he demonstrated with books like The Last Picture Show, McMurtry has an innate understanding of how small-towns work and the secrets that exist in the people that populate them. Mellencamp came from this kind of town and so he is able to tap into the author’s sensibilities rather comfortably and confidently for he not only knows these people, he is one of them. As a result, we get a montage of picturesque small-town America and Bud interacting with various townsfolk. Where an outsider might look at these people condescendingly, Mellencamp has an affinity and affection for them.

On the acting front, Mellencamp wisely doesn’t stray from his comfort zone, playing a character close to himself and thanks to the music videos he’s done over the years, the singer is comfortable in front of the camera. Some reviewers saw Falling from Grace as a vanity project, but Mellencamp portrays Bud as a character full of flaws. One gets the impression that Bud left town to avoid turning out like his father and was successful, but returning has also brought back old habits. Alice even calls him on it, reminding him that he didn’t grow up until he left town and that if he stays home he’ll end up just like Speck. Mellencamp understands this push and pull dynamic all too well because he’s lived it. He gets and conveys the contradictions that exist within Bud, which is quite an accomplishment from a novice actor.

It helps that Mellencamp surrounds himself with veteran actors like Mariel Hemingway and Claude Akins, with the former playing Bud’s strong and smart wife, and the latter playing his monstrous father. Hemingway eschews the trophy wife stereotype by playing a woman that loves her husband, but refuses to live in a toxic environment like the one she finds herself upon returning with Bud to his hometown. Akins is very good as an abusive man who specializes in sleeping with married women and who is used to getting what he wants, not caring who he hurts in the process.

Originally, John Mellencamp was approached to star in films like the ones Elvis Presley did, but he wasn’t interested nor did he want to make his life story. He had always written songs about small-towns and was interested in making a film about one that would be an extension of his songwriting. Around 1982 or 1983, he got together with long-time friend and author Larry McMurtry at his home in Indiana. He stayed with Mellencamp for a week and during that time they talked about a story involving a successful Los Angeles country singer who returns to his small-town to rediscover his roots. They both agreed that they would not romanticize the subject as Mellencamp remarked, “I never liked putting rose-colored glasses on things.” McMurtry returned home and wrote the screenplay, which was then called The Kentuckian. The project bounced around four different studios over 10 years with an initial budget of $20 million, but none of them were willing to finance it unless Mellencamp sang in it and did not direct. He stuck to his guns and Columbia Pictures eventually agreed to back it, but only if he could do it for a lean $3 million. The singer agreed.

Prior to making the film, Mellencamp had come off a grueling tour for The Lonesome Jubilee album and contemplated retiring from touring. He took up oil painting as a hobby, which excited him more than making albums. Three years and one divorce later, he had finished another record and made Falling from Grace. In order to get the film made on a modest budget, Mellencamp called in a lot of favors from friends and acquaintances. Appearing in music videos helped Mellencamp act in front of the camera, but running a group of musicians helped prepare him for directing: “In rock ‘n’ roll you’ve got the roadies; in movies you’ve got all the technical people. Then there’s the talent – the guys in the band and the actors. In both jobs, you move these people around and direct them.”

Over that time, the film’s title had changed to Riding the Cage until principal photography when Larry Crane, one of Mellencamp’s bandmates, wrote a song called, “Falling from Grace.” Mellencamp liked it so much that he decided to name the film after it. Not surprisingly, music plays an important role in the film. In addition to Crane’s song, Nanci Griffith supplied one called “Cradle of the Interstate,” Janis Ian provided “Days Like These,” and Mellencamp wrote “Sweet Suzanne,” assembling a group to record it that consisted of himself, McMurtry’s son James, Joe Ely, Dwight Yoakam, and John Prine, who also wrote a song called, “All the Best” for the film.

Falling from Grace received mostly positive reviews. Roger Ebert gave the film four out of four stars and wrote, “Mellencamp turns out to have a real filmmaking gift. His film is perceptive and subtle, and doesn’t make the mistake of thinking that because something is real, it makes good fiction. The characters created here with McMurtry are three-dimensional and full realized.” Entertainment Weekly gave the film a “B” rating and Owen Gleiberman called it, “a movie of heart, subtlety, and dramatic zest.” In her review for The New York Times, Janet Maslin wrote, “Mr. Mellencamp does bring out the naturalness of his actors, and he has assembled a large and believable cast. Although his own performance is often passive, he is surrounded by characters who have a galvanizing effect.”

However, the Globe and Mail’s Jay Scott wrote, “This thorough embarrassment, the cinematic version of vanity publishing, takes 45 minutes to begin to be about anything … and ends up being about nothing at all – except Mellencamp’s desire to direct a movie starring himself.” USA Today gave it two out of four stars and Mike Clark wrote, “The result, sincere to a fault, plays like a collection of soul-bearing scenes that couldn’t be jury-rigged to dramatic effect.” Mellencamp blamed the film’s commercial failure on a lack of advertising from the studio and said, “It wasn’t something that could come out of the chute real strong and finish real quick, and make millions for the company … Ten years ago – 20 years, maybe – people found those little movies interesting. They just don’t anymore.”

Bud is used to the rarefied atmosphere of a celebrity where everyone tells him what he wants to hear and this makes him susceptible to bad habits. He’s grounded by the women in his life – his wife and his sister – that aren’t afraid to call him on his bad behavior, but it is ultimately up to him to change. Once he realizes this and then acts on it can he finally put the past behind him. Falling from Grace is a slice of Americana, albeit one that celebrates the postcard perfect façade as well as exposing the dirty secrets that exists underneath. This film is a potent example of the old adage that you can’t go home again.

SOURCES

Bream, Jon. “Renaissance Rocker.” Star Tribune. March 6, 1992.

Falling from Grace Production Notes 1992.

Graff, Gary. “Mellencamp Film Finished After 9 Years.” Baltimore Sun. November 20, 1991.

Harris, Paul A. “The World’s A Canvas for John Mellencamp.” St. Louis Post-Dispatch. June 22, 1992.

Kot, Greg. “Mellencamp Tries His Hand at Film.” Chicago Tribune. January 19, 1992.

Larsen, Dave. “There’s Still A Little Cougar in the Art and Artistry of John Mellencamp.” Vancouver Sun. February 26, 1992.

MacInnis, Craig. “No American Fool.” Toronto Star. February 16, 1992.