Two Rode Together

Considering the massive amount of directorial credits on his resume, John Ford has been very well represented on home video. Those of us lucky enough to own the Ford at Fox box set probably have the best vantage point, but Warner has put out a few impressive collections of their own, including several versions of The Searchers, Ford’s most respected film in the modern era.

How ironic then that one of his least respected films, Two Rode Together, a sequel to The Searchers in most respects, now moseys onto blu-ray in a 3000-copy limited release courtesy of Twilight Time, a company whose creative principals were the driving force behind many of those aforementioned special editions.

Released in 1961 at a low point in Ford’s professional career, the film is just as loose and sloppy as many critics make it out to be. But with that much filmmaking experience behind him, even on cruise control Ford navigates the choppy story towards a few interesting vistas and memorable moments between characters who’ve drifted far afield of the honorable code of the West.

Marshal Guthrie McCabe (Jimmy Stewart) has a pretty sweet set-up, taking ten-percent off the top from almost every business in town. But his life of leisure is interrupted by Lt. Jim Gary (Richard Widmark), a straight-up soldier who recruits the legendary lawman to help track down some long lost white captives from a Comanche chief, Quanah Parker (Henry Brandon, playing a very rough version of the real-life half-breed Native American historical figure).

Like Ethan Edwards in The Searchers, Guthrie doesn’t believe there’s much humanity left to be saved. In a drunken rant (delivered to a young and pretty Shirley Jones) he gives a detailed account of what the Comanche do to their young captives and makes it clear that any civilization they brought into camp has been wiped away. It’s a good speech delivered with gusto by Stewart. So is his sleazy attempt to bilk the desperate families out of their savings in return for rescuing their loved ones.

But for every step forward, the film takes two steps back. Ford shoots most of Stewart and Widmark’s scenes in long uninterrupted takes of tedious dialogue. His usual stock company of actors (Woody Strode, Harry Carey Jr., etc.) pop up in forgettable roles with little to do or say. Even Frank Nugent’s script plays like a “greatest hits” compilation stitched together on the set. It all has the feel of a man just trying to get a job done in the most economical manner possible.

But the film’s dark and jaded view of the West is a direct precursor to Ford’s more elegiac treatment of the same ideas in his next film, the masterful The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. And while Two Rode Together may suffer in terms of a script, the camera can’t help but fall upon some gorgeous scenery and typically well-composed campfire portraits of the West as Ford has come to create it. For students of film history, even Ford’s failures usually bring something to light.

Twilight Time’s blu-ray is another spectacular-looking transfer of a catalog title the major studios have ignored. The colors glow with a fresh-from-the-box sharpness one wouldn’t think was possible for a film of this era. Extras include the theatrical trailer, an isolated score track and wonderful liner notes from Julie Kirgo. The limited edition is available only at .