Like many people from my generation, The Ox-Bow Incident was required reading while I was in junior high. Unfortunately, I had not learned by that time that I had a condition where I struggled with reading retention unless I heard the prose being read out loud. Even now, I understand books a lot better if they are in the form of an audiobook. Consequently, while I remember reading Walter Van Tilburg Clark’s The Ox-Bow Incident, I have no recollection of the novel itself. So for the last couple of years, I have anxiously awaited seeing this film so I could go back and revisit this story and maybe even pick up on some of what I originally read all those years ago.
What I wasn’t prepared for was a sparse, yet dense examination of justice and blame and a tale that puts it plainly exactly why we have a justice system in place. The burden of proof lies in the accuser, and we are innocent until proven guilty. In the early days of the American frontier, it was simpler to just raise up a posse and commit what was called frontier justice, but such a thing could easily punish the innocent without due process. And who punishes the punishers should they get it wrong? This was a popular topic to examine in the myriad of television westerns like Gunsmoke, The Lone Ranger, and Rawhide.
Our point-of-view character is Gil Carter (Henry Fonda). He and Art Croft (Harry Morgan) arrive at a saloon in Bridger’s Wells, Nevada. Soon afterwards, news arrives that a rancher, Larry Kinkaid, has been murdered, and his cattle stolen. The townspeople immediately form a large posse to pursue the murderers, taking advantage of the sheriff’s absence to forgo the need for due process. Several prominent citizens join the posse, including Major Tetley (Frank Conroy) in his Civil War uniform, and his son Gerald (William Eythe). Gil and Art join the posse, too.
When news reaches the group that three men have entered Ox-Bow Canyon, the posse captures them and finds they have several heads of cattle bearing Kinkaid’s brand. Assuming these are the murderers, it is determined to hang them rather than take them in. These men include Donald Martin (Dana Andrews), a well-spoken man with a young family waiting for him at home; a Mexican, Juan Martínez (Anthony Quinn); and an old man, Alva Hardwicke (Francis Ford), who is clearly senile. Donald insists that they purchased the cattle from Kinkaid but, without a bill of sale, cannot prove it. Knowing he may die soon, he pleads to the posse to allow him to at least write a letter to his wife back home. Tetley, who has taken command of the posse, allows it, in part to draw out the execution, allowing him to savor the moment.
We read about incidents in the justice system where someone was sentenced who was later proven innocent. In these cases, large settlements are made to repay the lifetime lost in prison. But how do you make amends when the accused has been put to death? You simply can’t. An eye for an eye doesn’t bring back the husband to his grieving widow. No punishment meted out will dry up the tears of his children back home. A lifetime of guilt and remorse will haunt the men who carried out the sentence, but that won’t appease those who were hurt the most by the actions of the posse. When the sheriff arrives, too late to stop the executions his words to the posse are damning. “God better have mercy on you. You won’t get any from me.” This film is a social exercise in mob mentality, but it is also commentary for those who may not fully understand why our legal system is the way that it is. This is a brilliant examination of the subject, and it manages to do it in barely over an hour.
While Henry Fonda is top-billed, he’s really just along for the ride as part of a great ensemble of character actors. He gets the center stage at the beginning but disappears into the crowd for most of the middle portion, only reemerging for the finale where he gets to read out loud the letter Donald wrote to his wife, using the words to shame and humble the once-brazen and bloodthirsty men in the posse. This could have been a throwaway part, but Fonda brings some gravitas to it that is subtle and doesn’t call too much attention to itself. Harry Morgan, as his partner and friend, is even more subtle to the point that, were it not for his familiar face and voice, the character would almost completely fly under the radar.
We may not live in the Old West anymore, but the idea of acting as judge, jury, and executioner without the benefits of due process is very much in the news again, making a film like this suddenly timely. It’s about time for this film to reenter the cultural consciousness so that some people will take a good, long look at what they are doing and saying and perhaps realize that this is a country of law and order. Perhaps that is just wishful thinking on my part, but it seems that this message needs to be heard now more than ever.
It often amazes me when I discover a film from the early days of the movies that speaks to social topics that are still relevant. It feels like this world is cyclical, and we get around to the same issues again every so often and need to be reminded why it is wrong. The 1940s was all about fascism in Europe and defending people’s rights to exist. Jailing or executing someone without due process of the law seems like something from the distant past, yet it happened back then and is happening again. The Ox-Bow Incident provides an extreme example of mob mentality leading to the death of the innocent, and while it is fiction, we can easily see modern-day examples of this very thing still happening in one form or another. It makes for powerful drama, but more importantly, it gives you reason to pause and think about the truths on display here.
Academy Award Nomination:
Outstanding Motion Picture: Lamar Trotti
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Release Date: May 21, 1943
Running Time: 75 Minutes
Not Rated
Starring: Henry Fonda and Dana Andrews
Directed by: William A. Wellman
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