The Marshal and the Contender: Allegories of HUAC in High Noon and On the Waterfront

By Hope Abel

High Noon (Zinnemann, 1952) and On the Waterfront (Kazan, 1954) are two of the most famous and well-regarded films in American history. Released just two years apart, they lie on opposing sides of the contemporaneous House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) trials—High Noon is generally read as an anti-HUAC allegory while On the Waterfront is regarded as Kazan’s defense of his decision to “name names” to the HUAC. The primary bases of these claims come from their creators: director Elia Kazan of On the Waterfront and screenwriter Carl Foreman of High Noon (the latter was blacklisted after making this film). In spite of their contrasting political messages, the films share many similarities in their depictions of integrity, morality, cowardice, masculinity, religion, and individualism, among others. In comparing how High Noon and On the Waterfront present these topics and their allegorical representation of HUAC, I argue that these films utilize the same themes, narrative structures, and innovative filmic techniques to defend their creator’s decisions to be friendly or unfriendly witnesses. 

Both films thematically center on integrity, and having the strength to do what is morally right, which was the main question circumventing the actions of the HUAC witnesses. In High Noon, former marshal Will Kane (Gary Cooper) is a symbol of justice as the only one brave enough to stand up to criminal Frank Miller. Years earlier, Miller, along with his friends, destroyed the town until Kane stopped him. However, as Kane now prepares to leave town with his new wife, he receives a telegram that Miller has been released from prison and is returning to Hadleyville on the noon train. Kane leaves town, but quickly turns back, as he feels a personal responsibility to detain Frank Miller once and for all. He tries to rally men from the town to help, but is unsuccessful, and eventually decides to face Miller and his posse alone. This plot mirrors screenwriter Carl Foreman’s own experiences as an unfriendly or uncooperative witness in the HUAC trials. Initially, Foreman thought of an non-western idea of a sheriff struggling to raise support amid the creation of the United Nations. However, as the HUAC trials began to unfold, Foreman was called to testify and pleaded the Fifth Amendment. His refusal to cooperate led to the film’s producer, Stanley Kramer, swiftly cutting ties with him. That separation prompted Foreman to change his allegory, as Will Kane suddenly represented “Foreman himself, a courageous man hounded by villains and abandoned by friends. The Miller gang was HUAC, the townspeople were the friendly witnesses, and Kramer was Mayor Jonas Henderson, the ultimate traitor. Foreman began a new draft. ‘I became that guy,’ he later told an interviewer; ‘I became the Gary Cooper character’” (Harpham 38). By associating Kane with Foreman, the film ideologically projects the rightness of Foreman’s choice by connecting him to the detective character with the strongest sense of justice. 

On the Waterfront similarly connects its protagonist to both its creator and its moral center; however, its allegory represents the opposing side of the trials. In this story, a man named Terry Malloy works for crime leader Johnny Friendly, and is unwittingly involved in the murder of Joey Doyle. He soon falls for Joey’s sister Edie, which complicates matters as he wrestles with his desire to tell her the truth or to maintain their relationship. Ultimately, after the death of his own brother, Terry decides he must be honest with Edie and, during his subpoena, names Johnny Friendly as the leader of the criminal gang. Kazan had been vocal about his own personal identification with Terry, but his formal testimony directly connects the scene to Kazan’s participation in the HUAC trials (Smith 140). While it is clear Terry is trying to do the right thing, the movie as a whole is much more morally ambiguous than High Noon, which suits Kazan’s more complicated position and involvement with HUAC. On the Waterfront is often viewed as Kazan’s justification for informing, “as if there were a similarity between testifying before a crime commission about waterfront corruption, as Terry did, and disclosing the names of members of a party that was never outlawed in the United States,” as Kazan did (Dick 238). Nonetheless, both Kazan and Foreman recognized and admitted to identification with their lead protagonist, and in so doing, represented their sides of the HUAC trials in their respective films. 

The narratives of each film are influenced by their respective genres— western for High Noon and social drama for On the Waterfront—yet their portrayals of corruption are strikingly similar. Overall, the “theme of corruption—individual, social, or political—was an important tool for leftist filmmakers of the postwar period, who sought to use the western as a vehicle for commentary on HUAC’s and McCarthy’s treachery…High Noon is perhaps the classic example of this type of western allegory” (Smith 209). High Noon portrays corruption as not only inherent to its villains, but also asserts there is some degree of corruption already present within the community. While crime is not rampant, the townspeople are content with the status quo, or are even in favor of the non-reputable business Frank Miller would bring to the saloons. Its “dramatization of collective cowardice” becomes the more poignant form of corruption, and Richard Slotkin even goes so far as to note that “Miller’s return is a metaphorical way of identifying McCarthyism with Fascism: the same people who in an earlier and less prosperous time had risen up to defeat the enemy have now grown too comfortable or complacent to risk their lives and fortunes for the public good” (qtd. in Smith 209). In this way, the more passive corruption of the town’s refusal to help exacerbates the imminent threat of the Miller posse. While danger is still arriving with Miller on the noon train, the fear and tension created by his imminent arrival is amplified with every person that says no to standing up with Kane. 

