User reviews

It has a great leading trio of Harry Carey, Hoot Gibson and "Big Boy" Williams, with a fine supporting cast, including Bob Steele, Tom Tyler, and Sam Hardy. It's beautifully photographed by Harold Wenstrom in that wide-shot style that early RKO westerns used. The story is an early "Three Mesquiteers" one by William Colt MacDonald, years before it became a series for Republic and turned to mush. Me, I have trouble with the pacing of the movie.

Our lead trio -- Carey, Gibson and Williams -- have some reward money in the bank, and receive word they have bought a ranch. When they show up, they discover that the town and countryside is controlled by Sam Hardy, who has an awful lot of money, a bar, and is paying off deputy Adrian Moriss. The three ranch owners won't put up with nonsense, so Hardy hires Tom Tyler to kill Gibson, convinced the others are just comic relief.

It's a fine framework for a western movie, but the script appears to have been cut down from a fairly complex novel, or perhaps the subplots were cut short in the editor's booth, to be just raised and solved. In addition, I thought the dialogue pacing poor, which falls at the feet of director Wallace Fox. Much about this movie remains good enough to make it a good B Western, but not one of the best.

This film begins with three cowboys named "Tucson Smith" (Harry Carey), "Stony Brooke" (Hoot Gibson) and Lullaby Joslin (Guinn Williams) riding out to a small town out west to meet up with their friend "Jeff Ferguson" (Bob Steele). On the way, they happen to notice a stagecoach being robbed so they immediately head that way to investigate. Unfortunately, although they capture the person responsible for the holdup, they also find that he has murdered the driver of the stagecoach in the process. So, being the upstanding citizens that they are, they decide to take their prisoner into the nearest town to face the justice that he deserves. Just prior to that, however, Tucson notices that the mail pouch on the stagecoach has been opened and inside of it is a letter addressed to him. Curious as to what it might say, Tucson opens it and discovers that Jeff has invested $1000 into a ranch not too far away. Not long after they hand over their prisoner to the local sheriff, he also learns that Jeff has been framed for murder by the corrupt mayor named "Steve Ogden" (Sam Hardy) who wanted to prevent Jeff from acquiring the ranch--and he will stop at nothing to get ownership of it. Now, rather than reveal any more, I will just say that this was the very first movie to have all three characters known as the "Three Mesquiteers" who later gained grade-B fame in several films made by Republic Pictures. And even though I believe this movie is a little better than its immediate predecessor ("The Law of the 45's") made that same year, it still might require some allowances by the viewer due to the limitations of the motion picture industry of the time. That being said, while certainly not a great Western necessarily, I still enjoyed it to a certain degree, and I have rated it accordingly. Slightly above average.

Powdersmoke Range is the sort of guilty pleasure that your cultural guardians will have warned you about. The enjoyment here is not in the hokey plot (well, OK it is a bit), or the cinematography, or the music. It lies almost entirely in watching grouchy old Harry Carey, Hoot Gibson and Bob Steele go through their paces, spouting arch dialogue and referring to a code of values which, if they ever existed, only did so in Westerns up until c 1940.

The camp fascination of this vehicle is such that I've found myself watching it several times. The effect of such a slow moving, deliberate drama, one where the sort of psychological drama which become common in the genre in the 50's onwards is missing, is almost timeless. Carey's trick to beat Sunshine Saunders to the draw at the end is charming, almost old-worldy, and could easily stem straight from the dime novels in which Ned Buntline first immortalised Buffalo Bill back in the 1880's. However it does provide an intiguing element of suspense which helps the last half of the film to gain some momentum.

Carey, at least to my eyes, is the prime draw (deliberate pun) and, to modern eyes, his combination of grandad and gunfighter takes some getting used to. But ultimately the faded humanity of the man, his solid gravitas, makes us care about him. Even in this forgotten B-Western he displays something of the star quality and on-screen presence that John Wayne celebrated in the closing seconds of The Searchers (silhouetted in the doorway he wraps he cradles his own arm with a characteristic Carey-esque gesture). Those unfamiliar with the older man should seek out his other co-starring vehicles, like the rewarding Shepherd of the Hills as well as The Angel and the Badman (both with Wayne).