The Killing of Jud: Violence & Society in Western Film

In the 1955 film version of Oklahoma, Jud Fry, the seemingly ubiquitous villain, returns to Aunt Eller's for Curly and Laurey's wedding. He first sets fire to the haystacks, then threatens the married couple. Before Curly and Jud come to blows, Jud falls on his knife and kills himself. The marriage that he threatened to destroy is preserved; its idyllic union and the society it represents continue unscathed.

Forty years later, in Trevor Nunn's 1999 Oklahoma, Jud Fry confronts Curly once again. Curly, angered at the constant harassment, engages him. During the fight, Jud appears to stab himself. The event is tinged with ambiguity; even Curly is unsure of the facts. Curly, who certainly had no ill intent, is declared innocent by the community and continues on with his marriage, but the ambiguity remains. Society, rather than being preserved unmarked, is threaded through with violence.

Two views of society are being depicted. In one, violence occurs outside the social order. Once conquered, society continues to progress, heroic and uncontaminated. In the second view, violence is intertwined with society; it is part of its makeup. John Lenihan refers to these two views in his article "Westbound: Feature Films and the American West." Of Western dramas, Lenihan writes, "[O]ne [type] highlighted heroic pioneers of national progress, whereas the other showcased the decent man driven to outlawry by social and political unrest" (118): a heroic and pure society is contrasted against a troubled ambiguous society.

The character of Jud stands at the center of these two views of society. Jud is the outlaw, killer, "disillusioned . . . estranged from or threatening to the larger society" (121). He represents destructive violence. He threatens social order. He is, by necessity, fought and killed. He appears, symbolically, in other Western films and the issue surrounding him is always the same: what place does violence have in society? Can society survive untouched or will society inevitably be entwined with violence?

A contrast between the two Juds provides a clearer delineation of these two views. The 1955 Jud, played by Rod Steiger, is a reserved, self-collected villain. He stands aloof from the burgeoning society by choice. He is intelligent. He plans. It is notable that he lights the haystacks on fire before he attacks Curly. His aggressive distaste for Curly extends to the reconciliation Curly has achieved: "the farmer and the cowboy can be friends." Even Jud's overtures to Laurey have a pro forma feel to them. She is simply a stepping stone towards a larger goal: to undermine the society that the farmer and cowboy together represent.

The 1999 Jud, on the other hand, is an emotional and economic outcast. He is bitter to the point of pathology. He buys the knife, The Little Wonder, as a thrill. He comes to the wedding drunk. His overtures to Laurey carry the threat of rape. Her fear of him is real; he has been stalking her. He is self-interested, self-pitying and dangerously depressed. His anger at Curly is both more personal—he hardly cares what Curly represents—and more diffuse; it is Laurey's rejection of him for Curly that he resents, not Curly himself.

The differences between the two Juds sharpen in the scene between Curly and Jud at the close of Act 1. Curly has come to see Jud, possibly to remonstrate with him. A vague quarrel ensues. Jud tells Curly of an incident where a hired hand murdered an entire family. The 1955 Jud evinces a cool cynicism over this story. He is not precisely threatening Curly; he is warning him. Like a one-man Mafioso, one almost expects him to add, "And I'll put a horse head in your bed if you don't listen up."

The 1999 Jud also tells the story, but he tells it with psychotic glee. He seems to be bolstering up his esteem as he giggles over the idea of a hired man escaping punishment for murder. Curly is frightened and grows more and more frightened as the scene continues. While the 1955 Curly and Jud can communicate, hero to villain, the 1999 Curly and Jud are left staring at each other in bewilderment. To the 1999 Curly, Jud is not just the villain; he is insane.

The two Juds can be explained by looking at the times in which they were produced. In 1955, the end of World War II was only ten years away. Despite the disturbing stories of atrocities emerging from Europe, the Germans represented an acknowledged, and defeated, villain. They had been an enemy of calculation: shrewd and self-possessed. They had tried to force their social order onto the world and been stopped. The threat to democratic society had been contained and successfully destroyed. Society could continue as a united entity. This unrealistic, if idealistic, attitude was being extended in the 1950s--through McCarthyism and the Korean War--towards the threat of communism. (By the time the United States reached the Vietnam War, disenchantment had entered the mix.)

In 1999, to a generation that has seen 9/11 and Columbine, the enemy is less calculable. The outlaw, who is trying to destroy social order for gain, has been replaced by the anarchist (or conspiracist) who is simply unimpressed by social discipline. "Jud" must be engaged or at least dealt with, but uncertainty has crept into the problem and with uncertainty, an infectious ambiguity. Rather than being preserved untouched, society itself becomes an abettor of violence. All government is a "parliament of whores," P.J. O'Rourke wryly explains, and in a democracy, "the whores are us."

These differing interpretations of Jud—and with Jud, the differing views of society and violence—are reflected in how other Western films treat their "Juds." In both Stagecoach (1930) and Shane (1953), the final shootout takes place outside the regular rules of society. In Stagecoach, the shootout is condoned by the sheriff and the doctor (those pillars of the established community) but as soon as possible, they send The Ringo Kid and his new bride away from town. In Shane, Shane beats up his homesteader friend rather than let him participate in the shootout which would contaminate him, his family and ultimately, his society.

This is not to say that the violence in Stagecoach and Shane is accepted wholesale. The scenes at the end of Stagecoach alternate between the saloon, where The Kid's nemesis waits and The Kid, walking his girl home. All are patently worried. The nemesis has none of the c'est la vie bravado of Jack Wilson from Shane. He is nervous and unhappy. (See Endnote 1.) Wilson is more remorseless, but Shane, a "good Jud," is concerned about his contamination of society's youth. The little boy, who starts out with an imaginary gun, becomes more and more aggressive throughout the movie. The only solution, from Shane's point of view, is to leave so that society can remain intact and unbesmirched.

William Munney from Unforgiven (1992) also leaves, but the effect on society is more ambiguous. Not only is William Munney the outlaw (a "bad Jud"), society itself is riddled with violence. Little Bill, the sheriff, takes severe, sadistic measures to preserve his town. William Munney's solution is the solution of 1999 Jud: wipe it all out, throw it all away. He kills the saloon keeper (the town's host) as well as the inept law officers. He kills Little Bill despite Little Bill's fierce protest, "I was building a house." Leaving only the women and the non-fighting men alive, Munney rides off in a rainstorm that will purge the town of its wickedness. It is a matter of debate whether anything better will arise or whether the price of the purge has been too high.

Munney, acting ostensibly on behalf on the town's prostitutes, encapsulates "Jud's" uneasy relationship with women. In Westerns, women are a partial solution to the problem of violence and society. Lenihan describes the Western heroine as "[an] ideal woman . . . a domesticating influence on the hero and, accordingly, a symbol of civilization's triumph over the wilderness" (126). William Munney's wife exercised such an influence on him when she was alive. Once she is gone, he yields-- with very little pressure--to the proposition of violence.

Women can be violent, but in Westerns they are never as violent or threatening as men. Through marriage, they dilute male anti-social behavior. Curly and Laurey's marriage in Oklahoma is the ultimate symbol of the "brand, new State." The point is, interestingly enough, made more strongly in the 1999 Oklahoma. Marriage to Curley will not just keep Laurey safe from Jud, it will keep Curly (the male) from turning into Jud (a rapist/murderer). In the song "It's a Scandal" (not in the 1955 film), the peddler complains that he has been forced into marriage but the song also reinforces the necessity of "shotgun weddings." Without marriage, male predatoriness cannot be controlled. Marriage is not simply a byproduct of an organized society; it is its safeguard.

This attitude is reflected in Stagecoach where The Kid's incipient gentleness is brought out by the fallen (but still domestic) Dallas. Dallas' antithesis can be found in the furious prostitutes of Unforgiven who scrap up money to buy a killer. Their rumors (the victim's injuries grow as the story is retold) bring outlaws to a town which, however corrupt, is stable. Yet, the women are not punished for their verbal violence. The implication is that society carries some of their guilt. Munney, Shane-like, takes all the guilt upon himself. He becomes a figurative scapegoat, carrying society's sins into the wilderness. The biographer's story is the only thing that will remain.

