I was glad to view
El Dorado twice in the theater in June 2017 as part of the Cinemark Classic Series (which, unfortunately, Cinemark ended after 2017). As some of the posters here, especially "hitchcockthelegend," have indicated,
El Dorado is humorous, well-written, and unpretentious. Director Howard Hawks is in fine form here, and the film is surprisingly impressive visually, with Hawks ingratiatingly using both natural locations and sets and offering notable shots in terms of both composition and lighting. The movie's colors are remarkable, too: rich without being garish. There is nothing especially spectacular here—nothing visually comparable to John Ford, Sergio Leone, Clint Eastwood and some others in terms of Western compositions. But what Hawks features is entirely effective.
Ultimately,
El Dorado proves most memorable for the way that it uses a pair of iconic stars, John Wayne and Robert Mitchum, to provide an ironic treatment of masculinity. I will link to a thread that I started, and a review that I wrote, on IMDb in July 2006 titled "The Redemption of Robert Mitchum, John Wayne Playing in Pain."
link
But since the link is not seeming to function properly, I will just copy that post from August 18, 2006:
***SPOILERS*** for El Dorado
I don't think that
El Dorado (1967) is a terribly substantial film or a significant Western in the history of the genre. The movie is obviously derivative of director Howard Hawks' previous Western with John Wayne,
Rio Bravo (1959), and its treatment of violence is lightweight, lacking the gravity of Hawks' austere and often grave
Red River (1948). Surely, certain thematic explorations about the flippant resort to violence in the Old West and the mercenary nature of gunfighting go untapped in
El Dorado. In a sense, Hawks was just coasting by this late point in his career.
All that said, it's nearly undeniable that
El Dorado makes for pleasant and enjoyable Western entertainment. Hawks' usual sense of pacing—fluid yet never rushed—is evident, as is his canny sense of comedy, his witty dialogue, his delightful sets and landscapes, and his richly drawn sense of character. The action set-pieces are nifty and nimble (if unrealistic), and the use of montage is striking and dramatic. Hawks' compositions also carry a certain sense of irony, placing characters in unexpected and compromising positions (an injured Wayne temporarily laid out in front of a door, a bathing Robert Mitchum embarrassed in the presence of attractive women going in-and-out of the sheriff's office). Best of all, the director takes his two great macho stars, Wayne and Mitchum, and renders them vulnerable. When Wayne eventually re-encounters the 48-year old Mitchum after some six or seven months on the trail, he finds a grubby, pathetic drunkard. Mitchum's face is unshaven, his hair is lank, plastered, and greasy, and his mind is desperately focused on alcohol and nothing else, so sorry are his sorrows over a woman who broke his heart. He isn't even properly clothed, wearing a filthy, dirt-stained undergarment over his sweaty torso, his sheriff's badge now serving as a tacky joke rather than a jewel of justice. He's a man who has basically washed away his life, his once noble position as the formerly respected sheriff of
El Dorado, and his once feared reputation as an awesome gunslinger. Then you have the 58-year old Wayne, still a powerful and legendary gunfighter, but clearly vulnerable, too, toppling from his horse and complaining about a bullet that's lodged in his back and that periodically causes numbness in his hand and ultimately, temporary paralysis in his side. The Duke's paunch is thick and glaring and he looks slightly weary, a little wayworn if still a strong man to be respected.
Together, these two straggling stars will rely on one another to succeed, subverting their machismo even as they affirm it in ironic ways. With villainy on the horizon, the focused Wayne arrives in town and begins the stumbling process of sobering up the disgraced and wallowing Mitchum. Eventually, through quite a bit of trial and error, Mitchum is warmed by the camaraderie of his old friend, and gradually, almost imperceptibly, he reverses course. Late in the film, we see Mitchum clean-shaven and wearing a flattering black hat and his sheriff's badge attached to a crisp, handsome maroon shirt. It's a startling epiphany, and yet one that had been coming for some time. As for Wayne, he's taken hostage late in the film and finds his shooting arm paralyzed, and yet still manages to use his savvy to outwit the opposition. Combined with a young sidekick, an old one, and a couple of Howard Hawks' typically pretty yet sporty women, these ill-fitting yet vigorous individuals rub each other the right way and use their brains and teamwork to best the brawnier villains.
In a sense, it's classic Hawks, with male bonding and bantering women and triumphs against the odds. The characters are vulnerable and in varying sorts of pain, but they fit together as part of a cross-woven quilt to form the fabric of American society. Indeed, Hawks may not have been as self-consciously democratic as his rival John Ford, but his basic thrust represented the best of the American ideal. In his universe,
El Dorado included, heterogeneous individuals bond together to compensate for personal and professional shortcomings, belie outward appearances, and form an unbroken circle of trust and mutual reliance. In the process, they overcome seemingly daunting odds, redeem one another, and protect their society from hostile, hegemonic, homogenous, and anti-democratic forces.
El Dorado epitomizes all that and memorably captures Hawks' unfailing spirit, especially in its final shot, which shows Wayne and Mitchum limping down the street of
El Dorado together, each wobbling with the help of a crutch, neither man omnipotent and yet neither man waylaid. Both men are suffering from bullet wounds, and yet both men are resilient and forever bantering. And so if
El Dorado is not a significant or original Western, it can be forgiven, for it's entertaining and enlivening in the best democratic spirit that America has to offer. As one of the characters says, Hawks’ world revolves around an unpretentious "host of friends."
