When it comes to film stars, very few people could match Paul Newman and his decades-long dominance of cinema, especially in the 1960s – with his piercing blue eyes, his subtle conviction in his willingness to challenge himself as an actor and ability to play any role across a number of genres, he truly was one of the great screen performers of his time, someone who didn’t only rely on his position as one of his generation’s most beloved heartthrobs, but also on his profoundly impressive talents in a wide variety of films over the course of his extensive career. Hud is amongst his most perfect – and perhaps most unconventional performances – and going against his archetypal role as the dashing hero, Newman takes on a flawed man, not quite a villain, but also far from being heroic or admirable – and in placing him in the central role of a film, Hud is an early example of the anti-hero western, a revision on the more stereotypical, one-dimensional view of the genre, which depended solely on the reductive “heroes and villains” narrative. Newman trades in the chivalry and charm for hideous machismo, dishonesty and a complete lack of morality in his portrayal of the titular character, and he manages to turn someone who is otherwise entirely despicable into a compelling, complex anti-hero who occupies the central role in a very unique approach to the western genre.

Hud Bannon (Paul Newman) is a young stud living in the American Heartland. He occasionally helps his widowed father, Homer (Melvyn Douglas) and his orphaned nephew, Lonnie (Brandon de Wilde) on the family’s ranch, which his father has lovingly cared for over the decades. The death of an otherwise healthy cow is cause for concern for Homer, who is chagrined to discover that his cattle have been infected with foot and mouth disease – and the inevitable culling of his herd will bring an end to his ranch and bring him into economic turmoil. His grandson certainly cares, because he realizes family is more important than anything. Hud, on the other hand, struggles to care much and is too concerned with his own interests, such as gallivanting around the town, seducing the young and attractive wives of local men who are usually working long hours or away at work. The three generations of Bannon men have to find a way forward, both financially and more importantly, with each other – there is a deeper problem underlying the relationship between Homer and Hud, one that is never explicitly mentioned, but is most certainly the root of their animosity towards each other, and Lonnie does his duty as the common ground between the two men, and there might be some hope that they can find the love so sorely missing from the ranch, which is far more of a house than it is a home.

Hud is a film about relationships between different people, and one of the most central themes of this film is that of the father and son dynamic. The characters of Hud and Homer are, on the surface, the most important part of the film, and the driving factor behind it – and the two men tasked with the responsibility of bringing these characters to life are remarkable. Newman, as I have already remarked, sheds his more likeable persona for one that is far less admirable, and perhaps even quite despicable – Hud Bannon is not a good man. He is a cheating, smarmy young individual who would not give betraying his family a second thought if it meant he would benefit from it. As his father mentions, Hud “doesn’t give a damn about anyone” – and for a star like Newman to take on a character that not only acts in despicable ways, but also fails to atone for them fully and receive the moral redemption we’d come to expect from a character who is less-than-admirable, was quite a coup for his career, but it resulted in one of his finest performances. Melvyn Douglas, a great veteran at this point playing reliable supporting roles after a long career of leading roles, takes on the difficult role of Homer Bannon – the part required an actor who would be able to play to Homer’s gruff, everyman sensibilities while still retaining some element of quiet sensitivity, especially in the latter parts of the film, where Homer confronts not only the external people threatening to take away his livelihood, including his son, but also himself – how does someone come to terms with the fact that their life’s work is about to be taken away from them due to one small, seemingly inconsequential mistake? Hud often takes the form of a battle of wits between the two men, and both Newman and Douglas were astonishing in their roles – so natural and effortlessly truthful, they help the film soar through the might of their willful, able performances.

While most of Hud is arguably focused on the relationship between Hud and Homer, they are certainly not the only aspects of the film worth mentioning – because while the father and son dynamic is the central theme, the true heart of the film comes in the form of Lonnie, played by Brandon de Wilde. This is much more than just the naive young man character who idolizes someone who is far from admirable – there are several moments where this film seems to be focusing on Lonnie (the original novel did position Lonnie as the central character), and the film does start to explore him in a much deeper manner. Lonnie is in a difficult phase – caught in between adolescence and adulthood, and faced with the likely possibility that he is going to be forced to grow up very fast, especially with his grandfather, his main caretaker, growing weaker by the day. Lonnie is the representation of innocence, a young man confronted with the future and the uncertainty thereof. De Wilde was an extraordinarily talented actor, from his earliest days as a child performer and into adulthood, he showed masterful range and intricate subtlety that gave his performances such wonderful gravitas. The other significant performer in this film that deserves praise is Patricia Neal, who plays the willful housekeeper who does not allow the fact that her employers pay her salary to keep her from calling them out on their delusions and character flaws. Neal is only in the film for roughly twenty minutes, less than a quarter of the film’s total duration, but her work in Hud leaves a lasting impact – despite the film mainly focusing on the three generations of Bannon men and their various issues, Neal forges a very distinct place in this film. Her sweet but relentlessly feisty portrayal of Alma is astounding to behold, and what she does with the character is almost beyond what we’d expect from such a small role – and her ability to not only play to the character’s strength, but also to her vulnerability in one pivotal scene confirms Neal was exceptionally good in the film. As a whole, the ensemble of Hud is definitely quite strong, and even though the film has been mainly marketed as a starring vehicle for Newman, it finds its most glowing merits in the supporting performances, which don’t necessarily overshadow Newman’s central performance but rather magnificently complement it.

