the NY Times DVD write-up from 2007

There is one excellent reason to pick up Universal’s “Classic Western Round-Up: Volume 1,” and that is Jacques Tourneur’s 1946 “Canyon Passage,” a western that resembles no other and remains one of the great unsung achievements of American filmmaking.

There are two more good reasons to pick up the set: King Vidor’s handsome, rarely seen “Texas Rangers” from 1936, and Raoul Walsh’s “Lawless Breed,” a colorful 1953 vehicle for a young Rock Hudson.

The ringer here, and there had to be one, is “Kansas Raiders,” a dull Audie Murphy vehicle from 1950 that has the small virtue of functioning as a palate-cleanser between the other grand dishes on the menu. With the two-disc set listing for a reasonable $26.98, you can consider “Kansas Raiders” a freebie, though, like all the films in the box, it has been given a first-class presentation in what looks to be a spanking-new Technicolor print.

But back to “Canyon Passage.” This rainy, nocturnal Western comes right before the great film noir “Out of the Past” in Tourneur’s filmography, and stands in a similar relationship to its genre: a reflective, lyrical interpretation of a set of themes and images most often associated with violence.

This was the first western directed by the French-born Tourneur (1904-1977), and consciously or not, he seems to be breaking most of the established rules of the game. It is, for one thing, the only western I know in which space seems to flow vertically rather than horizontally, following the ups and downs of the mountainous terrain in which the film is set, rather than playing out along “the horizon line of history,” as Andrew Sarris described John Ford’s epic visualization of the West.

The setting is a small settlement in an isolated Oregon valley, somewhere in the unexplored country that extends — infinitely, it would seem — west from Denver. The outpost is densely populated, even though you feel you could hold it in the palm of your hand: there’s the restless local entrepreneur, who dreams of founding a shipping empire (Dana Andrews); the tinhorn gambler (Brian Donlevy) engaged to the spirited frontier woman (Susan Hayward); the proper English rose (Patricia Roc) who lost her family in an Indian raid, and is drawing the Andrews character’s attention; the thuggish interloper (Ward Bond) who threatens to disrupt the delicate peace with the surrounding Indians; and, most remarkably, a local bard (the great Hoagy Carmichael), a lunar figure who observes the action from a distance (“the moon is my silver saddle,” he sings, strumming on his faithful lute) and seems ultimately and magically to preside over the fates of these star-crossed characters.

The little settlement is tenuous and unstable, a condition made real by Tourneur’s arrangement of tiny shops and homes clinging to the steep side of a valley. There is no level playing field here, and no easy way of separating the good citizens from the bad, the progressives from the hustlers, and the racist thugs from the settlers reluctantly facing up to the moral nature of their mission.

“The Indians live here,” says a mule-skinner played by Andy Devine. “We’re on their land. They ain’t likely to forget that.” He concedes without a second thought that the original residents occupy the moral high ground.

It’s been said that “Out of the Past,” with its careful moral gradations reflected in the range of Tourneur’s famously subtle lighting, is less a film noir than a film gris, painted in half-tones. “Canyon Passage” achieves something similar in Technicolor, trading that process’s burning hot tones for a naturalistic palette of browns, greens and grays. Many dialogue scenes take place outdoors, where Tourneur is able to use a soft light filtered through a canopy of leaves to cast a silent spell of intimacy.

“Canyon Passage” has a plot — something to do with a mounting threat from the hostile Indian bands that surround the village — but it’s really about the shifting loyalties and affections of the main characters. We sense from the beginning that the pairings are wrong (if only because the stars, Mr. Andrews and Ms. Hayward, have been coupled with the supporting players, Ms. Roc and Mr. Donlevy), a guarantee — in fiction from Shakespeare on — that they will be correct in the end.

All of the beauty in “Canyon Passage” lies in the invisible connections Tourneur’s moving camera makes between the characters and the off-kilter landscape, comparing and contrasting, lifting up and looking down. Thank you, Universal, for treating this treasure with the respect it deserves. (Universal Home Video, $26.98, not rated)"

written by Dave Kehr, May 15, 2007


http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/15/movies/homevideo/15dvds.html