Jonas Mekas referred to Marilyn Monroe’s character in this end-of-the-line western as “The saint of the Nevada Desert.” “It is she who tells the truth in the movie, who accuses, judges, reveals.” Huston’s lone collaboration with writer Arthur Miller—a tough, ambiguous morality play about a principled divorcée torn between her love for an aging cowboy (Clark Gable) and her attachment to the natural world he wants to control—is storied for its troubled production (Monroe’s marriage to Miller practically came apart on set) and turned out to be the final film for both of its stars. But no context is necessary to see The Misfits for the elegy it is: a work of deep, ennobled desperation, and one of Huston’s mid-career high points.