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Archive for the ‘DVD/Blu-Ray Reviews’ Category

Directed by Raoul Walsh
Produced by Owen Crump
Written by Harriet Frank, Jr.
Based on a story by Stephen Longstreet
Director Of Photography: Sid Hickox
Film Editor: Alan Crosland, Jr.
Music by Max Steiner

Cast: Errol Flynn (Capt. Mike McComb), Ann Sheridan (Georgia Moore), Thomas Mitchell (John Plato Beck), Bruce Bennett (Stanley Moore), Tom D’Andrea (Pistol Porter), Barton MacLane (Banjo Sweeney), Monte Blue (Buck Chevigee), Jonathan Hale (Maj. Spencer), Alan Bridge (Slade), Arthur Space (Major Ross), Joseph Crehan (President Grant)


If there was ever a Blu-Ray that needed a commentary track, it was Silver River (1948). Its production history includes the debauchery you expect from an Errol Flynn picture, with additional drama coming from Ann Sheridan, leading to countless memos and a threat of legal action from Jack Warner.

Both Flynn and Sheridan wanted out of their contracts, which certainly contributed to the train wreck. But the main problem is that alcohol, not water, flowed through Silver River.

Union officer Mike McComb (Errol Flynn) is court-martialed after burning a million dollars in Yankee payroll to keep it out of the Confederacy’s hands in the days leading up to the battle of Gettysburg.

Vowing to look out for Number One from now on, Flynn uses gambling to amass a fortune in Silver City, becoming one of the richest men in town. Things get a lot more complicated when he meets Georgia Moore (Ann Sheridan), the wife of one of Silver City’s most powerful mine owners (Bruce Bennett).

There’s a terrific action sequence to kick things off, plenty of great characters (from great character actors) and a fair amount of drama. Raoul Walsh’s mastery of pacing saves the day. The picture moves, to be sure, but it doesn’t seem to know where it wants to move to. You get the feeling that it’s headed to a big final act, but it doesn’t. The ending is rushed and the picture just kinda stops. This makes sense being that many say Jack Warner pretty much shut production down, stopping the train before it fell off the tracks.

Overall, the picture lacks the snap of most of Flynn’s Westerns — and of almost anything Walsh ever touched. By the way, Flynn and Walsh never worked together again.

There’s a great supporting cast: Thomas Mitchell, Barton MacLane, Monte Blue, etc. The production design is lush and the cinematography from Sid Hickox is beautiful. Max Steiner’s score is one of the picture’s strong points.

All of this makes Silver River a film I’ve been dying to revisit. And what a way to revisit it! Warner Archive has come through with another world-class transfer of one of their classic films — demonstrating how much B&W benefits with the jump to Blu-Ray or 4K. The sound is clean and clear, giving Steiner’s score plenty of punch. An absolutely flawless presentation.

The extras are two WB cartoons — Rabbit Punch and Two Gophers From Texas — and the original trailer. The basics, but you can’t go wrong with stuff like that.

Errol Flynn’s films for Warner Bros. are some of the most watchable things Hollywood ever cooked up, and this one’s no different (even with its problems). For Flynn fans, Western nuts, lovers of the WB look and those fascinated by troubled movies, Silver River comes through. I fall into a few of those groups, so this one’s easy to recommend.

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Directed by Harry Keller
Produced by Gordon Kay
Written by Burt Kennedy
Director Of Photography: Maury Gertsman, ASC
Film Editor: Aaron Stell, ACE
Music Supervision by Joseph Gershenson

Cast: Audie Murphy (Ben Lane), Dan Duryea (Frank Jesse), Joan O’Brien (Kelly), George Wallace (Will Boone), Roy Barcroft (Mustanger), Bob Steele (Puncher), Henry Wills (Indian leader), Phil Chambers (Undertaker) Charlita Regis (Mexican dancer), Dale Van Sickel


Let’s kick off 2026 with a look at a solid contender for my favorite video release of 2025 — Via Vision’s Blu-Ray of the Audie Murphy picture Six Black Horses (1962), paired with The Wild And The Innocent (1959).

