Dude Cowboy (1941)

This B-western with Tim Holt is an entertaining mix of the genre’s usual elements, with some excellent western swing songs by Ray Whitley. Holt is a likable presence on screen and bears a resemblance at times, in both looks and temperament, to the young Roy Rogers.

Plot. Holt is hired by the G-men to find a kidnapped engraver (Byron Foulger), whose disappearance is linked to the passing of counterfeit money at a dude ranch casino near Silver City, Nevada. The missing man’s daughter (Marjorie Reynolds) turns up at the ranch in search of her father, about the same time as Holt.

The two find him slaving away in a cave, where the casino owner (Eddie Kane) has set up the counterfeiting operation. Holt’s true identity is discovered by Kane, whose henchmen take Holt prisoner. He escapes, and a chase follows an exchange of gunfire. Holt and Reynolds rescue the exhausted Foulger, and the sheriff apprehends the crooks.

In a comic subplot, a hawker of patent medicine (Lee “Lasses” White) attracts the attention of a dude ranch guest (Helen Holmes) who gamely pursues him. Discovering that he and Holt are being held captive, she inadvertently helps them get away. Attempting to follow them as they leave the ranch, she saddles and rides an uncooperative mule. In the end, she has become owner of the ranch and brings in a parson to tie the knot with White, who quickly heads for the hills.

Tim Holt, c1948

Tim Holt. Still in his early twenties, Holt doesn’t quite have the stature of other cowboy stars. There’s a boyish quality about him, and he laughs often, in a way that suggests wholesomeness and decency, but also inexperience. A sidearm on his hip is more of an accessory than a weapon. You hope he doesn’t have to use it. Costuming him in a bulky coat and a flat crowned hat tends to diminish his already diminutive size. But he looks comfortable on a horse. You have to give him that.

Holt’s obvious youth may be what allows him to duck a romantic involvement with either of his female co-stars. A brassy blonde at the dude ranch (Louise Currey) sets her eye on him and comes on strong. But he politely evades her come-ons. As he and Marjorie Reynolds rescue her father, it’s all business between them. He rides off at the end saying he’ll call, but there’s no reason to think he will.

Tim Holt had been a juvenile actor, growing up the son of Jack Holt who was a film actor and whose extensive career began with the early Silents. By the time he’d become established in B-westerns, Tim Holt had already appeared as the cavalry officer in John Ford’s Stagecoach (1939).

The peak of his career would come later in the 1940s, with roles playing Virgil Earp in My Darling Clementine (1946) and in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948). It should also be noted that he was a decorated member of the Armed Forces during WWII, receiving the Purple Heart among several other honors.

Marjorie Reynolds

Wrapping up. As an example of the genre, the script by Morton Grant and direction by David Howard are both competent and confident. Grant wrote a dozen westerns during the war years of the 1940s, sharing credits for the 1943 adaptation of Clarence Mulford’s Bar 20 (1943), which starred William Boyd as Hopalong Cassidy. Howard had directed numerous B-movies in the 1930s, and his career stopped in mid-stride with this his final film before his death in 1941.

Playing opposite Holt was Marjorie Reynolds, whose long career in both film and TV included the role of Peg Riley in the 1950s TV series, The Life of Riley. A familiar and distinctive face in the cast is character actor Byron Foulger as the kidnapped father. Foulger is credited with over 450 screen roles over a film and TV career of more than four decades.

Ray Whitley

The film was shot on ranches in Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley and in the Bronson Caves of Griffith Park. The period in which the story takes place is that ambivalent Hollywood mix of Old and New West. The train in the opening scene looks modern, but there are no automobiles, and transportation is provided by horse-drawn wagons. Meanwhile, the dude ranch is served by a telephone, and the women characters are duded out in 40s-style western outfits with 40s hairstyles.

For real added value, the film features tunes sung by Ray Whitley, manager of the western singing group The Sons of the Pioneers. Whitley wrote music for numerous films and is remembered for Gene Autry's signature song, "Back in the Saddle Again." Here's a clip of Dude Cowboy with Holt and Whitley.



For more of Tuesday’s Overlooked Movies, click over to Todd Mason’sblog.

Source: imdb.com

Coming up: Alfred Henry Lewis, Wolfville (1897)

Hearts of the West (1975)

I had remembered this film fondly from the 1970s, but didn’t remember very much about it. Seeing it again recently on TCM, I now know why. Despite an excellent cast there’s not too much about it that’s memorable.

Plot. It’s the 1930s. Jeff Bridges is an Iowa farm boy with aspirations and an imagination much like Robert E. Howard’s. “I’m a writer,” he tells everyone, with a confident grin. “Western prose,” he clarifies.

