Seeing Donovan's Reef in my queue was all I needed to saunter down memory lane with the Duke (John Wayne/Marion Michael Morrison) and crew - Jack Warden, Lee Marvin, and Elizabeth Allen to French Polynesia, shot in Kauai, governed by Cesar Romero, shepherded by Father Cluzeot, and told with humor even though the themes are corporate greed and bigotry. John Ford set up his usual John Wayne setup with fights and a real international brawl between Australian navy and the Yankee navy (Wayne and Marvin) with one Australian lad evening the odds by turning his hat around and fighting for the Yanks until a winner is declared.
Donovan's Reef is fun and breezy, some amateur critics call it a lazy film, though I doubt the viewers or the actors would agree, and tackles the issues of corporate greed and prejudice, issues that plague us still, though I doubt the Polynesians would have called the Yanks in residence after the end of World War II an immigration problem or would have been xenophobic about them setting up shop with their saloon, shipping business, or hospital with a doctor who makes regular island calls and built a hospital that also trains nurses. From the beauty of the island and the seeming happiness of the Polynesian natives (girls of course), I doubt there was any problems with fitting in and becoming integrated into the society and population. One might say that Father Cluzeot fits in very well even though as a Roman Catholic priest he has centuries of experience in integrating whatever culture the people possess into his world view. The Romans before him and the Roman Catholic Church after the Roman Empire's fall were well versed in insinuating themselves into other indigenous peoples' lives and society even if priests had to change the society to suit Roman Catholicism.
Rome had become adept at making Rome the heart of any people and country, by war at first and then by eradicating any pagan ideology and writings even if Rome had to replace anti-Roman views with more Rome friendly views. Much of this Romanization was accomplished by rewriting any documentation and history they found (hiding the originals where possible in the Vatican archives) and adopting the foreign views and religions into their own pantheon. If you believe what is written in the Aeneid, the Trojans hid themselves from the Greeks, and eventually conquering the Greeks when they became the all powerful and far reaching Roman Empire, by landing in the Italian peninsula and becoming allied with the Etruscans and forming the first origins of Romulus and Remus and the she-wolf that suckled them (Romulus eventually killing Remus) to rise to the pinnacle of the brand new Roman society and conquering much of the known Western world, maybe even to the point of eradicating the Etruscans that first gave them a home and assistance.
At any rate, Father Cluzeot was more interested in feeding, clothing, and aiding the poor than in using monies donated specifically for the restoration of the church's roof. As Father Cluzeot continued to say, "The poor are still with us," when he let everyone, especially the donors, know the poor came first in his mind even if it meant praying in a church with gaping holes that did not keep the torrential winter rains out. Better to take care of the poor than to patch the roof that would eventually sprout more holes with more torrential winter rains in future years. The poor always came first with Father Cluzeot just as the ailing came first with Dr. Dedham.
Donovan's Reef is the usual formulaic John Wayne story where there is a central issue to deal with and at least one brawl/fight to stage and get through. Even watching this favorite movie after years of it sitting on my video shelf, I was struck by the anguished cry "Because we're not white," as if being Polynesian is as strong a prejudice in Yankee minds as being black or Oriental or Hispanic. Maybe in 1963 during the height of the civil rights struggle in America Polynesians were as likely to be shunned in society as blacks, Asians, or Hispanics, but I doubt it. I lived during those time, living specifically in Panama on a U.S. Army base, and the thought that Polynesians were prejudiced against was as foreign to me as Panamanians being anything but welcome. Okay, we had two black maids who worked for us and were paid well, but they were still family to me because as a child living in foreign countries following my father from Army base to Army base around the world it never occurred to me they were less acceptable than our neighbors or the kids I played with on and off base. To a child like me brought up around the world, people were people and beautiful and smiling people were people to get to know and invite home. I didn't know my parents were bigots until nearly half a century later.
Well, that's not completely true. I knew my mother was a bigot when I was a teenager and she went ballistic when she discovered a party and the subsequent slumber party I attended were at a black friend's house. That discovery led to a life long running argument between Mom and me that friends were friends whatever their color and spending the night with a friend was just spending the night with a girlfriend whatever her color because for me then -- and now -- friendship doesn't count whether or not the friend has a better -- or deeper -- tan than I do, except where their tan is darker than mine and I feel pale by comparison.
Mom's response was that spending the night with blacks was inviting trouble which is why she never slept over or visited with a black family friend when on vacation -- and they, if they were her friend wouldn't come to visit on vacation and expect to spend the night in her home. If they were her friend they knew to go to a hotel or motel.