I’ve spent plenty of time on this blog (and in commentaries) championing Murphy’s last pictures for Universal International — a run of seven low-budget Westerns produced by Gordon Kay. They’ve been done dirty over the years, often dismissed as “serviceable” and “routine.” A couple of them, Hell Bent For Leather and Seven Ways From Sundown (both 1960), have been singled out, but they all have something to recommend them.

You can tell that the budgets have shriveled up a bit — they only cost around $500,000 to $600,000 each. But the films themselves are quite good, thanks to solid direction, tight scripts, fabulous casts and gorgeous location photography. Plus, Murphy was clearly getting more confident as an actor.

This time around, Ben Lane (Murphy) and Frank Jesse (Dan Duryea) are hired by Kelly (Joan O’Brien) to escort her through Apache territory to meet up with her husband.

Well, that’s what she says she’s hiring them for.

Written by Burt Kennedy just a couple years after the last of the Budd Boetticher/Randolph Scott Ranown pictures, Six Black Horses has that lean, mean, efficiency that Kennedy was knocking out so effortlessly back then. (I may be way off base here, but I think there are echoes of Six Black Horses in Monte Hellman’s 1966 The Shooting.)

The small cast is excellent, the dialogue is good and most of the picture takes place outdoors, which is a great way to expand a tight budget. It was shot in Utah and just outside of Las Vegas — and in the same section of the U-I backlot used for Curse Of The Undead (1959).

Audie’s supported in this one by Dan Duryea, Roy Barcroft and Bob Steele. George Wallace, Commando Cody in Radar Men From The Moon (1952), is despicable as a scalp hunter who’s got the Apaches all stirred up.

Joan O’Brien — who worked with the likes of John Wayne, Cary Grant, Tony Curtis, Elvis and Jerry Lewis — has a good role here, given more to do than just look pretty. (Ms. O’Brien passed away in 2025.)

Audie befriends a dog early in the film and he tags along for the rest of the 80 minutes. He’s such a pretty dog; I’m assuming he’s a mixed breed. Dogs can be annoying in movies, but not here.

For decades, it was hard to see Six Black Horses. I saw a faded 16mm print of it over 30 years ago (Six Pink Horses?) and used to have a sorry-looking bootleg VHS of it. The fine folks at Via Vision have thankfully rectified this situation.

Via Vision has done a tremendous job with Six Black Horses. It’s an excellent transfer, sharp as a tack with the Eastman Color dialed in just right and perfect 1.85 framing. They didn’t go overboard with the cleanup — there’s a speck of dust here and there, a line or two, even some changeover cues. To me, that’s a good thing. Such “artifacts” are part of the movie-watching experience, or at least they used to be, and I miss ’em.

There are no extras for this film, or for the accompanying The Wild And The Innocent (that looks just as good). The single-disc set, called Audie Murphy: Double Feature Collection One, is Region Free and the price is excellent. Collection Two consists of Joe Butterfly (1957) and The Texican (1966).

It’s so easy to recommend Six Black Horses. I’ve been evangelizing about these movies for years now. It’s just as easy to recommend this Blu-Ray, which presents a couple of terrific movies in tip-top condition — at a collector-friendly price. As I mentioned up top, this is one of my favorite releases of 2025. Go get it!

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Directed by Anthony Mann
Screenplay by Guy Trosper
Produced by Nicholas Nayfack
Cinematography: John Alton
Edited by Conrad A. Nervig
Music by Daniele Amfitheatrof

Cast​: Robert Taylor (Lance Poole), Louis Calhern (Verne Coolan), Paula Raymond (Orrie Masters), Marshall Thompson (Rod MacDougall), James Mitchell (Red Rock), Edgar Buchanan (Zeke Carmody), Rhys Williams (Scotty MacDougall), Spring Byington (Mrs. Masters), James Millican (Ike Stapleton)


It’s hard to believe Devil’s Doorway comes from the same MGM that released Father Of The Bride — and in the same year, 1950. It’s a typically tough picture from Anthony Mann, part of his initial shift to Westerns, brining a lot of his noir baggage with him!

20th Century-Fox’s Broken Arrow, a Western with a focus on the Indian perspective, had hit theaters a few months earlier. Devil’s Doorway comes at that same perspective but from a far, far darker place. And it’s all the better for it. (MGM sat on Devil’s Doorway for a while, scared of its subject matter, until they saw the response to the inferior Broken Arrow.)

