THE LUSTY MEN (RKO, 1952, Directed by Nicholas Ray)

It is not surprising that Nicholas Ray, who was a product of the experimental and revolutionary stage companies of 1930s New York— and heavily influenced by Elia Kazan—should, for the most part, make films about relationships rather than spectacle.

Much sought after as a director, Humphrey Bogart borrowed him for two films when Ray was firmly entrenched at RKO Radio Films. Ray had a tendency to lean left in his politics, but his directorial abilities kept him from the wrath of die-hard anti-Communist Howard Hughes (who owned RKO).

You will remember that Ray directed REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, which, if it had been his only film, would have guaranteed him a certain immortality for his association with James Dean.

THE LUSTY MEN is rightly considered a classic and is a semi-documentary tale of the rough, rowdy and sometimes tragic lives led by rodeo competitors. The plot is simple: a washed-up former rodeo star (Robert Mitchum) agrees to coach and manage an ambitious upstart (Arthur Kennedy) who, after becoming the new champion, resents his mentor and humiliates him by challenging his manhood, which in this film is symbolized by competition in the rodeo ring. Tragic results ensue, but a happy ending still surfaces. (This may be the film’s only flaw).

Apparently only the bare bones of the script existed when shooting started. Sequences were written every night during principal photography and shot the next day. The key story problem was how to make Susan Hayward (Kennedy’s wife in the film) seem like the central character, since she was the biggest star of the three in 1952.

Despite this seemingly frenzied circumstance, Ray worked very slowly, to the point where Robert Mitchum nicknamed him ‘the mystic’ because of the way he would stare at the actors, trying to probe them for psychological insight into a scene. Robert Mitchum was well-known for his ‘indifference’ about acting and filmmaking. ‘What page are we on and what’s my mark?’ and of course, my favourite Mitchum quote: ‘People say I have an interesting walk, but I’m just trying to hold in my gut.’

Although Ray was a serious artist, he was also a womanizer and a boozer and he and Mitchum connected on this film, both as loose cannons and as artists. Ray was the first to suspect that Mitchum’s supposed ‘indifference’ was just a masking of his real artistic and even poetic self.

At any rate their collaboration makes for a memorable film. One cannot underestimate the contributions of the brilliant and unpretentious Susan Hayward or the vastly under-rated theatre actor Arthur Kennedy, who, in my opinion, never gave a bad performance. Both he and Robert Mitchum got so caught up in the ‘lustiness’ of the rodeo atmosphere that they took turns actually riding a wild horse and a Brahma bull. Not to be outdone, Nick Ray did the same. Good thing the insurance people weren’t around! Mitchum said he was bleeding from his hair by the time he got off.

THE LUSTY MEN is brilliantly shot, with wind-swept panoramas that recall the best of John Ford. Conveying isolation and restlessness, the stage is set for a dynamic character study centred on the relationships of the three central characters and the needs that drive them.

The wonderful character actor, Arthur Hunnicutt, plays a broken-down ex-rodeo man who has in tow Rusty, a little chit of a tomboy. At the end of the film, when Mitchum’s character lays dying, a brief cutaway to Rusty has her mouthing ‘I love you’. It is a throwaway moment that defines the whole film: lost opportunities, unspoken feelings and quiet suffering.

THE LUSTY MEN is a great film. Interestingly, the parties involved knew it even before it was released. Mitchum, who normally couldn’t give a rip about his finished films (‘They don’t pay me to see ‘em’) actually asked to see some of the film before it was completed. Ray obliged and showed him two-thirds of the movie. Mitchum apparently left walking ten feet high, he was so proud. In typical macho man fashion, they went to a bar to celebrate. Ray later recalled, as he crawled home hours later, that his last memory of Mitchum that evening was of him regaling a couple of drunk FBI agents. Mitchum then proceeded to borrow one of the agent’s gun and started firing at the dirty dishes while the kitchen staff ‘got the heck out of Dodge’.

No wonder the film turned out so well. You can’t make a film called THE LUSTY MEN without a lot of testosterone. Mitchum and Ray had it in spades. They were also great artists, who, in tandem with Hayward and Kennedy, collaborated to give us one of the great films of the 1950s.

Not readily available on video any longer, this film can be rented from the Video Library. (Thank goodness!) The print they have is not the greatest, but it’s still better than seeing it on the late show. Let’s hope the folks at Turner cough up some more restoration money and release this film again from a cleaned up print.

If you’re like me, you’ll watch Robert Mitchum in almost anything. Watching him in a film of this collaborative strength is a great experience.

Jon Ted Wynne