Going to Nevada for inspiration, he gets tangled up with two crooks running a bogus school for writers. On the run from them, he stumbles into a movie crew shooting a western. He befriends a director’s assistant (Blythe Danner), who helps him get a job as an extra, and he rises quickly through the B-movie ranks to near-stardom.

Holding out for more money on the bad advice of another actor (Andy Griffiths), he finds himself out of work. Desperate to get his writing career back on track, he hands a manuscript for a novel to Griffiths, who then passes it on, claiming he’s the author. The two crooks finally catch up with Bridges; there’s an exchange of gunfire; and he is last seen on the way to the hospital, turning over what’s happened into yet another western story.

Andy Griffiths, Jeff Bridges

Good, but. The bare bones of this plot are enough to hang an entertaining film on about the movie business. It’s predictable in maybe too many ways, but a good cast, clever writing, good direction, and editing can make you forget all that.

And you can’t fault the cast. The performances are great, and the young Jeff Bridges is a delight. Also in the cast are Donald Pleasence and Alan Arkin. So you wonder about the rest, because long stretches of the movie seem flat and slow and won’t come to life.

It doesn’t help that the film, which is supposed to be a comedy, runs over 100 minutes. A seduction scene in which Danner tries to maneuver Bridges into bed takes forever. Maybe it’s that muddled feeling about a lot of 1970s movies that were reluctant to ramp up the stakes for the characters. Indifferent to plot, they count on the patience and attention span of the audience and end up seeming aimless.

Meanwhile, for someone interested in getting a behind the scenes look at B-movie cowboy pictures, there is too little of that. For those interested in the period, there are some vague references to the 1930s. A poster for a Garbo movie adorns a wall; there are old pop songs on the radio; the characters drive vintage cars; and there are art deco credits at the end. That’s about it.

Wrapping up. I’m not an insider, and you get the feeling that maybe the film has a lot of insider jokes that would amuse a Hollywood audience. Anyway, it would have been better to go on thinking this was a great little sleeper film that somehow disappeared. Now I wish I’d left the memory of a much better movie undisturbed.

For a more entertaining alternative, Blake Edwards’ Sunset (1988), with Bruce Willis as Tom Mix and James Garner as Wyatt Earp, is far-fetched but far more fun. For more of Tuesday's Overlooked Movies, click on over to Todd Mason's blog, Sweet Freedom.

Coming up: Marie Manning, Judith of the Plains (1903)

Rimfire (1949)

This B-western gets a B+ for its sheer ambition. Not satisfied with being an energetic spin on every western cliché, it borrows some from a couple other genres, too. Besides hold-ups, barroom brawls, and a hanging, there’s music, comedy, a sultry saloon girl, and a ghost, all for the price of a single admission.

In 1949, it’s exactly what would have shown second in a double feature at the Island Theatre in Grand Island, Nebraska, where I grew up—and probably on the Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday bill, as the program changed there twice a week. And only a walking encyclopedia of movie and TV trivia would recognize the names of the Hollywood veterans responsible for this one.

Plot. Our hero, played by James Millican, stops a stage robbery in the first scene, and while the robbers make off with a box of gold bullion, he saves the passengers from further insult. They include a tall, sleek gambler (Reed Hadley), who goes by the name of the Abilene Kid, and a pretty blonde girl named Polly (Mary Beth Hughes), daughter of the sheriff in nearby Stringtown, New Mexico.

For his efforts, Millican is taken on as a deputy sheriff in Stringtown, and we learn that the saloon owner’s goons have robbed the stagecoach. A dispute over a card game ignites the afore-mentioned barroom brawl, after which the Abilene Kid is arrested for cheating with a marked deck.

Smith & Wesson, Model 1, .22 rimfire revolver

It’s apparently a hanging offense in Stringtown, and the Kid is tried and found guilty by a show of hands. Justice is swift and he is hanged the next morning, proclaiming his innocence. Soon after, a mysterious series of deaths occurs, the killer leaving behind a playing card starting with the deuce of spades and working his way up through the suit. Suspicion points to the dead gambler.

By the time we get to the face cards, the newspaper has already been printing scare headlines about a “ghost killer.” People have begun to leave town, but to no avail. The sheriff and his new deputy puzzle over the clues, while the saloon girl and Polly, the sheriff’s daughter, take an interest in the deputy.

Unencumbered by anything but unadulterated regard for the opposite sex, the deputy calmly resists the steamy advances of the saloon girl but gets tongue-tied around the pretty Polly. Before the town’s population is reduced to zero, he discovers the stolen gold, solves the mystery, and gets over his girl troubles.