It goes without saying that Hud is a very different kind of western. First of all, as I have alluded to several times in this review, we are presented with a character who is far from the heroic western protagonist – Hud Bannon is, quite frankly, an awful person and he does some awful things to innocent people, not being aware of the ramification his selfish actions have on others. However, none of these characters is particularly likeable – Homer Bannon is short-tempered and stubborn and Lonnie is too foolish and holds onto the idealistic delusions of youth. Only Alma comes out as being relatively good-mannered and grounded, despite having her own shortcomings. Yet these characters, as imperfect as they may appear, are real and the most admirable aspect of Hud is its inexplicable honesty in representing these characters and their motivations. Martin Ritt has simultaneously made a very effective western film and also deconstructed the genre, exposing some of its most glaring flaws, and quietly subverting them without venturing off into being outright contradictory to the spirit of the western – Hud certainly has the bare-bones structure of any traditional western – a flawed hero has to overcome his own personal quandaries to solve some problem and restore harmony to the Wild West. The difference is that Hud is more contemporary, and the issues our hero has to face are far less simple than the kidnapping of a maiden, or the catching of a dangerous outlaw, becoming increasingly relevant to social, political and economic climate at the time this film was made, and remaining overtly so to this day.

Hud is less a film about the proverbial “Wild West” and is more about resonant and current themes – for example, at the core, we are introduced to the concept of family. The film focuses on three generations of the Bannon clan – with all three men being very different, but still be united in some unspoken bond, even if there is deep-rooted animosity beneath the surface. The climax of this film proves that the constant bickering and arguing were for nothing because while there is certainly some differences between them when all is said and done, they understand that wherever life leads someone, regardless of the differences we feel, there is always family. However, this is a theme we’ve seen many times before – and where Hud diverges is in how it tackles timely subject matter – urbanization is a central theme to the film, even if it is never foregrounded, with pivotal moments such as the threat of the Bannon ranch being liquidated if it fails to thrive after the culling of the cattle, and the encroaching rise of oil as one of the world’s most profitable industry, providing a lot of the thematic background to this film. Even on a smaller scale, this is a film about three generations separated by their age, as demonstrated in the use of technology – Homer prefers travelling by horse (which eventually leads to his demise), and Lonnie is never without his radio, often being told to turn it off by older characters. These are subtle indications of the gap between these men, and represent that they are not only different because of their conflicting beliefs and motivations, but also through broader social factors.

I have always been curious about Hud, yet there was not much urgency to seek it out, because it seemed to be not much other than a subversion of the western. What I didn’t realize was how great this film actually was – it is certainly a very subtle achievement, and right from the outset, we are blown away – it is a very tranquil film, one more concerned with developing the characters as opposed to the storyline, which is good, but hardly remarkable. Moreover, the visual aesthetic of the film is magnificent – filmed in gorgeous black and white, it foregrounds the struggle of these characters in a bleak landscape which is arid, lonely and cold-hearted, yet one where warmth and tenderness can be found, but only through the empathy of the individuals occupying it. It is understandable why Hud hasn’t been seen as a definitive American masterpiece – it is far too humble and unassuming, always opting for the more metaphysical, philosophical approach as opposed to demanding attention – ultimately it defies the genre’s simplistic conventions by showing that real life is not made up of binary heroes and villains, rather noting how there are elements of both in all of us. Hud deserves revisiting, because not only is it a beautiful film, visually and narratively, it has a plethora of themes that are starkly resonant, and show us a side of the western genre hardly portrayed with such willful force. Truly a great film, and one in dire need of introduction to modern audiences as a unique subversion of a familiar genre.