When I was a kid, my mom was a night owl. She stayed up late and watched TV until the stations went off the air. Yes, Virginia, there was a time before 24/7 television. The local station played an old movie every weeknight after Johnny Carson. Look it up, Virginia. The station was cheap, and they bought only enough movies to last a month before they repeated them. I remember my mom, about halfway through the summer, bitching endlessly about having to watch Taras Bulba and 3:10 to Yuma over and over. The way she threw her whole being into the word Yuma was hilarious. Occasional viewings were okay with her, but not once a month.
3:10 to Yuma is from 1957, the year my sister was born. Maybe that was a trigger for mom, I don't know. Glenn Ford and Van Heflin star in the film, which was based on a short story by Elmore Leonard. Ford is a bad guy and Heflin is the good guy charged with taking the captured murderer to justice. There is only a trace of Mr. Eddie's Father in Ford's performance, and it comes at the end of the movie. No spoilers.
The dusty desert setting calls for a wine that can wet a whistle. Arizona Stronghold takes the names for their wines from Native American legend - Tazi, Nachise, Lozen - which conjure up images of a saguaro cactus and a guy waiting for a train as the tumbleweeds blow by.
Stagecoach is a 1939 classic from the archives of both John Ford and John Wayne. Ford directed Wayne as the Ringo Kid, and both cemented their legendary status with their work. Stagecoach is one of the most lauded films of all time, and you don't have to take it from me. Orson Welles said he watched it dozens of times when he was preparing to make Citizen Kane, although I don't recall too many cowboy hats in Citizen Kane. No stagecoaches, either.
The story involves a few characters sharing a stage traveling through dangerous Native American territory. Okay, a boozer, a hooker, and a whiskey salesman, if you must know. Which sounds like the setup to a joke that carries the punchline, "How far is the Old Log Inn?"
I mentioned that the film has many laurels on which to rest, but the depiction of Indians as ruthless savages is a bone being picked harder harder than your Thanksgiving turkey's wishbone. Since all turkeys have wishbones, did no turkey ever wish to not be decapitated and cooked? Just something that bobs up in my mind this time each year.
For this wine pairing, I'm just going to go generic and let you choose one in your price range. Keep it in mind for Christmas. Sauvignon Blanc goes well with turkey, and maybe you have a few turkey sandwiches left on the platter. Chardonnay will be fine if you have bolder tastes.
1959's No Name on the Bullet finds Audie Murphy playing the heavy, for a change, as a hired killer. He never did any alcohol or tobacco commercials, fearing he'd be a bad example for the youngsters. That's my job.
So, advertising for beer was bad, but playing a murderer was okay? Whatevs. Anyhow, No Name on the Bullet is a film which has been lauded for its chin-stroking metaphysical side, even though Murphy, in the film, does not play a game of chess with death.
19 Crimes wine has the most bizarre backstory of any bottled beverage. The various bottlings are dedicated to British criminals who were sent to live in the Australian penal colony. Conviction of any one of 19 specific crimes earned the luckless lawbreaker a spot on the ship. Among the crimes were stealing fish from a pond or river, bigamy, and impersonating an Egyptian. Professional murder was not one of the punishable offenses. If you get bored with the movie, the criminal on the label tells his or her story through the magic of modern technology.
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