Hud

This gloomy western mix of charred ambitions and bitter generational conflict reminds me of a Depression-era Steinbeck novel. Harsh and uncompromising, it boasts a bevy of complex characters, hard truths and tragic ends; the familiar example of a dying way of life and the unfortunate circumstances that hastened its end. In Hud’s unflinching perspective, good folk and bad are equally ground under the heels of a rigid, changing world. As if the Joads had stuck around in the dust bowl and let a lifetime of resentment simmer between them. Sometimes you’re just damned, no matter what you do. The title character, a charismatic scoundrel, wayward son and corruptive influence, uses that truth as an excuse to look out for number one. Paul Newman plays the part with appropriate abandon, alternately drawing admiration with his unruly charisma and scorn with his cold, selfish actions. Introduced on the doorstep of a married woman, Hud drives recklessly, incites drunken brawls, chases dishonorable spoils and clashes repeatedly with his doggedly ethical father. Melvyn Douglas is powerful in that supporting role: the stubborn, deeply principled patriarch who’s getting on in years but won’t trust the family ranch to his loser son or his unseasoned grandson. This trio is accompanied to the brink of financial crisis by a tough, worldly live-in housekeeper and object of lonesome desire, Alma (Patricia Neal). She’s not quite a knockout, but her smoldering gaze, impish smirk and playful willingness to give as good as she gets makes her an attractive option for both Hud and the awkward, almost-grown nephew (Brandon deWilde) who looks up to him. It’s a tale told with honesty and very little sentimentality. Most of the cast doesn’t change on a personal level, but the terms of their relationships do. Though it’s the forces beyond their control that drive this dire little family to the breaking point, in the end, each member lies in a bed they’ve made for themselves. Sad but authentic, and crushingly forthright. Special kudos to James Wong Howe, whose Oscar-winning cinematography depicts the stark desolation and dusty expanse of life in the Texas panhandle as a versatile character unto itself.