Far and Away: Not Quite Classic, Not Quite Cult, All Masterpiece

This piece was originally published as part of the Facebook group The Dissolve’s Love Fest, where members wrote about their love of maligned and misunderstood films, in August 2018. In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I am now presenting here on the blog with minor revisions, image/video additions, and more adequate proof reading. Enjoy!

August 1, 2018

There are Trekkies. There are Potterheads. There are Bronies. They don’t have cute nicknames, but the Marvel and Star Wars cultish fanbases are just as dedicated. Even as an intense lifelong cinephile, I never felt like I could exactly fit into one of these niche groups at least without forcing it. But therein lies the key. Dedicated fandom should not be forced. One should not decide one day to be a Trekkie then scramble to finish the last two films of the series and collect enough memorabilia to keep up appearances. Being a fan means to love something so much that the thing itself is almost not enough. The need to devour any supplementary materials becomes necessary to achieve the most supreme level of appreciation. Through panel discussions, conventions, action figures, and t-shirts, fans are able to deepen their understanding and insight of whatever they love. Many people love something and do not know why, but superfans love something and DO know why.

Though I consider myself an intense cinephile, I never felt like I could easily fit into these subcategories of niche fandom. I have always loved Star Wars, but never attended a convention, cosplayed, or gave the prequels any extra minute of my time. However, starting May 23, 1992, ten year old Rory Jobst became what would probably qualify as a superfan of a particular film: Ron Howard’s Far and Away. The romantic period drama about the Irish immigrant experience in the late 19th century starred arguably Hollywood’s most renowned power couple, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. It also had the distinction of being the first film shot completely in 70mm in over twenty years. To say I loved this movie would be an understatement. I was obsessed. Granted, a romantic period drama does not generate a lot of swag, but I milked all the supplemental materials I could. My friend’s dad hooked me up with a press packet complete with set photos. I bought the soundtrack. I bought the novelization (and made my aunt and mother take me to multiple Barnes and Noble’s to find it). I taped Jay Leno’s Tom Cruise interview promoting the film. I completed a non-required essay/presentation on the film’s original score for my high school film class. I wrote reviews. Multiple reviews every couple of years. Reviews for myself in a steno notebook, one for the school paper, one on Amazon.com (that one’s still live, too. 60 people found it helpful in the past 18 years) . I even wrote a fake “My Year in Flops” entry on it in the style of Nathan Rabin for a grad school project for my AV Club internship. Shortly after the film’s release, I bought a copy of the now defunct Premiere magazine with Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, and Ron Howard on the cover. I read the article about it multiple times, and carried the issue everywhere, even to school, sports banquets, and Cubs games.

There was no name for this subculture of fandom because as far as I know, I was the only one. It came as a rude awakening to me to discover that the film was not as universally loved as I had loved it. Reviews were mixed at best and the film was a box office disappointment (though it did recoup its losses a bit overseas). Though almost an exact prototype for Oscar bait (lavish production values, period setting, good looking movie star leads, etc.), the film was not nominated for a single Oscar including much deserved technical ones. What could possibly be wrong with a movie I thought was basically perfect? I was only ten when I fell in love with it the first time. As I got older, I kept watching the film thinking the shoe would drop at any second and the lukewarm elements would come bubbling to the surface. I came to some realizations. First off, the film is maudlin and at times melodramatic. It’s hard to use the word “destiny” without sounding histrionic and trite, and this movie uses this word often. Most of the cast is American doing Irish accents, and that’s not exactly surprising. At well over two hours, it’s also quite long, and many scenes could have been cut out to streamline the story. Its depiction of the upper class is extremely forgiving, and almost argues that the exploitation of the poor is a result of oblivion and therefore and deserves a pass. Due to its subject matter and setting, the film has about as much diversity as the 2015 Oscar acting nominees. It could also be considered a vanity project celebrating the love of arguably 90’s Hollywood’s most documented and beloved couple, a feeling that’s soured considerably since their split eight years later (this film being the first 70mm release in over twenty years and their next film being the first Stanley Kubrick movie in over twelve showed that these two lovebirds couldn’t just be in any movie together. It had to be an event). I became keenly aware of these flaws and overall perception, but continued to love the movie anyway, calling it a “guilty pleasure” as a means to justify my affection amid serious cinephiles and the like.

It’s been twenty-six years since I first saw the film in theaters, and I still continue to watch it multiple times a year. For years, I have been downplaying my love for this film as something I just “enjoy” or, as I mentioned before, a “guilty pleasure”. However, after twenty-six years, I think I have made an important realization about this film: it’s not a guilty pleasure. After twenty six-years of loving this movie, I am ready to give it the label it deserves: masterpiece. After twenty six years, I am finally ready to formally analyze why this movie works so damn well. As a Far and Away superfan, I do love it and DO know why.

