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| | Raoul Walsh |
 | | Walsh left home at 15 when his mother died, unable to support the house without her, and for years propelled himself on an odyssey to nowhere — Cuba, Texas, Mexico, Montana, punching cattle, toughening himself, taking blows, forming callouses so thick he felt ashamed to shake hands. |
 | | All the feverish action of Walsh’s characters, all their energetic diagonals across Walsh’s frames, mount kinetically (not in a natural flow but in heightened fragments) toward rhyming reverse-angles of eyes — eyes well lighted by Walsh and charged with motion, life itself, our inner self, never still. |
 | | Walsh plays to our voyeurism, and the fact that we know our triumphs are fantasy adds to their poignancy, for Walsh’s boisterousness is in truth a mask for melancholy, as when he speaks of Miriam Cooper. |
| www.sensesofcinema.com /contents/directors/02/walsh.html (2165 words) |
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