On the Waterfront similarly shows both active and passive corruption within the working relationships of the longshoremen. The film’s main depiction of corruption is the docks themselves, run by the criminal Friendly and the rest of his mob. However, the fear they instill in the community—demonstrated in scenes such as one where they attack a church gathering—keeps the workers silent, much to the frustration of Father Barry. Even after Terry finally speaks out and names Friendly during his subpoena, his friends and the rest of the workers turn their back on him. Though upset, the workers stand by to witness Terry being beaten up by the gang, and it is only when Terry gets up and walks through the doors without their help that they support him. Thus, both films use the theme of corruption to highlight not only the criminals that threaten everyday life, but also the dangers of being a passive bystander. The HUAC trials presented a unique moment in American history, in which people had to choose to defend themselves or others, amid variable consequences. There was not a clear right or wrong option in regard to testifying, as “when one chooses between the lesser of two evils, one is still left with evil,” but both films utilize corruption to point out the precariousness of the greater community’s safety amid criminal control (Smith 147).

In addition to their genres, High Noon and On the Waterfront have distinctive filmic techniques that influence and intensify their themes of integrity and corruption. High Noon was one of the first American major studio films to run in “real time,” meaning the characters experience the natural flow of time rather than using the editing to jump temporally. So in effect, the entire narrative takes place over roughly the same length of time as the duration of the film. While audiences thought this was unusual for a western, it also bolstered its popularity, because of how the temporal device amplifies the suspense (Dick 238). Many shots are of clocks and the sound of ticking, similarly emphasizing the imminent arrival of Kane and Miller’s showdown. Frequent cuts to the train station and messages that the noon train is on time also work to amplify tension leading up to the meeting. This emphasis on time can similarly be applied to the contemporary topic of blacklisting, as many filmmakers ran out of time—or were suddenly exiled with little to no warning. Time continues to tick down no matter what, as Kane cannot control it, and he is forced to make the best of what little time he does have. 

While On the Waterfront does not run in real time, the film employs its own innovative cinematic technique through its visual elements rather than narrative. The film has a distinctive visual feature in how it emphasizes the heights and levels of characters through angle and setting. The titular waterfront is sea level, while the Friendly cabin on the docks is even lower, thereby visually establishing their lower moral status due to their criminal activities. Meanwhile, Terry is consistently shown tending to his flock of pigeons on the roof. By positioning him higher than both sea level and the Friendly cabin, the film visually alludes to his success, as well as his potential for good. While he is on the topmost level, he is often in the coop with the birds, and subsequently metaphorically caged—ostensibly due to his involvement in the mob. In the opening scene of Joey’s death, he falls from the roof: raising a narrative question of whether Terry will similarly fall to his death if he speaks out or if he will fall, metaphorically, if he stays silent. Overall, both films utilize distinctive cinematic features such as real time and vertical distance to emphasize the themes of integrity and morality. 

Both films also use Christian religious principles to emphasize the moral stakes of righteousness or corruption. In High Noon, Kane interrupts a church sermon in order to gather any men willing to stand up to Miller with him. The preacher begins reading from the book of Malachi, chapter four, a passage about the coming of Judgment Day. While the verse is only partially read, this reference to Judgment Day is extremely thematically significant. Judgement Day references the day when Jesus will judge everyone living and dead for their sins, and determine who goes to heaven and who goes to hell. It is clear that Kane himself is not particularly religious himself: the preacher calls him out for not often coming to church, as well as getting married that morning outside of the Christian faith. Kane disputes the latter claim, as his new wife Amy is a Quaker, though he makes no objection to the statement that he is not as Christian as the rest of the townspeople. However, Kane is already established as a force of integrity with a strong sense of morality, so the scene reads not as an attempt to advance Christian faith, but rather a moral dilemma facing the churchgoers as they decide whether or not to stand with Kane. This reference to Judgment Day serves to emphasize the importance of choice and the consequences that follow them. The reference seems to imply that, even though Kane and the other townspeople may forget this brawl and who stood with who, there is a greater witnessing force that will not be so forgiving. 