Like the prostitutes in Unforgiven, the women in Shane do not tame or civilize the outlaw. The married homesteaders are less wild than the single cowboys, but it is doubtful whether they could discipline the destructive elements of the town without Shane's help. Yet, Shane is also a danger to them; he could break up the home internally: specifically, the Starrett home. This emphasizes Shane's outsider status. The male who cannot be controlled must either die (like Jud) or leave.

Society then is either saved from violence, making marriage possible or is preserved, despite violence, through marriage and other social institutions. 1955 Jud, crafty and self-possessed, is removed largely by accident. The married couple then ride off in their buggy "with the fringe on top" through a glowing, pastoral setting. Violence has been stopped, society is still whole. 1999 Jud—drunk, crazy and pathetic—kills himself during a fight. The married couple, protected from legal ramifications--if not emotional ones--by their community, leave in a modern automobile: a symbol of a changing society which cannot be slowed even for the sake of innocence. (See Endnote 2.)

A discussion of society and violence is apropos to the West, an arena that saw violence against Native Americans, reciprocal violence against white settlers, competition for resources and various forms of outlawry. Violence occurs in every civilization, but the West was settled by contemporaneous Americans at the beginning of the media era. The ensuing violence has been captured in books, articles, films, family histories. It is closer to us. From the Donner party to the Mountain Meadows Massacre to the Trail of Tears--an outrage that involves Oklahoma directly—the West's violence is palpable: easily and continually invoked. Any view of the West must therefore contend with the implications of a violent history—can the violence be purged or will violence continue so long as humans have violent tendencies? The question continues to be asked.

At the end of WWII, it was hoped that violence, once conquered, would leave society pure, able to carry on its noble purposes. Towards the end of the 20th century, violence and society came to be seen as intertwined. Violence, whether in men or in women, has to be addressed, even combated, but the process—often involving violence itself--is fraught with ambiguity and no one is sure, once the problem is addressed, whether anyone will remain untouched. Trevor Nunn's vision in the 1999 Oklahoma seems to embrace the inevitability of violence. Human nature being what it is, violence will occur. Society cannot prevent it coming nor can society shirk facing it; however, violence will not cripple society so long as people have courage. Aunt Eller's speech to Laurey in 1999 gains a resonance it lacks in the pristine 1955 version. "You got to be used to all kinds of things happening to you, "Aunt Eller instructs Laurey, "sickness . . . death . . . you got to be hearty. You gotta be."

ENDNOTES

1. I was reminded of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's book A Death Foretold in which an entire community stands by while an assassination is planned by brothers who do not, in fact, want to kill.

2. The differing perceptions of violence are reflected in the two portrayals of Oklahoma society. The 1955 setting is cultivated and established. Aunt Eller lives in a large farm house. She works in a pastoral setting. The scenery is stunningly beautiful, including both majestic mountains (background) and green lawn (foreground). Turner-like, the settlers have created a fully functional society in a short amount of time. The wedding of Curly and Laurey—at which the title song "Oklahoma" is sung--will seal the success of the pioneer community.

The 1999 setting, on the other hand, is primitive. The curtain opens on a small shack; the yard is filled with farm tools. In the background, brown earth sweeps to meet a relentless blue sky. Society is still in the making. The outcome of the show's relationships will shape the future. Curly and Laurey's marriage is the first step. When a death occurs on their wedding day, the inference is clear: society will go on; it will change and progress, but it will be troubled. Survival will be difficult. There is no Golden Age to fall back on.

2 comments:

Alanna said...

Really great piece of work other than one glaring mistake... You write: "In 1999, to a generation that has seen 9/11 and Columbine, the enemy is less calculable."

The attack of the Twin Towers on September 11th occurred in 2001. The 1999 audience had not yet witnessed this act of violence...

Otherwise, some really very interesting observations.

Kate Woodbury said...

Good catch!

One possible fix:

In 1999, a generation that has seen Columbine and massacres in Kosovo . . .

On a side-note, this is one reason I'm always hesitant to write historical fiction :) --I'm always afraid I'll be off on details of dress, food, clothing, attitudes, events by a few years or decades. History tends to get squashed together--"ancient Egypt" includes pyramids and mummies and Cleopatra when, in fact, the Egyptian pyramids would actually have been ancient to Cleopatra!