I never understood that and believed Dad would have agreed with me (I later found out how wrong I was -- much later) that a friend is a friend is a friend and color is not a factor. Dad probably rolled over in his grave, as did Mom, because my nephew, J. C., married Ebony and they have a new baby girl as of last year. Ebony, like her name, is black. Dad threw a fit when J. C. took to their senior prom . . . because she was black. That's when I found out my father was a bigot. I knew Mom was a bigot from my teenage years because she despised Asians, especially the Japanese. Dad had been stationed in Korea twice during his 22 years in the Army and Mom openly loathed Asians because Dad had nearly married a Japanese during his first tour in Korea when he went to Japan on R & R and had a child with the woman. Mom's prejudice, I thought, was born out of her jealousy of Dad's previous love and the love of his bi-racial daughter even though her family refused to sanction Dad's marriage to her mother because he was white, a round eye. At least with the Japanese, they didn't give their bi-racial children to the Roman Catholic monastery nearby and raised those bi-racial children in their own homes with their Asian relatives. Bigotry comes from every race and is most often the burden and shame of the younger generations -- if they know about it at all.
At any rate, Lelani's anguished cry still gets to me with the same emotions -- why? She's not someone who should be the source of bigotry then or now, but I am probably still naive in that way. Even at 62, the only bigotry I am aware of is prejudice against Islam because Islam, like the Roman Empire before them, brings death and pain with it. Even the Roman Catholic Church embodies death and pain, not only in their worship of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, but in their more violent episodes where the Church sanctioned and even authorized the death of nonbelievers.
It doesn't make sense to me -- then or now. Killing believers or those fallen away from the faith is no way to win friends or influence people to your side nor does closing a blind eye to priests abusing children, sexually, emotionally, or physically, let alone refusing to acknowledge the world isn't full of people who choose to love -- and marry -- those of their own gender. In the end, love is at the center of controversy with homosexuality in practice and belief, and was once so accepted in the Roman Catholic Church's earlier history that priests performed marriage ceremonies between same-sex couples and celebrated homosexual liaisons. I guess being a pagan was less an issue among homosexuals than Christianity has been. Better to follow the Greeks with their different words and designations for love. If there is love, then nothing involving that love can be wrong -- or should be wrong -- even if there are different words for love as long as love is the central emotion. I believe the Cosmic Creator would agree.
So here we are with a formulaic John Wayne movie where love triumphs, whether it is love between a saloon singer and a booze hound-fist fight loving and practicing hooligan like Gilhooley (Lee Marvin), a Boston socialite and ex-war veteran turned shipping owner and operator who also owns a saloon, and that same strait-laced Boston socialite and the half-caste Polynesian-American children from her father's second marriage to Manulani, the hereditary Polynesian princess of Haleakaloa. Love is all that matters.
I would take exception to the spanking that "Guns" Donovan dealt to Amelia Dedham even though said spanking is reminiscent of John Wayne and his female costars (Maureen O'Hara in The Silent Man and McClintock!) and his macho attitude toward women. Good thing, even with a fireplace shovel, the spankings he dole out were more humorous than painful -- or fatal as in the case with Muslim women and Shari'a law among those supporting Islamic rule.
In spite of being an atheist and my views on Jesus Christ, I was quite emotional during the Christmas mass at Father Cluzeot's church on Xmas eve. I was feeling nostalgic and touched by the music and the Yule season than any affection for the celebration of the lie that has persisted for 2000 years. I was a child brought up with the Nativity and Mary and Joseph ending up in a stable to give birth to their child. I am just as vulnerable as anyone who hears the myth of Jesus Christ and the midwinter nativity as any pagan which is why the story resonates for so many. It is akin to the stories at the heart of their own religions, which is not so surprising since it was created by Emperor Titus and supported by the Roman Catholic Church for 2000 years and the Romans knew how to adapt local customs and beliefs to fit their own pantheon and control. After so long, it is easy to get it right and to turn enemies minds to a more favorable position . . . even if you have to lie. At least in that regard, Islam and the Muslims have it down pat. Taqiyya is the recognized Islamic tool just as Christianity has been practicing their lies without the openly acknowledged version or a name that is synonymous with lies, unless you consider Nativity and Lent and crucifixion the same as Taqiyya. When lies are at the center, anything goes.
That is all. Disperse.
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