A Shoshone Indian, Lance Poole (Robert Taylor), comes home after the Civil War a decorated war hero, eager to get back to his family’s ranch. But new laws have declared that Indians cannot own land (or buy a drink in the saloon) — and there are plenty around Medicine Bow eager to get their slick mitts on Poole’s grazing land. As Woody Guthrie sang, “Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen.”

To make matters worse, the local doctor refuses to treat Poole’s father, who dies. Naturally, the proud Shoshone war hero isn’t one to take things lying down, with tragic results.

So many Westerns blame the plight of the Native Americans on crooks selling them liquor and guns. Here, it’s all the result of greed and prejudice. And when those are the causes — and when there are dirtbags like Verne Coolan (Louis Calhern) and weak lawmen like Zeke Carmody (Edgar Buchanan) calling the shots, we can’t blame Poole for lashing out at the system so clearly stacked against him.

Of course, his relationship with Orrie Masters (Paula Raymond) doesn’t stand a chance.

On paper, Robert Taylor seems like a really odd choice for Poole, but he handles it with ease. From playing an Indian here to an unhinged racist in The Last Hunt (1956), Taylor was terrific whenever he mounted up for a Western. The Law And Jack Wade (1958) is another great one.

Guy Trosper’s screenplay doesn’t pull any punches, and Anthony Mann makes sure everything is delivered with a sledgehammer. You don’t often see a major star of Hollywood’s Golden Era participate in such violence.

John Alton’s camerawork is never short of incredible, from beautiful closeups to breathtaking Colorado exteriors, and it’s a prime reason for snatching up Devil’s Doorway on Blu-Ray. (If I ran things, everything Alton ever touched would only be available in high definition.) Warner Archive has done their typically impeccable work here — the contrast is just right and the audio is loud and punchy.

Devil’s Doorway is the film that made me a Robert Taylor fan, and it deserves just as much attention as Mann’s work with James Stewart has received over the years. It’s a terrific film that helped kick off what we think of as Fifties Westerns. Highly, highly recommended.

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I’m not comfortable reviewing things I had something to do with. But this set is just too nice to ignore.

CassicFlix has launched their Hopalong Cassidy Blu-Ray series with the first three Cassidy pictures — Hop-Along Cassidy, The Eagle’s Brood and Bar 20 Rides Again (all 1935, all directed by Howard Bretherton and shot by Archie Stout). They’re fully restored and look like a million bucks. All come from 35mm, though two 16mm prints of The Eagle’s Brood were recruited to supplement the picture’s incomplete 35mm material — with terrific results.

Of course, the films themselves are a real notch above the typical B Western in every possible way.

Extras include two commentaries (one from yours truly), a trailer for The Eagle’s Brood and a really lovely “mini-documentary,” William Boyd – Becoming Hopalong Cassidy. I worked on the script and was still blown away by the finished piece.

There are 66 Hoppy pictures, so let’s hope this first volume is followed by 21 more (if my math is right). Highly, highly recommended. Nah, come to think of it, make it “essential!”

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Directed by Howard Bretherton
Produced by Vincent M. Fennelly
Written by Maurice Tombragel
Cinematography: Ernest Miller
Film Editor: Sam Fields
Music by Raoul Kraushaar

Cast: Whip Wilson (Marshal Whip Wilson), Fuzzy Knight (Tex), Lois Hall (Laura Davis), Tommy Farrell (Marshal Jim Dugan), Terry Frost (Mike Lorch), Lane Bradford (Talbot), Marshall Reed (Sheriff Ernie Hodkins), Steve Clark (Charley Davis), Iron Eyes Cody (Cherokee)


Felt like taking the trail to Poverty Row, and since I haven’t stuck a Whip Wilson picture on here yet, I settled on Night Raiders (1952), one of Wilson’s later films — from Monogram’s last year before the switch to Allied Artists. Night Raiders is one of the pictures making up Warner Archive’s DVD set Monogram Cowboy Collection, Volume 2.