Fuzzy Knight, from The Adventures of Gallant Bess (1952)

Added value. Comic actor Fuzzy Knight plays several scenes of buffoonery with Chris-Pin Martin as a stereotype Mexican. Fuzzy takes a turn at the piano in the saloon and belts out a rendition of “Bad Old Stagger Lee.” When there’s news that Ulysses S. Grant, a Republican, has been elected president, he looks into the camera and says, “I never knew there was anything except Democrats.”

Camera work and editing deserve mention. The opening sequence grabs you with a stagecoach at full gallop being pursued by four men on horses with guns. The title RIMFIRE appears on the screen, and the letters are blown to bits, each by a single gunshot.

Much in the style of early television, when TV screens were small and tight close-ups became common, the film lets us get a good look at faces. At the hanging, which has drawn a crowd, the scene cuts from one close-up to another, capturing reaction shots. Then the camera slowly pans across them while the Abilene Kid makes his final speech.

Minor characters have moments that fix them clearly in the imagination. The newspaper editor has a prickly disposition, muttering "Law and order" in a scornful tone after the trial. The judge himself is a gruff man obviously impatient with the ignorance of the town's residents.

Altogether, director B. Reeves Eason has whipped together an action-packed 63 minutes of western excitement. The film has been released on DVD as a double feature of “western film noir” with Little Big Horn (1951) starring Lloyd Bridges. Tuesday’s Overlooked Movies is the much-appreciated effort of Todd Mason over at Sweet Freedom.

Coming up: Dagoberto Gilb, The Magic of Blood

Wild Horse (1931)

You can’t watch this film with Hoot Gibson (1892-1962) and not have mixed feelings. It is a window into the past that shows a lot more than you really care to see.

Born in Nebraska in 1892, Gibson reportedly left home at the age of 13 to join the circus. By 16, he had worked as a cowboy and as a performer in Wild West rodeo shows. In his early twenties, he began in movies as a stuntman and double. After returning from service in WWI, he had a career as a film star that ranked him for a while among the likes of Tom Mix.

In 1931, when Wild Horse was made, he was pushing 40 and a new army of younger talent was taking over the western – such as singing cowboy Gene Autry. With his own ranch and his own movie pals, Hoot kept on making movies, though he never really survived the transition to talkies.

Appearing along with Hoot in this film is the far more authentic cowboy-actor Skeeter Bill Robbins. More cowboy than actor, Robbins was the manager of Gibson’s ranch in Saugus, California. A head taller than Gibson and skinny as a pipe cleaner, Robbins looks even thinner next to the well-fed Gibson.

Poster for King of the Rodeo (1929)

The plot. Wild Horse is set at a ranch rodeo, with Hoot as a bronc rider. The wild horse of the title is a magnificent stallion called Devil worth $1000 to anyone who captures him. Gibson and Skeeter Bill do the capturing, but a jealous competitor, Gil Davis, steals the horse after killing Skeeter, and wins the money.

A bank robber figures into the story as witness to the murder. But when the sheriff arrives the evidence points, unfortunately, to Hoot, and he gets arrested for the death of his partner. “The best pal I ever had,” he says.

Out of jail again, he is trampled by the now-captured wild horse and hospitalized. After recovering, he successfully rides the horse before a cheering crowd. Then he captures the killer, who makes a confession when he is confronted with the truth by the robber, who has now been captured, too.

Sheriff of Tombstone (1941)

Roy Rogers (1911-1998) had starred in over 20 B-westerns when this film was made. Before that, he was already known as a singing cowboy, performing as Leonard Slye with the Sons of the Pioneers. Co-star George “Gabby” Hayes (1885-1969) had been in countless movies, with and without whiskers, since 1931.

While the copy of this film is not first quality, it’s a cut above the typical low-budget B-western. Roy and Gabby know what they’re doing in front of the camera. Their characters are believable, even if the plot and situations aren’t.

The plot. In a nutshell, like Wyatt Earp before him, Sheriff Brett Starr (Roy) has cleaned up Dodge City and is on his way to Tombstone to do the same there. Arriving in Tombstone, he’s mistaken for a gunman and put to work by a crooked mayor who is trying to seize the silver mine of an old lady.

When Roy and Gabby learn of this scheme, they attempt to save the day. But difficulties arise when the real gunman shows up in town and puts himself at the service of the villains. All gets sorted out after some gunplay and Roy has a minute of film stock left to spirit away the town’s attractive and more-than-willing dress shop owner.