First of all, the movie is quite ambitious in its pursuit to become an epic 70mm historical romantic comedy, a hybrid subgenre that does not really exist elsewhere. Even the most serious movies are known to have a funny line here and there, but the humor is consistently present throughout the film’s lengthy run time and actually quite funny. The premise itself is even prototypical rom-com: a poor Irish farm boy Joseph Donnelly (Cruise) and a privileged and naive daughter of his wealthy landlord Shannon Christie (Kidman) hate each other at first but through a long journey together to America’s heartland, learn that they are actually in love. But even more interestingly than that, there are many scenes (sometimes even running concurrently) that play as short comical sketches that, while not impacting the plot all that much, do reveal much about the characters. For instance, a scene where Shannon confronts her scuzzily nebbish supervisor (Clint Howard, an automatic comic presence already) becomes a comical and even empowering game where she continually sacrifices her day’s wages in exchange for insulting him. “Pig” she says under her breath in a sing songy tone losing Thursday’s wages, leading into her brash announcement to “take Friday as well you spineless little fraction of a man”. This scene is followed by an even funnier scene where Shannon cluelessly dips her dirty clothes in soapy water in an attempt to clean them before farmboy Joseph reveals the important laundry trick: “plunge and scrub!” Neither of these scenes forward the plot that brings them closer to the Oklahoma land race of the film’s finale or even lead into Joseph’s lucrative career as bare knuckle boxer that dominates the second act. However, they do reveal much about who the characters are. Shannon is privileged and naive, yes, but also cunning and intelligent, unafraid to take risks. Joseph is proud of his rural upbringing and flaunts his practical skills almost like he’s playing a “farmboy” gimmick with the Magic Mike team. These scenes do not need to be in the film per se, but are a welcome distraction from the film’s heavier moments. It also becomes apparent what these characters, different though they maybe, start to see in each other. These scenes occur throughout even in places where they would seem incongruous. It’s no surprise that the screenwriter Bob Dolman cut his teeth in sketch comedy as a writer for SCTV and sitcoms like WKRP in Cincinnati. Even Howard, who co-conceived the script, of course started his show business career in sitcoms. One of the main complaints of the film is that it lacks a cohesive story, but it’s scenes like these that really give the film’s characters true personality.

Speaking of characters, believe it or not, the film also works so well because of the chemistry between the then “it” couple. Though following that basic rom com premise of “hate him/her then love him/her”, there’s always a sense of intrigue between the characters from the get go. They meet with Shannon staring sharply into his eyes before stabbing him with a pitchfork. This is the first impression both Joseph and the audience see of this privileged woman who refuses to ride her horse sideways and can handle farm equipment with a fearless panache. In one of the film’s funniest scenes, Shannon looks under a bowl guarding Joseph’s privates, with a look that clearly suggests she is totally intrigued. The film also suggests that the two leads are a bit inexperienced when it comes to sex and romance, and their advances are mostly limited to casual peaking at each other (well shot in a scene of them getting ready for bed on either side of a scrim). The way they even fight in the middle parts of the film shows a huge emotional investment in each other, taking everything too seriously because, well, the opposite opinion matters. (“Why don’t you shag her and get it over with” flophouse manager Molly Kay quips.) All the quibbling and joking around does lead to a truer sense of empathy and is constantly being suggested throughout.

While the humor and characters in this film are a nice surprise, it is the technical prowess and visual splendor that truly inches Far and Away ever so slightly into masterpiece territory. As mentioned earlier, the film was shot completely in 70mm, a rarity even then. Howard and cinematographer Mikael Salomon (his swan song as a DP before taking on the director’s chair himself), make full use of the depth of the compositions, filling up nearly every frame. Virtually every scene has action and a striking image in both the foreground and the background, and the consistent use of crane shots and bird’s eye view angles show Howard is “far and away” from the three camera/talking heads world he grew up in. Though they make good use of the superior film stock even in smaller talkier scenes, it is the thrilling finale surrounding the Oklahoma Land Race that nearly makes the film on its own. Though essentially a triumphant charge to the finale and the claiming of the land ne “American Dream”, Howard is not afraid to display the chaos and anarchy of the race itself. Wagons topple over. Horses scream as they hit the ground. People get shot. All these details on display as Joseph rushes to the conclusion on his green broke horse. In addition to this thrilling combination of elements, the unsung hero of the movie might indeed be the great John Williams, whose score is a career best. The use of flutes creates an omnipresent celtic influence and the strings capture the momentum of the scenes perfectly. The music so immaculately fits the emotional peaks of the scenes it is almost as if the scenes were written and shot in response to them. It is any wonder that I am able to cover multiple miles when running and biking with it blaring in my earbuds.

It may be naive in 2018 Trump America to still be so enamored of a film about the American Dream. It does,after all, present an America where immigrants, through enough hard work and even more determination, can receive land for free; where owning property and marking your territory is the truest form of success. “Without land, a man is nothing”, Joseph’s father says on his deathbed at the beginning of the film. One need only to look at the daily tragedies perpetrated by the ICE to see how foolish this optimism feels today. Still, I prefer to think of this film not so much as delusional or misleadingly optimistic. Despite a hopeful ending, the film hardly sugarcoats the immigrant experience either. Still, Far and Away is a reminder of what brought immigrants here in the first place. It may not be what they thought it would be, as Shannon expresses after a day of hard labor, and the better life is hardly automatic. Still, there is plenty of land to be claimed out there, whether it’s in open fields in Oklahoma or condos in Chicago. However, it’s the people one shares it with that truly makes the dream complete. Without that, a man or woman truly is nothing. Sorry if that sounds a bit corny, but this movie has that effect on me. I don’t feel guilty about that anymore.