After a series of night raids on local ranches (without anything being taken), Fuzzy Knight sends for marshals Whip Wilson and Tommy Farrell to aide Fuzzy’s boss (Steve Clark) and his daughter (Lois Hall). Turns out it’s part of a plot to locate $15,000 that was hidden after a train robbery.

Whip Wilson (born Roland Charles Meyers) had been a singer before getting into the movies. After Buck Jones was killed in the 1942 fire at the Coconut Grove, Monogram went looking for someone to replace him. They felt Meyers resembled Jones a bit (personally, I don’t see it) and they gave him the name Whip Wilson. He’s not a great actor by any means, but he’s good with action and comes off as likable.

Before Night Raiders, Lois Hall made three Johnny Mack Brown pictures, including Colorado Ambush (1951). Along with appearing alongside Brown and Whip Wilson, she was in some Jimmy Wakely and Durango Kid movies. She also did some serials and plenty of TV Westerns like Wild Bill Hickok, Kit Carson, The Lone Ranger and The Range Rider. She continued working into the 2000s.

This was the last feature for director Howard Bretherton, who got his start doing props back in 1914. In the early 20s, he started working as an editor and wound up at Warner Bros. He got the chance to direct While London Sleeps (1927), a Rin Tin Tin movie.

Bretherton left Warner Bros. in 1935 and was tapped by Harry Sherman to do the first six Hopalong Cassidy films before eventually making his way to Monogram. There, his abilities often overcame the studio’s paltry budgets and punishing schedules.

Like so many directors from this period, Howard Bretherton tried his hand at television before retiring. He directed episodes of Racket Squad and Adventures Of Superman.

Night Raiders is included in Volume 2 of Warner Archive’s terrific Monogram Cowboy Collection, a nine-picture set dedicated to Wilson and Rod Cameron. The films all look great. Though they don’t get what you’d consider an actual restoration, the transfers are very nicely done.

I wish Warner Archive would spend more time digging around in the Monogram vaults. The stuff they’ve put out thus far are some of the real joys of my collection. All 10 volumes of the Monogram Cowboy Collection come highly, highly recommended.

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Directed by Andre de Toth
Written by Frank Davis
Sloan Nibley (story)
Produced by Louis F. Edelman
Cinematography Edwin B. DuPar
Film Editor: Robert L. Swanson
Music by Max Steiner

Cast: Gary Cooper (Major Alex ‘Lex’ Kearney), Phyllis Thaxter (Erin Kearney), David Brian (Austin McCool), Paul Kelly (Lt. Col. John Hudson), Philip Carey (Capt. Tennick), Lon Chaney Jr. (Pete Elm), James Millican (Matthew Quint), Guinn ‘Big Boy’ Williams (Sgt. Snow), Alan Hale Jr. (Mizzell), Martin Milner (Pvt. Olie Larsen), Fess Parker (Sgt. Randolph)


Carson City (1952), a cool Randolph Scott Western directed by Andre de Toth for Warner Bros., was the first picture filmed in WarnerColor — which was actually Eastmancolor. Kodak’s tri-pack negative film was just what Hollywood was looking for in the early Fifties — a cheaper, more convenient way to shoot color. And color was one thing TV didn’t have.

De Toth was great at putting new technology through its paces, and he’d soon direct WB’s first 3D film, House Of Wax (1953). But first, he was handed WarnerColor again for Springfield Rifle (1952) — along with Gary Cooper and a terrific supporting cast. And he delivered another winner.

It’s 1864, and the Union Army needs horses. But every time the Northerners try to get fresh mounts for Fort Hedley, they’re stolen by rustlers and sold to the Confederates. A spy has to be telling them when and where the horses are being delivered.

Major “Lex” Kearney (Gary Cooper) infiltrates the rustlers, thanks to a fake court martial for cowardice, to find out how the operation works and how they get their information. At the same time, there’s a shipment of the new Springfield Model 1865 rifles on the way, something else the rustlers (led by David Brian) really want to get their hands on.

Springfield Rifle is quite a picture. From its screenplay by Frank Davis, based on a story from B Western master Sloan Nibley, to Robert L. Swanson’s editing and Andre de Toth’s typically-tight direction, this is one of those movies where everything seems to click. It moves like a rocket, so fast you don’t have time to think about how much of it doesn’t make sense. And there are a number of jaw-dropping stunts along the way.

