I know close to nothing about John Sherwood, more often than not assistant director. He did direct RAW EDGE, though not to any memorable extent: its leading male figure, Rory Calhoun, hardly has a longer role than baddie Neville Brand, and the two female leads appear to be there as eye candy more than for any other reason.
As it turns out, RAW EDGE opens with an unusual written panel saying that in Oregon in 1842 a woman could be claimed on sight by any man and she would belong to the first claimer. When I read that, I rubbed my hands in anticipation of watching many fisticuffs over such beauties as de Carlo and Corday.
Alas, the two ladies already have husbands at the film's start, so in no time I rated myself a gullible dope.
Anyway, I did not stop (intrigued by which ogre had assaulted and tried to bed de Carlo) and soon learned of "Indian" Mara Corday losing her hubby, which should prompt a male race for her hand... alas, it did not. She was allowed to run to her Indian tribe, get support from it, and ultimately engineer her revenge.
The fellow I thought would seek revenge at all costs was the brother of Corday's hanged hubby - you guessed it, Rory plays that part, but never with any particular scent for blood and looking nothing short of aloof at times. To boot, he makes quite a few mistakes, allows his gun to fall into baddies' hands, and twice has other bodies stop bullets intended for him. Lucky boy!
By the end, the premise of women with no rights in Oregon is well and truly forgotten, even if Brand and his pa have designs on de Carlo, once her rich husband has been disposed of.
That is when characters start getting their guns out and by that point the action rekindled memories of 10-year-old me and my brother shooting plastic bullets at each other, and claiming that we had been hit in the shoulder, the ear, the foot, and other "safe" body parts and we hadn't croaked yet.
Neville Brand probably steals the show, Rex Reason - what a name! - plays a most affable gambler who dies... hmmm... affably and forgetably enough.
Calhoun looks like he may have wanted to be involved in some other production
Relative shortness (75 min) and lovely landscapes cut some of the viewer's losses. Sadly, those superb vistas are repeatedly partially blocked by superimposed Indian smoke signals on just about every Oregon mountain, though the Indians on the war path threat never really materializes.
The script by Essex and Hill stays within the confines of sheer mediocrity, with unintentional laughable moments, particularly when shootouts result repeatedly in shots in the shoulder, and the victim often manages to survive.
All told, 75 minutes wasted. No rewatch for me! 6/10.
