This film has to be as near to perfect a film as John Ford made. The film is magic, a masterpiece, the reason Ford was, well Ford. If you want to know why Ford was great this one explains it.<br /><br />The photography of course is superb, black and white as black and white should be, wonderful shots, not an over the shoulder conversation in it, pure Ford, great moments, big and little. The famous ripped pants of Ward Bond. Apparently two dogs kept invading the set and fighting so Ford wanted to use them in the fighting scene, but instead of fighting one dog ran away and the other attacked Ward Bond and ripped his pants, which caused Ford no end of mirth. A whole scene around plaiting a rope. The way Ben Johnson burn then snuffs his rope, wonderful foreshadowing and anticipation of the final. Harry Carey's naive courting of Prudence. The usual ford line about being scared and not showing it. Bond's horse accidentally falling in him and its left in the film. Johnson and Bond are fantastic in that scene. Lord help any Ford actor who does not stay in character while the camera is rolling even when a horse falls on top of you.<br /><br />A couple of very sweet romances, not intruding on the whole focus, two very likable leads, not to mention for the girls, the number of times the cameras focus on Ben Johnson's rather delightful backside.<br /><br />Lots of old time stuntmen getting lines and roles, Cliff Lyons, Frank McGrath. Some wonderful character studies mostly of faces staring, all the villains and main stars. A set of villains to rival any group in any western.<br /><br />Many many Fordian shots of faces, groups, children, women, small things happening, foals in the background (Ford seems to love images of foals), women in aprons, allowing the moment as wagons cross rivers and the camera lingers.<br /><br />This is probably not a western as much as an artist's picture that happens to be set in the west.<br /><br />Lucky the film was made in 1950 because it is impossible to imagine such a film could be ever made again, but then it is such a work of art that it would be a sacrilege to attempt it