On the Waterfront’s religious references are even more direct: Father Barry is determined to end the corruption on the waterfront, yet he is powerless to influence the workers because of Friendly’s mob intimidation. Father Barry is a Catholic priest and is animated about saving the souls of his parish from sin and the crimes of the mob. Unlike the other priests, Father Barry believes that the longshoremen are worth saving as he shouts on the docks, “This is my church! And if you don’t think Christ is down here on the waterfront, you’ve got another guess coming!” (On the Waterfront). Father Barry is the first to organize a group to stand up to the mob, though no one speaks aloud until their meeting is violently attacked. He faces several setbacks, as those he convinces to testify are quickly killed by the mob, e.g. the organization of Kayo Dugan’s murder. Standing over Dugan’s body, Father Barry gives an impassioned speech about crucifixion to the workers. His comparisons martyr those who were killed trying to speak the truth. While Terry listens to the speech, Father Barry only later convinces him to name Friendly in his subpoena by talking to him individually. Terry worries about the consequences of telling the truth, saying “If I spill, my life ain’t worth a nickel,” while Father Barry is concerned with the larger issues at work. He replies, “And how much is your soul worth if you don’t?” (On the Waterfront). The climactic scene in which Terry is brutalized by Friendly’s gang then gets up to walk to work can even be seen metaphorically as a Christ-like death and resurrection. Though seemingly impossible, Terry gets to his feet and inspires the collective dockworkers to finally end the mob’s corrupt hold on the waterfront. In this way, both films employ religion to emphasize the larger moral stakes at play in their narrative contexts. In establishing Christian principles, the consequences of silence are asserted as a moral reckoning—in the afterlife, if not immediately. The religious aspects of High Noon and On the Waterfront bear witness to collective silence, and further examine the issue of doing what is right, no matter the consequences. 

It is this definition of what is right that separates the two films’ allegorical messages. While audiences enjoyed High Noon tremendously, there is no record of any contemporary popular consensus on, or reading of, the HUAC allegory on account of Foreman’s involvement. However, some within the Hollywood community certainly noticed. One person who acknowledged the connection was Tim Durant, an actor and close friend of Charlie Chaplin who was blacklisted around the same time as the film’s release. In a letter to Zinnemann, Durant wrote: 

“Through the courtesy of George Glass I had the rare and thrilling experience of seeing yesterday, one of the best so-called ‘Westerns’ ever made. I’ve seen them all from the days of Bronco Billy, and if my judgement is worth anything, High Noon will take its permanent place among the classics in that field…Nearly everyone experiences at least one in their life a time when they must face the impending and all-terrifying crisis absolutely alone. It is an enriching emotional and spiritual experience to vicariously feel the example of one mere human who accepted the challenge. May his acceptance inspire others to do likewise. I would love to show this picture to Chaplin, not only for aesthetic reasons, but for the satisfaction of a certain amount of self-identification” (qtd. Smyth 48). 

This letter proves that some contemporaneous viewers, particularly industry professionals, were able to see a connection between High Noon and the HUAC trials. On the Waterfront similarly has few resources in determining mass audience reactions to its HUAC allegory. While Kazan’s testimony was public, and he even took out an ad in a newspaper encouraging others to testify, the HUAC connection to High Noon was absent in reviews and print; likely due to censorship regarding the trials and blacklisting. However, Kazan’s legacy was forever tarnished, as he “c[a]me to symbolize Hollywood’s own recollections of its darkest period…The acclaim of Kazan’s films made him a convenient scapegoat for those who paid the price that he refused” (Smith 146). When Kazan received an honorary Oscar in 1999, he was met with a mixed response: some stood and applauded while others sat on their hands. 250 protesters gathered outside of the theater in anger, which shows that—if not immediately during On the Waterfront’s release—Kazan’s troubled involvement with HUAC eventually reached the public. 

Overall, High Noon and On the Waterfront share similar themes of integrity, morality, corruption, and religion, as well as narrative structures emphasizing the collective cowardice of the bystander community—though they ultimately remain on opposing sides of their HUAC allegories. Both films employ a strong sense of morality to defend their creator’s actions during the trials by proxy, whether it was pleading the Fifth Amendment or giving names to HUAC. Both films were huge successes upon release, both winning Best Actor for their leads’ performances. Seventy years after their release, both films remain highly received, with both included in the inaugural group of films preserved in the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress. In determining their allegorical representations of HUAC, it is not only important but vital to understand their contemporary context and the lives of their filmmakers. The intense censorship and blacklisting circa HUAC severely limited any direct or explicit reference to its activities. Therefore, understanding the full impact of these successful and historically significant films necessitates a more nuanced perspective on their legacies—and the legacies of their creators.

Works Cited 

Dick, Bernard F. "The Potato Eater Priest: On the Waterfront’s Father Barry and His Real-Life Counterpart." American Communist History, vol. 9, no. 3, Routledge, 2010, pp. 235–38, https://doi.org/10.1080/14743892.2010.533877. 

Harpham, Geoffrey Galt. "America in and at High Noon." Raritan, vol. 38, no. 2, RARITAN-A QUARTERLY REVIEW, 2018, pp. 37–64. 

High Noon. Directed by Fred Zinnemann, screenplay by Carl Foreman, United Artists, 1952. 

On the Waterfront. Directed by Elia Kazan, Columbia Pictures, 1954. 

Smith, Jeff. Film Criticism, the Cold War, and the Blacklist: Reading the Hollywood Reds. 1st ed., University of California Press, 2014, https://doi.org/10.1525/j.ctt6wqb6x. 

Smyth, J. E. "The Western That Got Its Content 'From Elsewhere': High Noon, Fred Zinnemann, and Genre Cleansing." Quarterly Review of Film and Video, vol. 31, no. 1, Taylor & Francis, 2014, pp. 42–55, doi:10.1080/10509208.2011.593960.