The cast is top notch. Gary Cooper is, well, Gary Cooper. (This was released a few months after High Noon.) David Brian is great as the bad guy McCool (he’d play a somewhat similar crook in Fury At Gunsight Ridge in 1956). Alan Hale, Jr., Lon Chaney, Jr., James Millican and Guinn ‘Big Boy’ Williams are as wonderful as you’d expect them to be. Phyllis Thaxter is fine as Cooper’s harried wife. And future TV stars Martin Milner and Fess Parker have really early roles in this one.

De Toth and cinematographer Edwin DuPar went higher up into the Alabama Hills and Mount Witney than most movie crews had gone before. The weather did not cooperate, with DuPar shooting under protest — and everyone wondering if de Toth would be fired. But what they came back with is fabulous. Mother Nature can sure add plenty of production values.

Warner Bros. Westerns of the 50s often play like B Westerns with more money and 20 extra minutes added to the mix. This one has a deliciously complicated plot with spies, traitors and double-crosses at every turn — and it’s a perfect package like so many of the studio’s films from this period. Not a true classic, perhaps, but who cares when it’s this entertaining?

Now let’s get to the Blu-Ray from Warner Archive. WarnerColor is not usually much to look at, but a lot of care has gone into this one and it’s a big improvement over what’s been around before. The color is nice and natural-looking, with just a bit of those purple shadows that you see in a lot of Eastmancolor pictures from the early 50s. The sound is nice, letting Max Steiner’s score ring out like it’s supposed to.

Warner Archive was generous with the extras, adding in two WB cartoons from 1952, Feed The Kitty and Rabbit’s Kin, a Joe McDoakes short, So You Want To Enjoy Life, and the picture’s original trailer.

A presentation like this makes a good movie even better. Springfield Rifle was quite good to begin with, and it’s now highly, highly recommended.

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Cheyenne (1955-62) was more than just an excellent 50s Western TV show. It was the first hour-long Western, the first hour-long dramatic TV show to run more than a single season. It was also the first TV series produced by a major studio (Warner Bros.) that wasn’t derived from an established film property.

Now on Blu-Ray from Warner Archive — 107 episodes on 30 discs, Cheyenne is one of the best examples of classic TV in high definition I’ve seen so far. Scanned in 4K from the original camera negatives, these things are just stunning.

In its first season, Cheyenne shared its time slot with King’s Row and Casablanca, two WB shows based on their films. After the first season, those two vanished and Cheyenne had other slot-mates (Sugarfoot in the third season).

Clint Walker plays Cheyenne Bodie, a cowboy/scout riding across the post-Civil War West. Each week, he rides into a new spot and happens upon a new batch of folks. The plots are very much in line with what the laters B Westerns had been — and what we think of today as a 50s Western. 

Cheyenne was raised by the Cheyenne after his parents were killed by another tribe. He later lived with a white family (the particulars vary a bit from show to show). He’s fair, kind, strong and always ready to help out those in need. And as if to prove the idea that “no good deed goes unpunished,” Cheyenne’s servant nature often lands him in a real mess. 

Warner Bros. put their major-studio muscle behind their TV product, and it shows. Cheyenne fits right in with what Warners was doing with Western features in the late 50s. From the sets to the casts to the music, these episodes play like 50-minute versions of what WB was sending to theaters. For example, James Garner and Angie Dickinson appear in a second-season episode (“War Party”) about the same time they were in Warner’s Randolph Scott picture Shootout At Medicine Bend (1957).

The directors who did episodes of Cheyenne is a bit of a Western Who’s Who, with pros like George Waggner, Paul Landres, Thomas Carr, Joe Kane, Howard W. Koch, Paul Henreid, Lew Landers and Arthur Lubin.

Same with cinematographers. Shooting Cheyenne were folks like Harold E. Stine, Carl E. Guthrie, Bert Glennon, Ted McCord, William H. Clothier, Harold Rosson, William P. Whitley and Ellis W. Carter.

