There’s a reason why I tackled two entries for this week’s
edition of
B-Western Wednesdays.
I
put one of Johnny Mack Brown’s Monogram vehicles in the DVD player (
Outlaw Gold [1950]) last week and the
moment the closing credits rolled, I completely forgot what the damn thing was
about.
(This sort of thing doesn’t lend
itself to good film reviews, by the way.)
And I felt guilty about this—though in my defense, I didn’t make the
doggone movie—because I like generally like JMB, even in his “plump” period (this
wasn’t my idea—I read it from a commenter over at the [always reliable] IMDb).
Brown is just a darn likable cowpoke; I’ve
reviewed
one
of his Monogram features here previously and mentioned this anecdote:
…by all accounts from the people
with whom he worked, Brown was the epitome of the true Southern gentleman.
He made many films with … Marshall Reed, who once related to a fan at a western
film convention that Johnny would always tell his cast at the wrap: “Thanks for
letting me make this film with you.”
For the record,
Outlaw
Gold finds our hero as a U.S. Marshal assigned to investigate a robbery
involving government gold from Mexico, with the help of his deputy sidekick
Sandy Barker (Milburn Monsante).
In the
process of their search, the two men witness Joe Martin, the editor of Latigo
City’s newspaper, and his daughter Kathy (Jane Adams) bushwhacked by assailants
unknown.
Pretending not to know one
another, Brown (as Johnny Mack Brown—the role he was born to play!) and Sandy
agree to escort the Martins back to town; Johnny Mack will ride up ahead to
interview some local ranchers and deputy Sandy continues on with Kathy and the
injured Martin (shot in the arm by the desperadoes).
In Latigo City, Sandy wangles a job as a printer with the
Martin’s paper…and Johnny, just arriving, is around long enough to witness Joe’s
assassin finish the job with a rifle from an upstairs window. Johnny soon finds himself accused of the
deed! Not to worry, Mr. Brown is
eventually cleared of any wrongdoing, leaving him and Sandy to suspect that the
man (George McDormand) who seemed mighty anxious to point fingers in the first
place may be involved in some shady chicanery.
I don’t want to point fingers myself…but I suspect the
reason why
Outlaw Gold dissipates in
the memory banks after one viewing is because apart from Myron Healey’s role as
an ex-con named Sonny Lang (who’s harboring a grudge against Johnny Mack)—Healey
manages to bring a little shading and nuance to what could have been a one-note
performance—no one in the cast of
Gold
is a particular standout, nor is the plot all that memorable (though there is
an amusing scene where Sandy produces the fruits of his first printing job—it looks
like a ransom note).
The cast of
Man
from Sonora (1951), on the other hand, has a bit more “oomph” even though, like
Gold, the plot of the film is little
more than paint-by-numbers.
Sonora puts a
twist on the hero’s occupation: Johnny Mack Brown (still playing himself) is a
retired lawman who loses his valued horse
“Rebel” to a gang of masked hombres who have just held up a stage on its way to
Silver Springs.
(One of the men had to
shoot his injured horse, and that’s why he “liberated” Johnny’s steed.)
Arriving in town, Brown gets reacquainted
with his old pal Frank Casey (Lyle Talbot), who’s the law in Silver Springs,
and Johnny tells the sheriff about the three men who put the snatch on
Rebel.
Johnny’s got a hunch that one of
the outlaws, Duke Mantel (Lee Roberts), is throwing a few back in the saloon, because
of his loud, distinctive laugh (the masked man who swiped Johnny’s horse had a
similar guffaw).
When Johnny enters the
watering hole as the guest of Ed Hooper (House Peters, Jr.), Duke and his pal
Pete (John Merton) start a little trouble…and Frank is forced to lock up both
Duke and Johnny.
Hooper bails Duke out—Duke works for him as one of his “peelers”—and
along with banker Fred Allison (Sam Flint), informs lawman Casey that his pal
Johnny must vamoose out of Silver Springs; it’s all politics, you understand—Casey’s
hands are tied in the matter.
This will
prove most beneficial for Johnny Mack Brown; it will give him the opportunity
to drop by Hooper’s spread and look for the missing Rebel.
There are a good number of serials/B-Western veterans in
Man from Sonora: I always smile
whenever I see John Merton onscreen (I read somewhere that whenever an oater or
chapter play was being cast they took special pains to make sure Merton was on
the list because he had several mouths to feed), and he’s in his element here
as one of Peters’ henchmen.
Peters’
villain is a real piece of work, cold-bloodedly gunning down John and serial
hero Dennis Moore (as a bad guy!) when things start to close in on him.
Phyllis “Gypsy” Coates, who also appeared in
Oklahoma
Justice (1951), is the banker’s daughter and kind of sweet on Johnny
(there is no kiss at the fadeout, however, because Johnny has no use for wimmin
folk despite always being courtly in their presence) …though as in
Justice,
Coates has very little to do.
Western
veteran Pierce Lyden appears briefly as a harness salesman who draws his
rations early (allowing Dennis Moore to impersonate him).
Both
Outlaw Gold
and
Man from Sonora are present and
accounted for on the Warner Archive MOD set
Monogram
Cowboy Collection Volume 1, which is
also
available for rent from the good people at ClassicFlix.
This past weekend, Rancho Yesteryear was the
beneficiary of a Starz/Encore/Movieplex “freeview”—and I had hoped to snag a
download of
The Lone Star Trail
(1943), a Johnny Mack-Tex Ritter Universal B-oater that I watched on Encore
Westerns back in what I jokingly call my “carefree bachelor days” (before the ‘rents
and I decided to share living space).
But I wasn’t able to get it off the On Demand in time.
Bummer.
the doggone thing--because And I
felt guilty about this--though credits
rolled, I completely forgot what the damn thin
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