The Furies

Synopsis: The 1870s, New Mexico territory: T.C. Jeffords is a cattle baron who built his ranch, the Furies, from scratch. He borrows from banks, pays hired hands with his own script ("T.C.'s"), and carries on low-level warfare with the Mexicans who settled the land but are now considered squatters. He has enemies, including Rip Darrow, a saloon owner who's father T.C. took land from. His headstrong daughter, Vance, has a life-long friend in one of the Mexicans, her heart set on Rip, and dad's promise she'll run the Furies someday. Her hopes are smashed by Rip's revenge, a gold-digger who turns T.C.'s head, and T.C.'s own murderous imperialism. Is Vance to be cursed by fury and hatred?
Director(s): Anthony Mann
Production: Paramount Pictures
 
IMDB:
7.4
NOT RATED
Year:
1950
109 min
293 Views


- Buenas noches, patrn.

- Good evening.

Gracias.

So it's you.

I might have known.

I might have known no one but you would

have bone enough to come into her room here.

I neglected to order a gown for your wedding.

I'm trying to make one of hers do.

I think a sister should favor her brother's

wedding with her best appearance, don't you?

I don't think T.C. Will like this, Vance.

You know he's been particular about

keeping her room same as before she died.

Mother had everything.

Calling cards for a woman whose

next-door neighbor was miles off.

Jewels for a woman who never

looked at herself in the mirror.

Sunshades for a woman

who never left this room.

You understood her.

I never did.

No, you never did.

I'm only surprised he hasn't

hung a sign on this.

"Beth. Wifely property ofT.C. Jeffords."

And you're T.C.'s son,

and he despises anything he can beat.

I never let him beat me.

Why do you always let him get the best of you?

Isn't it writ in the Scripture?

"Honor thy father."

Always laughing at me inside you,

aren't you, Clay?

Not always.

Why do you suppose T.C. Is coming back

from San Francisco?

- Why, for my wedding, of course.

- Ha!

I know. T.C. Wouldn't

walk across the street to my wedding.

- Then why is he coming back?

- I think he needs money.

T.C.? Oh, you must be moon-hit.

Why, he's one of the richest men

in the territory- in the whole country.

Cattle-rich. Land-rich.

I make it he's money-poor right now.

And I make it that's why

he's had Scotty taking tally.

And that's why

he's spreading these I.O.U.s.

Oh, they're easy to spread.

Less easy to pay off.

T.C.!

Patrn.! Patrn.!

Welcome home.

Had a hankerir to bed down

in my own tepee tonight.

Got the railroad to flag me

right through to The Furies.

You were in her room.

That's right.

Her gown befiits you.

Father.

Son, you make "Father" sound

just like "son of a she-fox."

Daughter, Son, meet Reynolds here.

Reynolds from

Old Anaheim's Bank in San Francisco.

Reynolds, meet my household.

Scratch my sixth lumbar vertebra.

This here is Scotty Hyslip.

Scotty keeps my accounts.

The man who made all those bear raids

on the Huron Railroad stock...

and then took to swindlir

on the sound theory...

that the things folks want most in life

is to get something for nothing.

Oh, souvenir. The time I met up

with a party of Osages...

and got an arrow

in my sixth lumbar vertebra.

The scar vexes me now and then and takes

kindly to scratchir.

This be El Tigre!

The Tiger.

- My ranch boss.

- Senor.

El Tigre won victory after victory, for his

love of his people was known to his people.

Then he hung a man.

And it was justly.

He was so taken with the dance on the air

he begun hanging his people.

And unjustly.

His people took just so many hangings.

You tell Old Anaheim I got only the best

working The Furies for me.

Marcel, my cook there, once dished up a mess

Napolon would give him a blue ribbon for.

And when I gifted my deceased wife...

with a portrait of myself, I -

Pretty good, huh?

Chiquita.

- There's dust on me.

- S, patrn. But I did not expect you until tomorrow.

Cook here will rustle up a fiine mess

for an hour from now.

Ah, vamoose, the rest of ya.

I got a hankering to be with my kin. Vamoose!

Vamoose!

- T.C., you talk too much.

- So I do, and so I will...

till I meet up with talk better than mine.

- Where is it?

- Where's what?

- The necklace you said you'd bring back.

- Clay, you got a mess of good manners.

You ought to feed your sister

some of'em.

Well, here's what you been

"peskying" me about.

Pearls. Fit for dull, dove-faced little women.

I told you, anything but pearls.

You didn't dare come back

without it, did you?

I'd bed down with a rattlesnake fiirst.

Like it, Daughter?

So did I.

It'll match her earrings.

Well, I'll go up to my room now.

For your bride.

My deepest gratitude, Father.

An hour in the room whenever

he comes back to The Furies...

an hour whenever he leaves.

And yet when she was dying

and sent for him, he wouldn't come.

He couldn't stand to see anything

that belonged to him slip away from him.

I like being T.C.'s daughter.

Yes, princess,

heiress apparent to The Furies.

Good water and graze here.

Anaheim picked himself

a smart appraiser.

This is the Darrow Strip,

best part ofThe Furies.

Darrow's son -

he is come back to the town.

I thought I'd seen me

the last piece of Darrow hide.

If you permit, patrn,

leave this piece to me, eh?

I permit.

Come on.

- What's that?

- Sounds like a calf bawlir.

- Where do you make it?

- There. Down the draw.

Be a lesson to him

not to get himself stuck in the mud.

He didn't get stuck.

He's been stuck. It's a squatter's trick.

They mire a calf

and then come for him later.

- No, no. You'll choke him. I'll get him.

- You'll do what?

- You heard me.

- Many squatters here on The Furies?

- Some.

The people in the pueblecitos -

the little villages - they matter not...

but back in the hills there are others.

You're paid to make sure

the squatters don't rob us.

- Next time earn your pay.

Quite a friendship

between you and Miss Vance.

Women were created so that man

might enjoy his food and sleep...

not to give orders.

All right now!

Come on.! Now take it easy.

I'm trying to lend you a hand!

- Patrn.

Ha! Did it!

Didrt think the old man had it in him,

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Charles Schnee

For the American producer (1920-2009), see Charles Schneer.Charles Schnee (6 August 1916 Bridgeport, Connecticut - 29 November 1963 Beverly Hills, California) gave up law to become a screenwriter in the mid-1940s, crafting scripts for the classic Westerns Red River (1948) and The Furies (1950), the social melodrama They Live By Night (1949), and the cynical Hollywood saga The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), for which he won an Academy Award. He worked primarily as a film producer and production executive during the mid-1950s (credits include Until They Sail), but he eventually turned his attention back to scriptwriting. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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