The key to this film is ambiguity and subtlety, due in no small part to the distinctive direction of Nicholas Ray, a favourite auteur of the Cahiers du Cinema critics who later spearheaded the Nouvelle Vague, and who celebrated him as an independent voice in Hollywood, along with directors such as Douglas Sirk and Alfred Hitchcock.
The ambiguity of 'Johnny Guitar' is first apparent in the genre, or mix thereof. On the surface it's a western, but not like any other. The snappy dialogue sometimes verges on film noir territory, whilst the drama is played out like melodrama. This is largely down to the large female presence here, which ordinarily would be absent from Westerns. Inevitably for a women's film of this period, there is a melodramatic love story woven in, whilst the strong female characters come across almost as femmes fatale.
The story is not really Johnny Guitar's, but Vienna's, a woman sitting on some valuable land along the planned route for a new railway. Tension arises between her and another woman, Emma, who loves the local outlaw, Dancing Kid, who himself has designs on Vienna (Joan Crawford). Johnny Guitar (Sterling Hayden), meanwhile, is a figure from Vienna's past. The central conflict of the film is between these two women, specifically Emma, the driving force of the narrative with her resentment and anger towards Vienna. Her bitterness towards Vienna and the Kid makes her quick to blame them both after her brother's murder and a bank robbery (which Kid and his gang did actually commit), easily gathering a mob, which burns down Vienna's saloon and lynches the youngest member of Kid's gang, Turkey.
We're thrown into the thick of the action with all of the key characters appearing in the opening scene, and little context of who they are and their respective relationships. All is revealed over the next hour and a half before an exciting finale. Almost every scene is filled with tension, between women, women and men or men and men. The film has often been considered a classic feminist film but this isn't really the case. Although the women often control the action, Vienna quickly reverts back to submissive domesticity when she rekindles her love for Johnny, whilst Emma's strength sits uncomfortably beside her femininity, hence her violent reaction to her emotions. In one scene, in fact, whilst Kid and Johnny square up with testosterone-fuelled competitiveness, Vienna fries eggs.
Ray instead seeks to subvert the western in several ways. Most notable is the use of bright colours, in contrast to the more common black-and-white western of the period, and more familiar from Sirkian melodramas. Next is his clever use of costume, traditionally employed in westerns to distinguish the good from the bad, dressed in white and black respectively. In the case of 'Johnny Guitar', the morality of all characters is never so clear cut, and whilst the criminals of Kid's gang are brightly dressed, the supposedly law-abiding, ordinary citizens of the town are dressed in funereal black. Vienna herself becomes increasingly brighter and more feminine throughout, graduating from black shirt and trousers at the open to a flowing white dress at the apex.
The further ambiguity is present in the mob, entirely consisting of men aside from Emma, who lose heart when it comes to hanging Vienna for a crime that none of them really believe she committed. Their motivation comes from a desire to preserve their town, fearing that the railroad will bring immigrants and prosperity to Vienna's new town, a hidden narrative below the central plot. Various members are responsible for hanging Turkey, shooting and killing Tom (Vienna's loyal companion), and allowing Vienna's saloon to burn to the ground. It isn't until they infiltrate the Kid's hideout that they admit that, rather than growing angrier and angrier, they are now tired and hungry and want no more killing. Seemingly they can't keep up with the women.
There are fantastic moments in this film, such as when Kid's gang are trying to make their escape while the mountains explode around them, blown up by the railway engineers; or when Emma leads the mob into Kid's hideout, all black in their funeral suits, soaking wet from the waterfall that covers the entrance, her voice echoing in the ravine. Unfortunately, the film is a little dated and the slightly melodramatic acting can sometimes distract from the atmospheric direction. I can't help feeling that this film made today would be far more moody and absorbing, like the recent and brilliant 'The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford', a character that Ray also explored in his later film, 'The True Story of Jesse James'.
'Johnny Guitar', however, sees Ray at the mid-point in his career and at his most distinctive. He was always a very independent and controversial director within the studio system, and was able to make some innovative and personal films that are widely remembered today. 'Rebel Without a Cause' is perhaps his most famous and most accessible, but his entire ouevre is worth investigating, not just for himself but also to see the influence he exerted over filmmakers such as Wim Wenders and Jim Jarmusch.
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