by Frank Calvillo
Fandor Files
Welcome to the Fandor Files, a monthly series featuring the best from Fandor.com, one of today’s top streaming sites showcasing the best of classic titles, independent films, and insightful documentaries. Each month, we’ll take a look at a pair of selections linked by a common thread, illustrating important parts of history and society.
July 16 marks the 109th birthday of screen legend Barbara Stanwyck, the iconic actress whose ferocious and captivating screen persona remains one of the most unequaled to this day. Often referred to as “the best actress who never won an Oscar,” Stanwyck’s career was one full of incredible milestones, from being one of the top leading ladies during the infamous pre-code Hollywood era in the early 30s, to becoming the grand dame of film noir in the 40s and one of the first women to receive the Life Achievement Award from the American Film Institute. Along the way the actress cemented her status as an icon through a variety of now-classic films including Double Indemnity, The Lady Eve, Ball of Fire, Stella Dallas and Christmas in Connecticut, picking up four Oscar nominations and enthralling both the critical media and the general public with her piercing stare, one-of-a-kind line delivery and, most of all, the unrivaled energy she brought to every role.
By the 1950s, however, the screen image that had become synonymous with the actress was now squarely at odds with the more traditional fare of 50s Hollywood. Stanwyck’s penchant for playing bad girls and liberated women were almost nowhere to be seen during this time of traditional mores and customs. But that wouldn’t stop a determined and dedicated actress of Stanwyck’s caliber who agreed to star in a slew of B-movies in an effort to sink her teeth into what she felt was a meaty role. In this edition of the Fandor Files, we celebrate Stanwyck’s passion for the image of the fearless screen heroine with two titles from the era, the melodrama Escape to Burma and the western Cattle Queen of Montana.
It’s hard to ignore the various similarities between the two films. Aside from the fact that both share the same director, Allan Dwan, the two plots have a tendency to mirror each other. In Escape to Burma, Stanwyck plays Gwen Moore, a plantation owner who takes in an American wrongly accused of murder (Robert Ryan), risking both her business and her reputation, while as Sierra Nevada Jones in Cattle Queen of Montana, the actress has eyes for Ronald Reagan, who unfortunately is employed by the devious rancher who has killed her father and taken their land, thus forcing her to fight for what is hers.
As far as the films themselves were concerned, both titles prove as B-movie as they come. There are gaping holes in the plots, white actors playing ethnic characters, and an overall feeling that each production was shot in two weeks. The lone fact which sets both films apart from other B-movies of the day was the way each one tackled race. In Escape to Burma, the Burmese people were seen as employees of Stanwyck’s character, and yet she treated them not as slaves, but rather individuals who were no better than her. Meanwhile, in Cattle Queen of Montana, the relationship Stanwyck’s character develops with the local Indian tribe is squarely at odds with that of the locals who view them as savages. No doubt such ideologies must have appealed to Stanwyck’s boundary-pushing sensibility.
It would have been entirely justifiable to write off the two films as insignificant entries in the Stanwyck canon for anyone not familiar with the kind of work the actress was drawn to. Both titles are a far cry from the lavish studio productions with which she was able to craft that particular screen image that made her a name. However, both Gwen and Sierra are undoubtedly Stanwyck characters through and through. Both are independent women, steadfast and fearless, who refuse to adhere to actions or rules they deem to be unfair to them or anyone else. The two are prosperous in business and in owning land, a definite rarity for female characters in the 50s, let alone in the respective times both films were set. Above all though, neither Gwen nor Sierra were afraid to feel, and the actress made sure of this by showing that both women were capable of female emotion and unflinching bravery. The films may have been thrown together for about $1.95 each, but when Stanwyck is delivering her lines, she may as well be in a top-level studio picture.
Stanwyck’s career in the following decades consisted of mainly television projects, including the popular western series The Big Valley (which my dad still loves) and the acclaimed miniseries The Thornbirds. Her film output may have been small after the 50s, with Walk on the Wild Side (in which she became one of the first actresses to play a lesbian on screen) and William Castle’s underrated horror/thriller The Night Walker as highlights. Yet Stanwyck is an actress whose legacy endures to this day, serving as a symbol of strength and determination for both actresses and everyday women. Happy birthday Ms. Stanwyck!