From week to week, the cast was incredible. Here’s just a sample of the folks who turn up over the course of the show: James Garner, Jack Elam, Ray Teal, Myron Healy, Bob Steele, Kathleen Crowley, Leo Gordon, Ann Robinson, Rod Taylor, Marie Windsor (above), Adele Mara, Gerald Mohr, Peggie Castle, Robert J. Wilke, Penny Edwards, Dennis Hopper, James Griffith, Angie Dickinson, John Qualen, Lee Van Cleef, Denver Pyle, Phil Carey, James Coburn, Nestor Paiva, Slim Pickens, John Carradine, Frank Ferguson, Joan Weldon, Tom Conway, Guinn “Big Boy” Williams, Edd Byrnes, Evelyn Ankers, John Russell, Claude Akins, Don “Red” Barry, Don Megowan, Dan Blocker, Adam West, Connie Stevens, Faith Domergue, James Drury, Lorne Greene, Mala Powers, Merry Anders, Alan Hale Jr., R. G. Armstrong, Ahna Capri, Ellen Burstyn, Sally Kellerman, Michael Landon, Harry Lauter and Ruta Lee. In three of the early episodes, LQ Jones (below) is his sidekick Smitty. (I left out dozens because it would’ve made for a pretty ridiculous paragraph.)

Cheyenne was a hit and it made Clint Walker a star. With a hit show, the exacting schedule that came with it, no features on the horizon, and an exclusive contract that paid him just $150 a week, after the third season, Walker was unhappy.

Clint Walker: “… I found out they [Warner Bros.] turned down some pretty nice features that I could’ve done… I heard that when people inquired, they were told, ‘When Clint Walker does features, he’ll do ‘em for Warner Bros.’ So that’s where we had the difference of opinion.” *

So, Clint Walker, well, walked. The show zigzagged to a “fake Cheyenne,” Bronco Layne (Ty Hardin) and kept going until Walker was coaxed back into the saddle. Warners put him in the excellent Fort Dobbs (1958), which I’d love to see make the leap to Blu-Ray. Bronco Layne got his own series for a while, called simply Bronco.

This is an excellent TV series, a consistent favorite of fans of 50s Westerns — and for good reason. And Warner Archive has given us all good reason to pick up this set. They look wonderful. The audio has plenty of punch. They’re uncut and have the original WB openings and closings in place. A nice slipcover thing holds the seasons nice and neat.

Cheyenne was a home run back in 1955 — and it’s a home run on Blu-Ray 70 years later. Highly, highly recommended.

*From a phone conversation with this author back in 2010.

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Directed by​ Wallace Fox
Supervisor: Eddie Davis
Original Screenplay by​ Adele Buffington
Director Of Photography: Harry Neumann
Film Editor: John C. Fuller

Cast​: Johnny Mack Brown (Himself), Max Terhune (Alibi), Poni Adams (Judy Gordon), Hugh Prosser (Jim Laren), Riley Hill (Joe Gordon), Marshall Reed (Frank), Constance Worth (Ann Gordon), Steve Clark (Dusty Dekker), Terry Frost (Carl), William Ruhl (Curly), John Merton (Blacksmith), Myron Healey (Gus)


Warner Archive’s announcement of the Monogram Matinee #1 Blu-Ray was a reason for much rejoicing around here. And if you ask me, now that it’s here, the rejoicing can continue. This thing’s great.

It puts three Monogram Westerns from 1949 on a single disc: Mississippi Rhythm starring Jimmie Davis, Western Renegades with Johnny Mack Brown, and Whip Wilson in Crashing Thru. No frills other than terrific transfers.

The picture I went to first was Western Renegades (1949).

Marshall Johnny Mack Brown rides into Gordonville to visit his old friend Dusty Dekker (Steve Clark), and before we’re four minutes into the picture, Johnny’s plugged two guys and a well-to-do rancher is murdered. Not long after that, we learn of a plot cooked up by some of the locals to snatch the dead man’s ranch from his two adult children, with an actress passed off as the rancher’s long-lost wife — and with Dusty framed for it.

Monogram’s Johnny Mack Brown Westerns are a lot of fun. He’s likable, he rides well and he has a cool hat. (Hats are very important in these things.) His Southern accent is real, another plus. And there’s usually plenty of action.

