--Photo-Johan-Persson.jpeg?width=1200&auto=webp&trim=844%2C401%2C2757%2C0)
The 20th century's great movie Westerns have given us so many enjoyably kitschy tropes: swaggering cowboys, tough sheriffs with shiny badges, ruffle-skirted saloon girls, and quick-draw gun battles. All those elements are technically present in director Thea Sharrock's thoughtful staging of the 1952 movie High Noon, but they're painted in muted colours, rather than nostalgic technicolour. This story doesn't romanticise the old West; instead, it punctures its mythos, acting as a sobering critique of gun-slinging masculinity and the McCarthy-era cowardice that surrounded the original film. Here, Billy Crudup lends a quiet integrity to the role of sheriff Marshall Kane, who finds his town turns its back on him, while an impassioned Denise Gough throws his values into question as his pacifist new wife Amy.
The pair's heartfelt wedding vows are interrupted by some unwelcome news. A bad guy who once menaced the town is out of jail. So Kane's plan to surrender his star-shaped badge and open a general store is out the window. The bulk of this play focuses on this mild-mannered sheriff's attempts to convince the rest of the town to stand with him and defend their community against villainous influence. But although everyone tells him what a great guy he is, they pretend to be out when he comes knocking. A principle isn't worth dying for.
The script here is the work of venerable screenwriter Eric Roth (Killers of the Flower Moon, Forrest Gump), and his best moments sing. As Amy, Gough beautifully punctures Kane's obsession with his gun, telling him off for "talking all poetic", as if he's romancing this metal instrument of violence. A love of justice can hide darker impulses, she feels. Roth also deftly outlines the impact of growing up in a society where violence is a currency. Rosa Salazar is full of inner steel as tough-minded saloon owner Helen Ramirez, despite the taffeta ruffles she's decked out in. “There are very few men who can not be managed, one way or another,” she says.
Sharrock's production relies on the current theatrical vernacular for depicting mid-century America: rough timber, golden light, abundant haze. Above the stage, a big clock ticks down to noon, when all hell will break out. Scenes are soundtracked or interspersed with Bruce Springsteen songs, mostly sung by Gough – sometimes they heighten the atmosphere, sometimes they shatter it, a little, by interrupting moments that could be left to linger.
This production tells its story carefully, but it still feels a little slow, a little crowded, a little uncertain of what it is. It feels like some vital moments are missing from Roth's adaptation – the parts that would really show us who its central couple are, and why they're both willing to risk death for the things they stand for. Its original screenwriter Carl Foreman was blacklisted for refusing to betray his colleagues in front of the House of Un-American Activities. This staging feels like a fitting tribute to him, and a conjuring of the paranoid times he worked in. But it doesn't deliver either the adrenaline or the emotional punch that gives Western movies their enduring power.
‘High Noon’ is at the Harold Pinter Theatre, London, until 6 March
