The Misfits
Three outsiders who all have one or another problem with women, and who all wish to avoid the stultification that comes with participation in the modern wage-labour system, each find themselves projecting their dreams onto the same object – a beautiful, childlike, but lost and wounded woman who nevertheless seems to radiate a feeling of cosmic, almost pantheistic care (cf., GONE TO EARTH, 1950, and BREAKING THE WAVES, 1996, for a less American version of this type of female protagonist).
Cinephilic types often talk about the “revisionist western”, but this film is more like an anti-western, written as if wanting to explode that genre for all time on the grounds that it is a form of denial, an absurd male fantasy, and ultimately death-driven. A lot of the dialogue comes across as striving too hard for meaningfulness (but there are good patches, too), and Monroe’s appeal is undeniable but so too are her limitations. Pauline Kael gets it right when she describes the film as an “erratic, sometimes personal in the wrong way, and generally unlucky picture that is often affecting”, right when she says that “Montgomery Clift is particularly engaging in the smaller role of a cowhand-rodeo rider with mother troubles”, and right as well about Monroe’s part, concluding that “the film has an uncomfortable element of fake psychodrama – she’s pushy about her own sensitivity” (Kael, 1991, p. 484).
Still, just when one is about ready to give up on the movie, the mustangin’ scenes, which are at times almost unbearable, suddenly seem to give the film an unexpected gravitas that is almost enough to convince the viewer that the filmmakers have brought off a confrontation with the whole myth of America and the whole myth of masculinity to boot. It doesn’t really work, but it does have something.
Cinephilic types often talk about the “revisionist western”, but this film is more like an anti-western, written as if wanting to explode that genre for all time on the grounds that it is a form of denial, an absurd male fantasy, and ultimately death-driven. A lot of the dialogue comes across as striving too hard for meaningfulness (but there are good patches, too), and Monroe’s appeal is undeniable but so too are her limitations. Pauline Kael gets it right when she describes the film as an “erratic, sometimes personal in the wrong way, and generally unlucky picture that is often affecting”, right when she says that “Montgomery Clift is particularly engaging in the smaller role of a cowhand-rodeo rider with mother troubles”, and right as well about Monroe’s part, concluding that “the film has an uncomfortable element of fake psychodrama – she’s pushy about her own sensitivity” (Kael, 1991, p. 484).
Still, just when one is about ready to give up on the movie, the mustangin’ scenes, which are at times almost unbearable, suddenly seem to give the film an unexpected gravitas that is almost enough to convince the viewer that the filmmakers have brought off a confrontation with the whole myth of America and the whole myth of masculinity to boot. It doesn’t really work, but it does have something.
Mini Review: Three outsiders who all have a problem with women, and all wish to avoid the stultification that comes with participation in the modern wage-labour system, each find themselves projecting their dreams onto a beautiful, childlike, but lost and wounded woman who nevertheless seems to radiate a feeling of cosmic care. There may be the “revisionist western”, but this is more like an anti-western, exploding that genre on the grounds it is a form of denial, a male fantasy, and ultimately death-driven.
Watch the Trailer