Hear Me Out: ‘The Quiet Man’ is John Wayne’s most underappreciated performance
Few stars are as synonymous with a single genre as John Wayne. When he steps off the train in the opening scene of John Ford’s The Quiet Man, it is almost disconcerting to see him without his usual cowboy hat and bandana. But once the shock of it wears off and you settle for the tweed cap and trench coat, there’s no going back. Without his usual western garb, Wayne ceases to be an icon and gets to be an actor. The results will make you wonder why he didn’t hang up his spurs more often.
The Quiet Man follows American boxer Sean Thornton, who returns to the small Irish village where he was born and falls in love with a feisty local woman named Marie Kate (Maureen O’Hara). Their romance is thwarted at every turn by her brother and the strictures of traditional social norms.
Both Ford and O’Hara were born and raised in Ireland, which made the film a homecoming for them and a passion project for the director. In exchange for greenlighting the picture, which was a gamble for all concerned, Republic Pictures insisted Ford, Wayne, and O’Hara make Rio Bravo first. By the time production on The Quiet Man began, the trio had found a comfortable working relationship, and that ease is apparent on-screen.
The director was a master of capturing the American West in all its sweeping glory, and he did the same in this film. Deep green pastures, quaint churches and cottages, and a glorious expanse of rugged coastline make this film instantly superior to the usual backlot sets that Hollywood was known for in the ‘50s, and Ford doubled down on the authenticity by tapping into the local network of Irish actors to form the bulk of the supporting cast.
With this backdrop, Wayne didn’t need to turn in the best performance of his life for the film to succeed, but he does too. The crackling chemistry that he shares with O’Hara doesn’t hurt, but it’s his calmness and lack of ostentation that counterintuitively makes his performance shine.
Wayne has never been accused of being a great actor. He might have won an Oscar late in life, but it was widely regarded as an acknowledgement of his legacy rather than his dramatic talent, which was reinforced by the fact that he won it for one of his worst performances. But as Sean, he is a magnetic screen presence that holds your attention because of, rather than in spite of, its reserve.
He also makes a strikingly natural romantic lead. In one scene, Sean and Mary Kate escape their chaperone and wander the green pastures of the countryside together. Stopping in a graveyard, they are caught in a rainstorm, and Sean removes his jacket to put it over Mary Kate’s shoulders. Standing in the pouring rain, his white shirt becomes increasingly drenched and transparent, an obvious ploy for the director to objectify his leading man. Colin Firth and Ryan Gosling may have reached heartthrob status for their wet shirt scenes in Pride and Prejudice and The Notebook, but four decades before, John Wayne was the unlikely star to set the standard.
Ford clearly had a soft spot for The Duke – he certainly cast him in enough movies – but it’s worth contemplating whether The Quiet Man would have been as successful had it starred a different Hollywood actor. Henry Fonda could have contributed a similar sense of composure. Kirk Douglas could have contributed the same dashing charisma. But there is an ease and lack of theatricality about Wayne’s performance that is disarming and unusual. It feels almost modern in its subtlety.
Whether that was by artistic design on Wayne’s part or simply reflected his comfort in front of the camera is unclear. What is clear is that Wayne should have been cast in more roles like this. Without the encumbrance of a Wild West town to protect or a squadron to whip into shape, his uniquely soothing screen presence is a reminder of why he became a star in the first place.
