The Lone Ranger

Growing up in rural Indiana, I didn't receive the most accurate history education.  In that wonderful Red State, most elementary teachers pass on only the most simplified version of history.  Thomas Jefferson was a great guy.  He could write very well.  Thomas Edison was a genius.  He invented the light bulb.  Look at the ceiling; everything would be dark without that forward thinking inventor.  Later in my life, I discovered that these histories were more fiction than fact.  Wait, Thomas Jefferson owned slaves?  That's weird...Thomas Edison was just a dick who stole other people's ideas?  Bummer.  Over time, I learned that the distance between legend and fact is truly large.

Ours is a country built on simplified legends.  The pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock and became best buddies with the indigenous population.  The founding fathers broke away from England because of a desire for freedom.  And, in the wild, savage lands of the American West, lone gunmen tamed the arid landscape into a prosperous, civilized country.  What a wonderful fantasy.  Here was a time when all men carried shooting irons on their hips.  If we had guns on our hips today, there would obviously be violence in America because the good guys would just shoot the bad guys. Simple.  The Native Americans were all savages so it was only self defense when we so generously gifted them with smallpox-infected blankets.  Wait. . . For many people in America, the Wild West days are days to be longed for.  Times were simpler then, and good Christian men could walk down the street with their heads held high.

The Western can be a dangerous genre because it can reinforce our nationalistic feelings of righteousness and destinies made manifest.  On the other hand, the Western can do so much more.  It can explore the time when half our country was civilized by railroad barons, hard men, and Christian missionaries.  In the stripped-bare environment of the American West, the themes of civilization, law, and nationalism come easily to the forefront. In the great Westerns of John Ford, Anthony Mann, and Sam Peckinpah, the directors consider the blurred line between myth and reality.  Films like The Searchers, Winchester '73, and The Wild Bunch show that America was founded by violent men and that bad guys don't always wear black.

On this Fourth of July, the release of an epic Western was, at first, worrying,  Seeing the trailers for The Lone Ranger, I'll admit that I was skeptical.  I expected this to be some eye-rolling, pro-America trash.  I'm happy to say I was proven wrong.  Gore Verbinski's latest blockbuster displays a critical and nuanced vision of the American West.  While there are some offensive ethnic representations, the Native Americans are more than noble savages or murderous braves and the railroad tycoons have more in mind than just Western expansion.  At a time of year when we celebrate our great nation, it is good to be reminded that our country was founded by strong men stealing the land and resources of weaker men.

Since the ideologies of The Lone Ranger are so pleasing, it is sad that the movie isn't better.  It falls into the all-familiar Hollywood trap of homage overshadowing original narrative.  If you are looking for a mosaic of classic Western references, look no further than The Lone Ranger.  Verbinski makes nods to a number of Western films.  In the beginning of the film, a missionary choir warbles through the hymn "Shall We Gather at the River."  Fans of the genre will remember this hymn from nearly every Sam Peckinpah film.  On his train ride into Texas, Armee Hammer reads a law book, a familiar image from The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Hans Zimmer's score takes numerous cues from the films scores of Ennio Morricone.  The film feels like a mash-up of the best of the genre and has nothing new to offer.

The narrative is simple, but narrative efficiency is not the name of the game in The Lone Ranger.  With a clunky, unfunny frame story and weak character exposition stuffed into the first act, the story takes a long time to get up to speed.  It's like some old steam engine trying to chug-chug-chug through a boring story.  Thinking back on the film, not much happens.  There are some shoot-outs and speeding horses, but these action set pieces are few and far between.  They are broken up by what feels like hours of the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding through the desert.  They talk. A lot. And it's boring.

When the action does happen, it is mostly exciting.  This has always been Verbinski's strong suit.  In the original Pirates of the Caribbean, he recaptured the charm of a Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn swashbuckling adventure.  While The Lone Ranger never reaches the heights of that film, it has some memorable moments.  The two heroes outrun a burning, flipping steam-engine.  The Lone Ranger rides his horse, Silver, over buildings and onto the top of a moving train.  Bullets whiz and pop off rocks and iron walls.  Verbinski shows that he still has a firm grasp on action movie filmmaking.

As in all of Verbinski's films, the production design is the true highlight.  Like Ridley Scott, Verbinski jams the frame with costumes, props, and witty details.  Verbinski was lucky to have production designer Jess Gonchor on his team. Gonchor is no stranger to the Western.  Having applied his talents to No Country for Old Men and True Grit, he was the perfect choice for The Lone Ranger.  Every set is filled with visual flourishes and the costumes exhibit more character than the actors.  Gonchor's design for a travelling sideshow/brothel is particularly striking.  Old painted signs span the main thoroughfare and painted ladies swing from the ceiling.  Fire and gaslight give the scene a warm, sepia glow.  The whole film is covered in a fine layer of grit and, like the films of Sam Peckinpah; The Lone Ranger is a very tactile film.  I could feel the heat on my skin and the sand in my shoes.  For all its faults, it is an immersive film.

Verbinski's other strong suit has always been off-beat characters.  Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow is one of the great original film characters of recent years.  In The Lone Ranger, Verbinski and Depp have attempted to create another weird and funny sidekick in the figure of Tonto.  Depp lends his usual grace and comedic physicality to the role, but Tonto never really gets anywhere as a character.  He comes across more as somewhat racist caricature and his constant goofy gestures become annoying.  Armee Hammer offers no help.  Hammer was decent in The Social Network, but he has failed to impress me since then.  His turn as John Reid in The Lone Ranger is flat and laughable.  True, he is good looking and his teeth are pearly white.  Did they have whitening strips back then?  He delivers his lines in an earnest manner and kills every joke before it leaves his lips.  He has perhaps the best diction I have ever seen.  He bites off every word and he could definitely say "Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers" ten times fast.  You can sure understand everything he has to say, but you don't really want to.

In the end, it's just bloated and boring.  It's disappointing because Verbinski's Oscar-winning Rango was a wonderful tribute to the Western as well as an entertaining story.  The Lone Ranger could use a sweat suit and trash bags like the wrestlers at my high school used to wear.  Maybe it could sweat off some of the excess and find its narrative again.  Still, it's nice to know that audiences will maybe be asked to think about their history in a more critical way.  Maybe they will pause, sparkler in hand, and consider everyone who has fallen under the march of Western progress.  Or, maybe they'll just strap a shiny gun to their hip and walk around Wal-Mart, just like they did in the Old West.