Lee Pfeiffer looks at the release of a John Wayne rarity:
Don't be deceived by the title: this is actually the Duke's 1970 TV special "Swing Out Sweet Land"
Arriving without fanfare is MPI Home Video's release of John Wayne's 1970 NBC TV special, Swing Out Sweet Land packaged under the title John Wayne's Tribute to America. This is not the first time video companies have retitled shows for commercial reasons. Peter Bogdanovich's wonderful 1971 documentary, The American West of John Ford was repackaged by public domain video companies as The Great American West -duh! In any event, we wouldn't have even known about this release had it not been for Cinema Retro subscriber Jim Kroeper who was kind enough to send us a copy he found in a local store. For Wayne fans, it's pure heaven as this show has been unseen since it's single telecast thirty seven years ago. Although the entertainment special was a ratings blockbuster, it was never re-run or released on video until now.
The special was bascially Duke's gift to The Silent Majority at a time when protests over everything from Vietnam to civil rights and women's lib seemed to be fracturing the very fabric of America. Wayne's show was intentionally steeped in enough corn to make episodes of Ozzie and Harriet look like searing social commentary. Yet, viewing the show after decades, there is a real sense of sentiment that shines through for those of us who grew up in that era. Wayne had amassed a roster of all stars that only serves to remind you of how flimsy our Hollywood "legends" are today. In fact, the very premise of getting some of the biggest names in show business together to honor their country would seem hopelessly naive today. The show is refreshingly devoid of right wing sentiment. Wayne seems to accept the fact that all Americans can take pride in their nation regardless of their political leanings. The entertainment runs from song and dance numbers to comedy sketches that range from genuinely amusing to strained. Yet, the real joy is seeing the line-up of greats all in one show: Lucille Ball, Bob Hope, Dean Martin, Bonanza stars Lorne Greene, Michael Landon and Dan Blocker, Dennis Weaver, Bing Crosby, Ann-Margaret, Rowan and Martin and many others.
The release seems to be a public domain program as neither Wayne's Batjac Productions or NBC is credited. However, MPI has found a very good print (probably from 16mm) that makes for a very impressive transfer and beats the hell out of those barely discernable bootlegs of the show that have circulated among Wayne collectors for many years. The show even begins with the NBC peacock and follows with the original Budweiser Clydesdales! Viewing the show, which was completely sponsored by Budweiser, also makes you realize how much better TV programs were when you only had one sponsor. The ads may have been longer, but they were very enjoyable in their own right. The effect is far more advantageous to both the viewer and the sponsor than the present system of loading so many commercials into a TV episode that you can't even follow the plot.
Extras: MPI has included some interesting extras including original ads from the show featuring Budweiser spokesman Ed McMahon, who shows us why TV never had a better pitchman. Budweiser is my least favorite beer but after watching Ed virtually compare it to Holy Water, I was ready for a mug of the limp lager. The ads also include one in which Wayne, resplendent in his normal cowboy attire, appears in the spot with McMahon as a bartender circa 1876. There is also another terrific extra: Wayne's appearance in 1960 as the surprise guest on What's My Line? He barely fools the panelists for even a minute as the thunderous applause gives away his identity. Wayne goes on to chat with host John Daly about the recent opening of his film The Alamo - which I found interesting since Dave Worrall and I are completing a book about the making of the film. Wayne mentions he has two films in circulation "on Broadway": The Alamo and North to Alaska, but confesses he is more concerned about the fate of The Alamo. He does give a lukewarm endorsement to both pictures, however, by humorously pointing out that he's not ashamed of either - though he can't say the same about many of the films he's made!
This one is a "must" for all serious John Wayne fans.
Arrived in Venice, to be greeted by Terence Hill. Not in person, you understand, with brass band and Bud Spencer on trombone, but, turning on the TV in my hotel room, there was Terence, beaming blandly. . . . This seemed auspicious, not only because I’m here to cover the Spaghetti Western retrospective at this year’s Venice Film Festival, which includes two Terence Hill movies, but also because Terence is, apparently, as revealed by some remarkably tedious and unproductive research prior to this trip, Venice’s greatest gift to cinema. Indeed, it seems he is Venice’s only gift to cinema – or at any rate, the only one with any serious claim to international recognition. Which seems odd, somehow, given La Serenissima’s high profile in the film world due to the Festival, to say nothing of its appearance as a location in literally hundreds of movies, but there it is. Of course, hosting a film festival is no guarantee of cinematic progeny (vide Cannes) but Venice is . . . well, Venice—home to Marco Polo, Casanova, Goldoni, Vivaldi, Canaletto . . . and Terence Hill.
However, my initial pleasure at seeing Terence quickly evaporated on realising that what I was watching was an episode of his seemingly endless series, Don Matteo, in which Hill plays a priest, one who resolves issues with a kindly smile and a pious platitude rather than a Trinity-like series of well-placed punches. This lamentable conclusion to Hill's career apparently dates back to the success of the Trinity films, after which he was, so he says, constantly approached by mammas burdened with bawling bambini who thanked him, with tears in their eyes, for making movies suitable per tutta la famiglia. Since then, and the apparent end of his partnership with Spencer, Hill has pursued the family-values agenda so assiduously that he must be an outstanding candidate for the Michael Medved Lifetime Achievement Award for Saccharine Sentimentality. <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]-->
Who can forget his spectacular miscasting of himself, both as actor and director, in the execrable Don Camillo in 1983? (I’ve tried, but nothing seems to work.) Or his wretched turn as Lucky Luke in a series of infantile TV movies? I suppose, with hindsight, we should have been warned by the fact that St. Terence enjoyed his biggest success playing a character called Trinity, but how were we to know that he harboured ambitions to be the Pat O'Brien of his day, and that the rest of his solo career, post-My Name Is Nobody, could easily be headlined They Call Me Sanctimonious…?
As watching Don Matteo is rather like being mugged by Bing Crosby (though without the songs), I grabbed the zapper and managed to catch the final showdown of Il mucchio selvaggio, or The Wild Bunch, if you prefer. While Pike Bishop and the Gorch brothers may not sound quite right growling at each other in Italian, it didn't make much difference to Coffer and T.C., who spend most of the movie jabbering and gesticulating like a pair of Venetian fishwives anyway. Nonetheless, the legendary bullet ballet provided just the right antidote to the toe-curling banalities of Don Matteo.
And so to bed. Tomorrow, after all, is another day . . .