Angie Lowe (Geraldine Page) and her son Johnny (Lee Aaker) live on a secluded ranch in the middle of the mountains, surrounded by Apache lodges, which would normally not bode well for settlers, since they were living in a time when there was enormous tension between Native Americans and European settlers. However, Angie has an agreement with the local tribes that they will remain peaceful and compliant, their treaty allowing the Apache to make use of some of the ranch’s natural resources, in exchange for not becoming the victim of their radical actions against their supposed natural enemies. This brings great comfort to Angie, who has been patiently awaiting the return of her husband from the mountains – deep in her heart, she knows he is never returning, as his volatile nature and the fact that he is something of a troublemaker, making it very likely that he found himself on the other end of an Apache arrow. This is only further complicated by the arrival of Hondo Lane (John Wayne), who comes from across the horizon seeking a horse and a good meal, only to pique the interest of the lonely woman, who finds something both endearing and repulsive in their new visitor. Not understanding the conditions of her treaty with the local tribes (or at least not believing it to be as infallible as she makes it out to be), Hondo insists Angie and Johnny accompany him to safety on the other side of the mountains – but Angie has other plans, and refuses to leave. The growing presence of the Apache around their ranch – including their loose-cannon leader Vittoro (Michael Pate) – doesn’t even dissuade her from leaving, as she believes in the value of embracing each individual challenge, rather than living in fear. 

John Wayne was such a charismatic actor, even a film as straightforward and simple as Hondo (which was essentially designed entirely to be a vehicle for the actor) turns out to be an essential piece of filmmaking, based solely on his ability to lead a film like no one else. Unfortunately, it isn’t nearly as well-known as most of the other work Wayne did during the 1950s, his most prolific period as both an actor and producer, but it doesn’t stop it from being a memorable excursion into the Old West, which served as the home for many of The Duke’s most unforgettable performances. Based on the novel by Louis L’Amour, the master of western storytelling and someone whose very name is considered the gold standard when it comes to the subject, and masterfully directed by the versatile John Farrow, a filmmaker who proved he was far more than a “director-for-hire”, with his authorial voice coming through in every one of his productions, Hondo is a special film, but one that doesn’t always earn the credit it probably deserves, even when it is at its most riveting. The kind of western film that reminds us exactly why the genre reigned supreme for many decades, and continues to be a source of both excitement and comfort, whether it be for those nostalgic for the days when a major star, a horse and an arid landscape could be the setting for the most captivating stories, or for those discovering the genre and finding value in these tales of the American heartland, often taken from a sincerely patriotic, historically-resonant point of view. Regardless of where one stands, Hondo remains one of the firmest and most endearing entries into a long line of captivating westerns.

I’ve always maintained that, despite their radical popularity for most of the 20th century, westerns are a divisive genre – for some, they’re the most solid and reliable form of filmmaking, but for others they border on unbearable, with their trite stories, over-the-top machismo and general predictability making them frustrating for those who wanted more substance in a film. However, there are certain films that are made for the express purpose of appealing to those that may not particularly this kind of film – and one doesn’t even need to look into the rise of neo-westerns or revisionist takes on the genre to see something unique. Hondo, for as simple as its premise may be, is one of the best encapsulations of why traditional westerns, at their peak, could be as enthralling and meaningful as absolutely anything else. These stories are potent and endearing, and if we can look past the fact that they’re often following a specific pattern, we tend to find value in even the most expected situations. Perhaps its the fact that Farrow wasn’t someone who necessarily specialized in this kind of filmmaking – he had actually only previously directed one western (the Barbara Stanwyck vehicle, California), so it’s possible to attribute the originality of this film to the humanity at its heart, the kind of character-driven candour that is spread liberally throughout the film, frequently coming into close contact with the beautifully-shot action sequences that prove what a master of his craft Farrow was (even if the climactic scenes were ghost-directed by John Ford, brought onto the film by Wayne to assist in these final moments), and how he could pull together a solid film from very simple material.

Hondo is a formidable film, in both style and substance. This isn’t the most common quality of many westerns, since they often veer towards one or the other. Farrow had a keen eye for detail, and even when helming a John Wayne vehicle (which really tended to direct themselves, as long as the director put the camera on The Duke and kept it there for as long as it was necessary), he brought so much artistic resonance to the proceedings. At a brief 84 minutes, it’s easy to look at this as a slight entry into the genre – but when we realize that absolutely every one of these moments is essential and filled to the brim with brilliant filmmaking, the easier it is to understand why this is a stealthy masterpiece of genre filmmaking. The balance between the story of the conflict between the white man and his supposed natural enemy, the Native American, and the very human element that punctuates the film, leads Hondo to have some captivating conversations – there are no heroes or villains in this film, with every character (perhaps with the exception of those played by Geraldine Page and Lee Aaker) having shades of both good and evil, depending on the situation. This is a film that shows true compassion to its characters, rather than using them as the vital but uninteresting pawns in its broader attempts to show the conflict at the heart of the story. Farrow’s ability to bring out both tension and humour in every situation, and still make this film out to be a quintessentially human story, is staggering and show be noted just as much as the action-filled sequences that occur sporadically have been celebrated. He was a tremendous filmmaker whose name is often associated less with quality and more for its prolific output – but when we see a film like Hondo, it’s easy to understand why he was perpetually employed, since he had a real skillfulness when it came to directing.

As we get further away from the tension at the heart of Hondo, and look back at it from a broader perspective, we see how incredibly complex it actually is. This isn’t a simple western – it’s a touching story of overcoming adversity and fighting against injustice. It has commentary on fatherhood, race relations and early American conflict, a subject many films produced at this time often viewed through the lens of one group being superior, and the other nothing but a group of absolute savages, which is something that Farrow and his cohorts here are actively fighting against, their intention being one centred on providing insights into both sides of the divide, as well as momentarily reconciling them in a way that feels quite genuine. Hondo isn’t a perfect film, nor is it one that ever really has much of a statement to make outside of what we see on the surface. Yet, the intricate details at the heart of the story, the beautiful filmmaking and the exceptional performances (Wayne is as charming as ever, but its Page and her incredible control of character, especially in a genre that doesn’t often afford a point of view to female characters, being the heart of the film), all make Hondo very close to a masterpiece, a western that is profoundly modern in its sensibilities, while remaining as traditional as possible in the execution. It’s a deft, daring piece of filmmaking, and a wonderful reason to just be entertained by the solid, enjoyable antics of one of the genre’s finest stars and his creative collaborators who understand how to keep us on the edge of our seats.