Max Terhune isn’t given a lot to do as Alibi this time around, but it’s always nice to see him (and Elmer). Myron Healey doesn’t have a lot of screen time in one of those parts often listed as “henchman,” though he’s called Gus here.

While it’s easy to see that these things were made with an eye on the clock, the pros putting them together always seem to come through. Harry Neumann’s camerawork in Western Renegades is nice, especially if you consider the time, or lack of it, he had to get things set up.

Neumann’s work is presented quite nicely here. It’s always a treat to see B Westerns look this good, where we can appreciate the craft required to make movies this quickly and cheaply.

The Monogram John Mack Brown films are well represented in Warner Archive’s older DVD series, Monogram Cowboy Collection. (If you’re reading this far into this, trust me, you need those.)

If sets like this Monogram Matinee are how things are going to move forward, bring ’em on! Highly recommended.

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Directed by RG Springsteen
Produced by A. C. Lyles
Screenplay by Steve Fisher
Story by Andrew Craddock & Steve Fisher
Director Of Photography: Harold E. Stine
Edited by Bernard Matis
Music Composed by Jimmie Haskell

Cast: Dana Andrews (Marshal Johnny Reno), Jane Russell (Nona Williams), Lon Chaney (Sheriff Hodges), John Agar (Ed Tomkins), Lyle Bettger (Mayor Jess Yates), Tom Drake (Joe Conners), Richard Arlen (Ned Duggan), Robert Lowery (Jake Reed), Tracy Olsen (Marie Yates), Reg Parton (Bartender)


It’s a shame A.C. Lyles’ Westerns of the mid-60s aren’t available on DVD or Blu-Ray. Near as I can tell, the only one to see a DVD release in the States is Johnny Reno (1966). While the Lyles pictures aren’t gonna make any AFI 100 list, the casts are terrific — work for older stars and good-sized parts for character actors, and they’re a good way to spend 80-something minutes on a Saturday morning. Which is exactly what I did with Johnny Reno.

Marshal Johnny Reno (Dana Andrews) is riding past Vasquez Rocks (looking great in Technicolor and Techniscope) on his way to Stone Junction, when he gets sucked into a conflict between the Conners brothers, the citizens of Stone Junction and Chief Little Bear.

And it turns out the local saloon is run by Reno’s old flame Nona (Jane Russell).

It’s obvious the fine people of Stone Junction (John Agar, Lyle Bettger, Lon Chaney, Richard Arlen) have a dirty, dirty secret — and feel the best way to handle it is to make sure certain people stop breathing. Reno throws a monkey wrench into their plans.

You can see the influence of spaghetti westerns in these Lyles pictures, from the camerawork to the bloodletting, but for the most part, they play like it’s 1956 again (which is fine by me). The script for Johnny Reno, by Andrew Craddock & Steve Fisher, does some rather interesting things within a fairly standard storyline. RG Springsteen’s direction is as solid as you’d expect.

Dana Andrews has plenty to do. Lon Chaney is quite good as a sheriff who eventually decides to get out from under the thumb of the town’s movers and shakers. Lyle Bettger gets to be a real slimeball.

Jane Russell, one of my favorite actresses, gets the prize here, though. Miss Russell is always terrific when she gets tough, and she’s plenty tough here. Plus, she gets into another bathtub on the Paramount lot.

Just like she did in Son Of Paleface (1952).

There’s a pretty good shootout in the last reel, after the town’s secret is spilled, with everyone concerned blasting away in the middle of town. I would’ve like for Jane Russell to do some shootin’, but it was not to be. And while you knew an hour earlier that Andrews and Russell would get back together at the end, it’s nicely written and works just fine.

The DVD of Johnny Reno has been out for quite a while, and it’s a pretty solid presentation. The color is excellent and the widescreen image is bright and sharp. (Blu-Rays of things like Ghost And Mr. Chicken and The Good, The Bad And The Ugly show how good Technicolor/Techniscope can look in high definition.)