 Gabby Hayes and Roy Rogers in The Carson City Kid, 1940

Added value. The songs are extras (you could say extraneous) to the plot. But Roy has a fine voice, and it’s fun to watch him sing. A curious addition is Sally Payne as Gabby’s daughter, a saloon girl who does a couple turns as something of a cabaret singer, with a quartet of waiters as backup. Some day someone will explain to me how this convention of the stage musical found its way into the western.

Gabby is clearly present in the story as a comic foil, though Roy is so consistently bright and cheerful, the balance between the two takes on a character of its own. Instead of the buffoonery of a Fuzzy Q. Jones, Hayes has a measure of gravitas. In this film, he plays a judge, who seems to know the law, and there are times when he almost carries the weight of a scene. Opposite the idealistic and youthful confidence of Roy, he stands for a more developed knowledge of the world that comes with age to some men.

Saturday matinee: Border Feud (1947)

Starring:

Lash LaRue          Marshal Cheyenne Davis

Al St. John           Sheriff Fuzzy Q. Jones

Ian Keith              Doc Peters

Bob Duncan         Jack Barton

Story                    Joseph O’Donnell

Screenplay           Patricia Harper

Director               Ray Taylor

Get your popcorn and go to the rest room now before the show starts, so you don’t miss an exciting minute of this one.

Opening montage. There’s exciting music, and we quickly find out that there’s a fierce feud going on between the Condons and the Harts over the Blue Girl Gold Mine. Newspaper headlines flash by, and there’s constant gunfire. Bang-bang-bang.

Men on horseback chase a wagon until it goes over a cliff into the water. A man is shot from a horse and rolls down a steep embankment. In a night-time scene, men behind rocks are shooting at another horse-drawn wagon. We see it roll into town, the driver hunched over, hit. One man falls from the speeding wagon and the wagon goes over a cliff and crashes in a cloud of dust. Crash!

First scenes. A sign tells us that we’re at the Mesa City sheriff’s office. It’s a closeup of the sheriff facing a concerned Cheyenne, who sits across from him, “You walked right into the trap I baited for you, Cheyenne.”

Cheyenne says, “It’s not the first trap I’ve sprung or I escaped from, Sheriff.”

The Sheriff says, “You’ve reached the end of your rope.”

Turns out they’re playing checkers, and the Sheriff wins the game. Ha-ha.

A bright lamp is glowing over the table and there is a pair of longhorns mounted on the wall behind them. Two men have been watching the game. Cheyenne is wearing his black shirt. He looks confident, barely smiles. He’s been winning every match until now.

There’s a letter just arrived on the stage from Sheriff Fuzzy Jones in Red Gulch, Nevada. Fuzzy says the Condons and the Harts are feuding and he’s asking for help. When the Sheriff hears Fuzzy is in Red Gulch, he says he’s just picked up a killer by the name of “Tiger” who was on his way there to make trouble. He was carrying a letter introducing him to a Jack Barton.

Cheyenne gets up to leave for Red Gulch. He’s dressed completely in black, with a black hat. He has two pistols in his silver-studded holsters and gun belt.

Saturday matinee: Hopalong Cassidy in FORTY THIEVES (1944)

Get your popcorn and go to the rest room now, because you don’t want to miss a minute of this one.

The story begins. There’s exciting music, and we quickly find out that Hoppy is a town sheriff and he’s been bringing in the outlaws, one bunch after another. Newspaper headlines trumpet his successes with exclamation marks!

Deputy California Carlson is doing one of his comic routines as he stands on a stack of boxes beside a sign: “Re-elect Hopalong Cassidy for Sheriff.” He practices delivering a speech to an imaginary audience (well, there's one kid watching) but loses his balance and falls into a horse trough. Ha-ha-ha! Hoppy and Deputy Jimmy Rogers come along and laugh, too.

Fresh out of prison, here comes bad guy Tad Hammond. Serving 20 years for rustling cattle and now out on parole. He doesn’t like Hoppy and makes no bones about it. “My trigger finger doesn’t itch anymore,” he says, “except when I see you.”

Inside the saloon, Hammond is persuading saloon owner Jerry Doyle to run against Hoppy for sheriff. Doyle looks like he could be a nice guy, but Hoppy has been keeping the town too law-abiding, which cuts into his business.

Hammond says he’ll bring in his old gang members from where they’ve been hiding out in Indian Territory. There are 40 of them. That’s where they got the name for the movie. Together, they’ll run Hoppy out of town.

Next thing, we see all of them getting together on their horses. It’s Election Day and they’re going to foil it up, which they do. They spread a rumor that the election has been postponed and do other things. Finally they’re stuffing the ballot box when nobody’s looking.