It's full of dash, action, and comedy. James Stewart as Thomas Jefferson Destry is the new deputy Marshal in Bottleneck, sent for by his elderly friend Wash to help clean up the town and get rid of dirty evildoers and murderers like Brian Donleavy and his gang. When Destry arrives on the stagecoach, the whole town waits tensely as he climbs out. WHAT? Tom Destry, son of the gol-dangdest gunslingin' Marshal north of the Picketwire, steps delicately down from the coach, carrying a parasol and a birdcage. (He's helping a lady with her baggage.) Waal, turns out Destry is an easy-going kinda fella, fond of tellin' stories about friends of his, has a hobby of carvin' napkin rings. Don't tote no guns, neither.
Everybody has a good laugh at Destry's expense -- and Destry good-naturedly joins in. But we know better. We know that James Stewart is light years away from the fairyhood the opening scenes suggest. He's in Bottleneck not to shoot people but to enforce law and order and jail folks for infractions. And it isn't too long before he begins to demonstrate that he has the motor skills to do the job, and the cojones to boot. First he dumps a bucket of water over Frenchie (Marlene Dietrich), the saloon gal who is in the middle of a fight. Then he borrows some guns from Donleavy's gang and shoots the knobs off a distant roulette wheel. Whew! What a surprise! In the end he does accomplish his goal, though it costs him the lives of a few friends. The lesson is left unspoken -- his no-guns, law enforcement approach didn't work and violence was the answer.
Stewart is pretty good, not that the role calls for much in the way of fireworks. He has an engaging way of dangling his fingers when he gestures. Not his hand -- his long thin fingers, a slight wave or tremor. Marlene Dietrich, whom I respect as a woman, has charms that consistently elude me on screen, except for "The Blue Angel," in which she is a ratty seductress. She doesn't seem to have much range as an actress and her features sometimes take on the sheen of an ice sculpture.
But that's carping. This movie is an icon and must be seen. In particular, everyone must see Dietrich singing, "See What the Boys in the Back Woom Will Have," and jiggling her vocal chords with thumb and forefinger as she parodies a vibrato.
Everybody has a good laugh at Destry's expense -- and Destry good-naturedly joins in. But we know better. We know that James Stewart is light years away from the fairyhood the opening scenes suggest. He's in Bottleneck not to shoot people but to enforce law and order and jail folks for infractions. And it isn't too long before he begins to demonstrate that he has the motor skills to do the job, and the cojones to boot. First he dumps a bucket of water over Frenchie (Marlene Dietrich), the saloon gal who is in the middle of a fight. Then he borrows some guns from Donleavy's gang and shoots the knobs off a distant roulette wheel. Whew! What a surprise! In the end he does accomplish his goal, though it costs him the lives of a few friends. The lesson is left unspoken -- his no-guns, law enforcement approach didn't work and violence was the answer.
Stewart is pretty good, not that the role calls for much in the way of fireworks. He has an engaging way of dangling his fingers when he gestures. Not his hand -- his long thin fingers, a slight wave or tremor. Marlene Dietrich, whom I respect as a woman, has charms that consistently elude me on screen, except for "The Blue Angel," in which she is a ratty seductress. She doesn't seem to have much range as an actress and her features sometimes take on the sheen of an ice sculpture.
But that's carping. This movie is an icon and must be seen. In particular, everyone must see Dietrich singing, "See What the Boys in the Back Woom Will Have," and jiggling her vocal chords with thumb and forefinger as she parodies a vibrato.