While Kino Lorber’s release of the Gordon Kay – Audie Murphy Westerns on Blu-Ray urges a reappraisal of those often-dismissed pictures, the Lyles Westerns remain what they always were: low-budget Westerns made to fill out double bills for Paramount — allowing Lyles to give work to his friends, some real pros. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I urge you to give Johnny Reno another look if you come across the DVD.

You can’t go wrong with the others, either, but promise me you won’t watch ’em if you can’t see them widescreen!

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Directed by Anthony Mann
Produced by Aaron Rosenberg
Screenplay by Robert L. Richards & Borden Chase
From a story by Stuart N. Lake
Director Of Photography: William H. Daniels
Film Editor: Edward Curtiss
Musical Director: Joseph Gershenson

Cast: James Stewart (Lin McAdam), Shelley Winters (Lola Manners), Dan Duryea (Waco Johnny Dean), Stephen McNally (Dutch Henry Brown), Millard Mitchell (High-Spade Frankie Wilson), Charles Drake (Steve Miller), John McIntire (Joe Lamont), Will Geer (Wyatt Earp), Jay C. Flippen (Sergeant Wilkes), Rock Hudson (Young Bull)


The last few years have seen huge leaps forward in what movies look like on our fancy new TVs. We’ve seen a few miracles pop up on our screens. The one that comes to mind right off the bat is Anthony Mann’s The Naked Spur (1953), which has been an unsightly, sludgy mess on every video format you care to mention — until Warner Archive gave it a proper restoration for Blu-Ray. That one remains the yard stick I use to measure film restorations.

Now Universal and The Film Foundation have tackled Mann’s Winchester ’73 (1950) and Criterion has released the stunning result out into the world on 4K and Blu-Ray.

Winchester ’73 is the first of Mann’s pictures with James Stewart, and for many, it’s the earliest example of what we like to call Fifties Westerns. (That’s a subject better addressed at another time.) The picture was a big hit, and Stewart’s participation deal made him a whole lotta money. When others followed suit, such deals helped bring down the studio system. Mann and Stewart would make four more Westerns together, along with a few other pictures, in one of Hollywood’s most significant director-star collaborations.

Winchester ’73 doesn’t have a plot in the traditional sense, or it doesn’t seem to. Stewart wins the coveted rifle in a shooting tournament in Dodge City, and it’s promptly stolen from him. The film more or less follows the gun — with the stories of its various “owners” coming together and playing out as the film goes along. One of the scenes that always gets me is that after an Indian attack, Stewart rides off with the missing rifle lying in the brush a few feet away.

It’s probably impossible for us to fathom just how flat-out different this picture must’ve been in 1950. From the shooting contest to the Indian raid to the robbery and the climactic shootout in the rocks, Anthony Mann keeps us on edge throughout Winchester ’73. Of course, if Mann directed an episode of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, you can bet it’d be brutal and intense.

William H. Daniels’ camerawork seems more film noir than cowboy movie. Stewart’s character nearly loses it at least once (going Wig City on Dan Duryea), forcing us to see the actor, and our idea of the Western hero, in a whole new way. And on top of that, the bad guys here are really, really bad.

The Western was at a crossroads as the 40s gave way to the 50s. And though there had been hints along the way at what was coming, you could say Winchester ’73 sat right in the middle of that crossroads. 

So let’s get to this Criterion set, which folks have been pining for for years. First and foremost, Universal and The Film Foundation have really worked wonders on Winchester ’73. It may be the best B&W film transfer I’ve ever seen (the award for color goes to the new The Searchers). William Daniels does so much with shadows and textures here, and they’re perfectly reproduced. Really sharp B&W has an incredible way of creating a sense of depth — and there’s a lot of that in this picture’s last reel. 

You get the feature on both 4K and Blu-Ray disc, which should be appreciated by those contemplating the adoption of yet another format. There are some nice extras, especially a documentary from Ballyhoo on Anthony Mann. But the real jewel is a James Stewart commentary resurrected from the old laserdisc.

Since I started researching and writing the thing that will eventually be called 50 Westerns From The 50s, I’ve gone back and forth about which of the Mann-Stewart pictures to include — Winchester ’73 or Bend Of The River (1952). After revisiting this one, presented like this, the decision has been made once and for all. Turns out this film is even more essential than I thought.

Special thanks (twice!) to Paula V.

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