Popular Culture Review Vol. 14, No. 1, February 2003 | Page 130

126

Popular Culture Review

larger thematic level, personal honor is even greater than political differences in
The Undefeated. The sacrifice of Thomas and his men ultimately becomes the
agent of total reunification in a way that the promise of a new frontier and a new
start cannot. North and South cannot be reunited by the mythos of the West, nor by
the geography of south of the border. Instead, they can only be reconciled by the
application of a higher moral code, that of one’s duty to personal honor above all
else.
At the conclusion of the film, John Henry Thomas races his herd to Durango,
fighting past a column of Maximilian’s own troops blocking the way. The horses
arrive, in the proverbial nick of time, just before any of Roja’s hostages are shot.
After the release of the captives (“You drive a hard bargain, General,” says Tho
mas to Rojas, and Rojas replies “War is war. You should know that”), James Langdon
intends to return to his home in the Reconstructed South, telling his sergeant-atarms, Jeff Newby (played by Bruce Cabot): “Well, the only place a man can raise
more hell than he can in a war is on the floor of the House of Representatives. An
old friend of mine once told me people like to vote for heroes. So, I guess that’s
what I’ll do.” John Henry Thomas also plans to return north of the border to the
Oklahoma Territory, to start a ranch. He has developed a love interest with Marga
ret Langdon, sister-in-law to James Langdon and widow to Langdon’s brother,
who was killed in action during the war (ironically, in the same battle as fought by
John Henry). Thomas’ adopted Cherokee son. Blue Boy, leader of the Indians who
are horse-punching alongside John Henry’s cowboys, is also involved in a roman
tic relationship of his own, with Langdon’s sixteen-year old daughter, Charlotte.
Romance, it seems, has combined with honor to reinvigorate and reengage these
still “undefeated” warriors of the Civil War.
The film’s political message also contains a practical one: that over-weening
pride in the pursuit of a cause can be destructive. Compromise, at both the political
and personal level, is preferable to destructive pride. During the opening scene of
the film, for example, the last symbolic battle of the Civil War is being fought.
John Henry Thomas leads his soldiers against a rag-tag group of Rebel defenders
who can barely stand, let alone shoot their guns. This nameless, placeless battle is
quickly decided, and as John Henry surveys the bloody battlefield strewn with the
bodies of dead men, a messenger arrives announcing that the war is ended, that
Lee has surrendered at Appomattox three days earlier. We, the film’s viewers, then
realize along with John Henry that this last battle was unnecessary. John Henry
next proceeds under a flag of truce to the Confederate camp to tell the Rebels of
the news. He is met by a rebel Major who is missing an arm (lost during the war,
we suppose). When John Henry informs the Major of the news, the Major replies
that they knew of Lee’s surrender a day earlier. An astonished John Henry asks
why the Rebels fought a battle that they didn’t need to fight, and the Major says: