High Noon

**When a film becomes a manifesto of political discontent.** Usually, we are used to seeing extremely virile western films, full of masculine strength and American pride. And in fact the “cowboy” is a symbol of American strength and persistence: he is a loner, individualist, independent, who faces the most arduous situations with tenacity and ingenuity. However, this film is much sadder and even darker: faced with the arrival of a fearsome bandit, willing to take revenge for having been arrested, the sheriff of a Wild West village, who is about to be relieved of his post after a few years of very good and selfless service to the community, asks everyone for help and everyone leaves him to his fate, they even laugh at him! At a certain point, even his wife, the person he cares the most, seems willing to leave him alone in the face of danger. Is it somber enough? To understand this bitter vision, we need to go back in time and revisit the entire creative process that led to the film's conception. In 1952, the USA was far from being a calm country: while most people feared the expansion of the Soviet threat in the world, Senator McCarthy led a true “commie hunt” in the State apparatus and in cultural and social life because of alleged anti-American activities by members and supporters of the Communist Party. Public inquiries and cleanups gave this period the appearance of an authentic fascist dictatorship and ruined the lives and careers of people who, sometimes, had little or nothing to do with communism. It is no coincidence that Carl Foreman, the film's screenwriter and one of those targeted in this purge, imbued this film with so much disenchantment. Through the abandonment of a fair and honest man, he expressed the resentment and dismay of a large amount of actors and film professionals who, suddenly, found themselves interrogated, humiliated and sometimes ostracized. From this perspective, this film is a true manifesto, deserving its place on the list of relevant films in American history. The film is short, concise and quite pragmatic in its production. The sets and costumes, the effects and the period recreation, everything follows practical and functional criteria that make it work without trying to surprise. The cinematography, in black and white, is very good and the train arrival, as well as the final fight scene, are particularly memorable. The soundtrack is marked by a sung theme that has become very famous, but which I couldn't help but consider excessively intrusive and annoying after a certain point. In addition to this, we have an effective direction by Fred Zinnemann and a very strong cast, with solid names such as the veteran Gary Cooper, the elegant Grace Kelly and the competent Lloyd Bridges. Each does their job with care, but Cooper deserves a special praise for the way he brought to life a hero who is as human, vulnerable and ordinary as any man. I also enjoyed seeing the dignified Katy Jurado in a very strong role.