verbal sexual innuendo — is
really a duel between two aging champions for the upper hand in their
relationship, between the queen of this corner of the West and a shootist (Barry
Sullivan) tired of killing.
In one remarkably modern scene, these duelists lie side-by-side in the shack
where they've taken cover from a tornado. It's clear they've just made love, and
Jessica's voice is very low, even confessional as she describes her hard life —
punching cows at 9, midwifing the birth of her brother at 13, burying her mother
afterward.
It's a moment of great resonance and authenticity, marking a certain kind of
woman's evolution into ruthless independence and appetite for power. Her lover
has to shoot her, of course.
Such Westerns can be seen as cautionary parables, but the fact remains that
they foreground strong, sympathetic heroes who often choose outlawry as the only
way out of emotional and economic oppression.
Stanwyck in "Forty Guns" (20th Century-Fox Film Corp/Courtesy the Everett
Collection)
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