The Redemption of Dallas in Stagecoach (1939)
A Soiled Dove Finds Her Own Heart of Gold in Ford’s Classic Film
Dallas (Claire Trevor), a local prostitute, and the Ringo Kid (John Wayne), an escaped felon, sit at the center of Stagecoach, a deceptively simply “road” story of nine people traveling from Tonto to Lordsburg in the face of possible Apache attack.
Along with Doc Boone (Thomas Mitchell), the perpetually drunk physician, and Hatfield (John Carradine), a notorious gamble/gunfighter, they constitute, according to Tim Dirks, the “disrespectable social outcasts” of the film who force movie-goers to re-evaluate their own social prejudices and who prove to be “the most noble, virtuous, and selfless” of all the characters (p.3).
Dallas Generates Sympathy as an Outcast
Dallas is introduced as she is being expelled from Tonto by the Ladies’ Law and Order League (see this Turner Classic Movies’ clip). Although she is never directly identified as a prostitute (in order to meet Breen Office censorship demands), it is clear the Ladies’ League finds her socially undesirable.
Even so, it is easy to sympathize with her against these stern-faced harridans. Her appeal to Doc, “What have I done, Doc? Haven’t I any right to live?” is as heart-wrenching as her fatalistic sense that in life “things happen” and “you have to live, no matter what happens.” Her bitterness is evident when she stays on the stage despite the danger, looking pointedly at the ladies and proclaiming that “there are worse things than Apaches.”
Soiled Dove Stereotype Typical in Literature
The character of Dallas appears, at first, to be the most stereotypical in the film. It is common, notes Althea Rhodes (2006), for prostitutes in American literature to “appear as stereotypes rather than as rounded, fully realized characters, even when they are main characters” (p.20) and certainly Dallas represents what Ann Seagraves describes as the “soiled dove” common in tales of the American West (1994).
Trevor Transcends “Tart With a Heart” Role
Yet, as played by Claire Trevor, Dallas transcends stereotype and presents an archetypal character who rediscovers her own heart, journeying out of bitterness into wholeness. She is, as Buscombe indicates, “perfectly cast against John Wayne” (p. 414), bringing a brassiness to the character that balances with his quiet steadfastness and makes her transformation feasible (unlike the exoticism that Marlene Dietrich, as David Selznick’s choice, would have brought to the role).
On the surface, Dallas seems shrill. Rothman (2003) sees this and misunderstands her, complaining that her voice is “pitched at the edge of hysteria” (one wonders how he would feel in a similar situation!) and arguing that staying with Lucy to Lordsburg is “chickening out” of a relationship with Ringo (p. 167). A more reasonable interpretation is that shrillness is Dallas’s way of insulating herself against a harsh world and that her unwillingness to abandon Lucy is a compassion rising from having been abandoned too often herself.
Dallas Finds Her Own Heart of Gold
From childhood, when her parents were killed in a massacre on Superstition Mountain, Dallas has struggled. Her life is a series of small insults: ogling men, overheard references to herself as “that creature, ” and “respectable” folks’ refusal of her help or sympathy.
But she gamely continues to reach out—and she breaks through the façade of bitterness in golden moments. Her astonishment at Ringo’s insistence that Curley treat her as Lucy’s equal and the softening of her “please” when Ringo starts to leave the dinner table (mistaking the hostility of others as directed toward him rather than her) foreshadow the unfolding of her heart .
When Lucy gives birth, it is Dallas who takes charge, asking for the station manager’s wife, sending Ringo for hot water, and making it clear to Doc he’s needed. In a beautifully lit moment, she presents the infant to the waiting men and all her yearnings for love and family are expressed as she smiles and proclaims, “It’s a little girl.” She tends to Lucy and the baby all night – and when offered a chance to leave with Ringo as she urges his escape, she declines, unwilling to abandon Lucy and the baby with no female support.
Hope, Shame Divide Dallas From Herself
Ringo’s marriage proposal brings to the surface wild hope and desperate shame. Dallas feels sure that if he goes to Lordsburg, he’ll see what she is and drop her (assuming he isn’t killed first). To her, his unconditional acceptance is baffling. Her turmoil as he walks her “home” is palpable as is her despair as he asserts, “We ain’t never gonna say goodbye.” Her relief in the moment he returns to her, having survived the shootout, melts the final bitterness and her hope blossoms into reality.
John Ford commented to Trevor after they viewed Stagecoach’s rough cut, “It’s going to be great. And YOU are so good in it, they’re not even going to realize how good you are” (Eyman, p.204). Her “so good” performance is indeed one reason Stagecoach stands as one of the best films—Western or otherwise —ever made.
For more on Stagecoach, see:
Sources
Dirks, T. (2009.) [Review of the film Stagecoach (1939)]. New York: American Movie Classic Company. Retrieved 1 April 2009: www.filmsite.org/stagec.html
Eyman, S. (1999). Print the Legend: The Life and Times of John Ford. New York: Simon & Schuster.
Rhodes, A.E. (2006). “American Literature.” In M.H. Ditmore (Ed.), Encyclopedia of Prostitution and Sex Works (pp.19-21). Santa Barbara: Greenwood.
Rothman, W. 2003. “Stagecoach and the Quest for Selfhood.” In B.K. Grant (Ed.), John Ford's Stagecoach (pp. 158-177). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Univ Press.
Seagraves, A. (1994). Soiled Doves: Prostitution in the Old West. Hayden ID: Wesanne.
Frame, Clarie Trevor as Dallas, Stagecoach (1939)
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Frame, Dallas Overhearing an Insult, Stagecoach
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Frame, Dallas, Doc Are Run Out of Town, Stagecoach
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Frame, Dallas Introduces the Baby, Stagecoach
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Frame, Ringo Returns to Dallas Alive, Stagecoach
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