by Adam Ritchie, Contributing Writer

Welcome back to another edition of 20th Century Flicks!

After a brief hiatus, it feels good to be back on board and sharing some classic cinema with you all. This month I want tell you about Giant, probably the most suitable film I have ever done for this column, the point of which, just to remind you, is for me to watch classic films for the first time and see if (or how) they hold up to modern audiences. 

Giant is the story of a wealthy Texas cattle farmer and his family, told over the span of about 30 years. Starring three screen icons in Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and James Dean in his third and final role, Giant was nominated for 10 Academy Awards, winning only one for its director, George Stevens. 

Hudson plays Bick Benedict, the generationally wealthy Texas landowner. He falls instantly smitten for Leslie (Taylor) when he visits her father’s ranch with an eye to buy some horses. 

Skipping straight to their honeymoon, the story follows their married life on the ranch. Dean plays Jett Rink (yes… Jett Rink. I don’t make this stuff up), a worker on the ranch that Bick had assumed he fired before he left. But as Jett is a favourite of the lady of the house, Luz (Bick’s sister, played by Carroll Baker), he manages to squirrel his way into staying on, despite Bick not liking the boy. 

When Luz dies in a horse riding accident, she leaves Jett some land on which he accidentally finds himself some oil and becomes a tycoon of sorts. 

Although it’s set in a sprawling Texan landscape, the majority of the film takes place inside the ranch house where servants wait on the owner’s every need. The external scenes on location are superbly shot, and director George Stevens managed to immerse me in his world. This is a pretty decent 4K transfer. 

Having said this is the most suitable film for this column I think I have ever written about, let me tell you why. Its central messages are timeless, and boil down to being about gaining wisdom with age and becoming enlightened toward all creeds in times where we aren’t. Throughout the film, Leslie remains humble and caring for the local Mexican population. For example, she forces the family doctor to care for the sick children in their shanty town, despite Bick and his unwillingness to help. 

However, from an inclusiveness perspective using 2023 sensibilities, Giant is incredibly bad at representation. Every person of color in this film is in black or brown face, which is glaringly obvious and distracting, to the point of taking me out of the film several times while my brain adjusts to the terrible makeup and absurdity of it all. Despite its good intentions Giant writes checks it can’t safely cash. 

For a film that is over 200 minutes long, it still manages to yada-yada over time and skip to the bits we need to see, as this family evolves from simple wealthy cattle ranchers to enlightened super wealthy oil barons. 

If Giant was made in 2023, it would be completely different, but boy did I like it. There is more than enough story and character development that got me across the line into really liking it. Even tough, by the end, there is a hint of white saviorism, it keeps itself in check well enough to not totally sell out and become what we now think of as cliché. Even at 201 minutes, it is paced so well. It isn’t hard to stay intrigued in the character arcs, as the time jumping is presented well, and exposition is rare, and if it is there, it isn’t at all patronizing.  

Dean’s final scene is utterly mesmerizing, superbly shot in this wide angle that makes him seem small and alone, and he is incredibly brilliant in it. What a supreme talent he already was at such a young age. If he lived, I can’t imagine the influence and impact he would have had on the cinematic world. 

Giant is a fantastic film that deserves it place amongst the classics. I absolutely would recommend you seeing it if you can put on your 1956 glasses and put down your phone for three and half hours. 

You can read more from Adam Ritchie, and follow him on Twitter and Letterboxd