Gunman’s Walk (Phil Karlson, 1958)

Some heavy Prodigal Son/Oedpial business here with racist rancher Van Heflin favoring hotheaded (and even more racist) son Tab Hunter (playing superlatively against type) over the more gentle burgeoning liberal son James Darren. Hunter was clearly accessing some long-burning resentment against oppressive codes of masculinity because his scenes with Heflin drip with vitriol. It may be his finest performance ever. Karlson had to be doing something right overall if he could get Columbia president Harry Cohn to weep at the end as he reportedly did during a screening of the film a few weeks before he died. I wept because its tale of lawless backstabbers feels like a documentary in the era of Drumpf. P. S. Name of the mare Hunter used in the film = Swizzlestick!