Typical of the later period Howard Hawks films, Rio Bravo moves at a remarkably leisurely pace and remains so unassuming at times that the effectiveness of its dramatic set-ups and exchanges are often not noticed until it's moved on to the next scene.  Once again, Hawks returns to a confined space where men are defined by their professional skills and heroes by their adherence to a strict moral code.  The set-up here is as basic as they come; Sheriff John T. Chance (John Wayne) is holding a murderer with only the help of his two skilled, yet damaged deputies - Stumpy (Walter Brennan) and Dude (Dean Martin) - as an increasing number of hired killers hold the town hostage waiting for the perfect moment to siege.  Hawks enriches this barebones central plot with various intermingling character arcs and storylines, all functional yet given room to breathe, ebbing and flowing through serious drama and lighthearted comedy. 

As usual, the Hawksian protagonist Chance is more comfortable with a rifle in his hands than a woman and where the first makes for some thrilling shoot-outs, the latter veers the film into the realm of romantic comedy that Hawks was equally comfortable with.  The film's laid back nature gives ample screen time to the secondary characters, each of which must prove themselves "good enough" to enter Chance's fold.  Perhaps the most perfect summation of Hawk's perspective on professionalism, Chance makes it work with what he has and refuses to accept help from the townspeople or amateur gunmen, realizing they will only get themselves kid.  And who can forget the immortal exchange between Chance's friend who says, "That's all you got?" to which he replies simply, "That's what I got."  There is surely a bit of arrogance in the way Chance carries himself, but as the clear-cut patriarchal figure in the community, it comes more from a sense of duty and an unwillingness to compromise his morals simply to increase the odds of saving his own skin.

Along with Chance, Hawks brings us a number of other unique, fascinating figures, working them each into the narrative like background melodies and tonal shifts in a piece of classical music.  The comparison to music is fitting for this particular Hawks film, whose opening goes over 5 minutes without dialogue, the camera tracking the alcoholic Dude as he wanders throughout a saloon barely fighting off the desire for a drink.  After a man gets shot for next to no reason, the sequence ends in a smaller bar in town where Chance knocks out the murderer with the butt of his gun, finishing his swing with a 360-degree spin.  It is most certainly the closest John Wayne ever had and would look like a ballerina, but it signifies the start of the main conflict with a dramatic punctuation that finally gives you the signal to start breathing again.

In the same way Hawks carefully structures the intro to lead us the film's central conflict, so do his various motifs and asides build the characters in a way that develops their individuality as well as their place in the ever-changing group dynamic.  Some are comical - Dude's repeated failure to role a cigarette, Stumpy's bickering, Chance's frustration at the Feather's advances - and other's are dramatic and heartfelt - Dude's battle with alcoholism, Chance's balancing duty with his burgeoning love, Feather's struggles to leave the past behind her, but all are delivered with stunning clarity and efficiency.  What makes Rio Bravo a truly great film however is the way that each character is given the space and time (within the film and by the characters) to find their place and operate with their own free will.  Dude's sobriety is never forced upon him, Chance is rarely questioned no matter how outlandish his decisions are, Colorado is never pushed to help them even once they realize he's good enough help them come out alive, and Feather won't let Chance off the hook until he admits he loves her yet she never says it for him.  This whole group dynamic is slowly shaped throughout the film until they finally function as a well-oiled machine in the final shoot-out.  It's an admirable display of honor and professionalism, but it's inclusion of Stumpy and the hotel owner give it a comic and humane pulse that make it stand out as perhaps the greatest of Hawks finales.  And due to this seamless combination of comedy, tragedy, humanity and toughness, I would argue too that it's the great of all Hawks' films period.