Anybody who’s appropriately studied their classics knows that there’s a name for stories about sons rebelling against their fathers: Oedipal. The name is taken from the Greek myth of the hero Oedipus, who was fated to kill his father. In spite of the Greek tragic hero’s many attempts to cheat his fate, it’s those very attempts that result in the father-killing prophecy coming true.
Red River concerns itself a little less with the aspect of destiny (though manifest destiny certainly plays a role throughout) and more with bubbling frictions between John Dunson (Wayne) and his son Matt Garth (Clift), who he adopts in the film’s prologue. Dunson raises Matt as his own, with Matt remaining the loyalist of companions. However, casting here proves essential, particularly in regard to the film’s theme of expiring masculinity.
While Wayne was known as the tough guy, a man’s man who takes no prisoners, Clift (though his stardom was still marinating at this point) became known for his kind eyes and sensitive exterior. In fact, it’s only through his friendship with another young man (John Ireland as sharpshooter Cherry Valance) that he decides to push back on his father’s despotic leadership.
When Dunson begins abusing his authority over the course of the cattle drive, Matt tries to assist him, only to draw the line when the boss threatens to lynch the deserters of their crew. Even if the film was made in 1948 and set in the 1800s, what’s on display here is the everlasting tyrannical ways of the older generation versus the more proletarian, group-oriented focus of the youth.
It’s worth noting that not only is Cherry the one who urges Matt to think differently, but their introductory scene sees them comparing and admiring one another’s pistols, reinforcing the notion that Westerns were queer way before Brokeback Mountain or even Butch Cassidy.