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Tag Archives: Joan Barton

Angel and the Badman (Feb. 15, 1947)

James Edward Grant’s Angel and the Badman is a fish-out-of-water story about a gunfighter named Quirt Evans (John Wayne) who renounces violence after he is injured and nursed back to health by a pretty Quaker girl named Penelope Worth (Gail Russell) and taken in by her community. Like most Hollywood movies of this sort, Angel and the Badman has its cake and eats it too — it preaches nonviolence, but is still jam-packed with gunfights and fistfights.

The action is fast and furious from the very opening moments of the film, which begins with a close-up of a gun being drawn, the shooter fanning the hammer, firing from right to left, emptying the cylinder, and then running to his horse.

Legendary stuntman Yakima Canutt was the second unit director on this picture, and it shows. There’s a cattle raid sequence that’s among the best I’ve seen, and most of the action is well-staged. There’s one orgy of fistfighting, however, that was so over-the-top that I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be funny or not. By the time the melee was finished, every visible piece of wood in the saloon was in splinters.

Angel and the Badman was John Wayne’s first time as a producer, and it feels like a labor of love. Unfortunately, the direction, cinematography, and pacing of the film aren’t up to the standard of Wayne’s other pictures I’ve seen from the ’40s. The music is especially bad, and is rarely appropriate for the scene it’s accompanying. At its heart, Angel and the Badman is a B picture with an A-list star.

The film ends with a line that could be interpreted as pro gun control — “Only a man who carries a gun ever needs one.” This is a rarity for a western, especially one starring John Wayne, but if you’re a traditional sort, don’t worry; all the bad guys die of lead poisoning before the film is through.

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Romance of the West (March 20, 1946)

Romance of the West is a movie with its heart in the right place, if nothing else. It’s filmed in Cinecolor (a two-color film process, a.k.a. “not Technicolor”), which might initially fool you into thinking that it’s a high-class affair. Make no mistake, however. Romance of the West is bottom of the barrel, even by the notoriously low standards of the studio that distributed it, P.R.C. (Producers Releasing Corporation).

In the grand tradition of singing cowboys, country and western star Eddie Dean plays a character named “Eddie Dean.” Eddie is an Indian agent sympathetic to the plight of his American Indian pals. He’s got a great singing voice, but not much else. When delivering lines, Eddie appears to be a life-size mannequin with a string in his back that somebody pulled to make him talk. He’s a lunkhead with a big, dopey mouth and zero screen presence. In a review of one of his films from the ’40s (I don’t know which one), the NY Times said, “Instead of the usual black and white, Eddie Dean’s newest western has been shot in Cinecolor, but it’s not an improvement; you can still see him.”

So why do I say that Romance of the West has its heart in the right place? Well, because it treats its Indian characters with a degree of respect, and there’s mention of all the treaties with them that the United States broke, forcing them into smaller and smaller reservations. But after lip service is paid, the plot goes off the rails. Eddie was supposedly raised by the Indians. So why doesn’t he speak their language with them, or act like them in any way? He’s also a tool of the paternalistic Bureau of Indian Affairs, and toes the line, but it’s presented as a wholly positive thing. When he informs his friend Chief Eagle Feather that the Indians’ land is being stocked with 200 head of cattle, since the buffalo are all dead, the chief acts as if it’s Christmas morning, and he just got the present he always wanted.

The tribe is never named. They’re all “Indians.” There are, however, good Indians and bad Indians. A consortium of powerful men who want the silver that exists on the good Indians’ land gin up some bad Indians to rape and pillage so the good Indians can be blamed for it and driven off their land with the government’s approval.

In a ridiculous scene following a raid by the bad Indians on the good Indians, a little boy is mourning his father’s death. Eddie asks the chief if he know the boy’s name and the chief says, “All I know is that him Indian boy,” or some such twaddle. Never mind that the kid’s at least seven years old and should probably know his own name. Eddie decides he’ll call him “Little Brown Jug” and takes him to be raised by the local monk, Father Sullivan (Forrest Taylor), even though the chief offers to take the boy in. Eddie and Father Sullivan cut Brown Jug’s long hair and dress him like a cowboy. And we’re supposed to believe that Eddie was raised by Indians?

Incidentally, Chief Eagle Feather is played by an actor listed in the credits as “Chief Thundercloud.” Chief Thundercloud was actually a part-Cherokee actor named Victor Daniels, who also had Scottish, Irish, and German ancestors. He played Tonto in two serials and the lead role in Geronimo (1939).

There’s really nothing to recommend Romance of the West aside from the songs, of which there are several; “Ridin’ the Trail to Dreamland,” “Love Song of the Waterfall,” and “Indian Dawn.” The arrangements are good, and Dean has a great voice. A great voice for radio, that is. To paraphrase the Times, the problem with this movie is that you can see him.