How about a few westerns.

The Savage Horde (1950), directed by the prolific Joseph Kane. Kane was a regular at Republic Studios churning out westers with the likes of Roy Rogers, John Wayne, Rod Cameron, Forrest Tucker, and ‘Wild Bill’ Elliott. Elliot is the star of The Savage Horde, along with a gallery of familiar players from countless westerns: Earle Hodgins, Douglas Dumbrille, Marshall Reed, Hal Taliaferro, Noah Berry, Jr., Bob Steele, Grant Withers, Will Wright, and so on. Bob Steele is a villainous, sneering gunslinger and Earle Hodgins is the comic gun salesman; the two provide memorable performances. William Elliott is the sturdy and stoic hero; he is on the run from the cavalry because he has killed an army officer (in self defense, of course). He finds himself in the town of Gunlock where small ranchers are quarreling with the big boss rancher who wants all their cattle and land. This is familiar stuff, and the plot plays out predictably. It also plays out efficiently under the capable direction of Kane who handles the action well. The characters are well defined, and they even have some dimension. The transitions from location shots to sets and back to location shots in single scenes are better than we might expect for such low budget fare. All in all, this is a pleasant oater!

 

The Gunfighter (1950), directed by Henry King. One of the best-known westerns of the early 1950s, The Gunfighter has the brooding mood and darkness of a film such as The Ox-Bow Incident (1942). The story is simple. Gunfighter Jimmy Ringo (Gregory Peck) comes to town to see his wife and son after an eight-year absence. His old friend, Mark Strett (Millard Mitchell) is the town marshal who does not carry a gun and who wears just one spur. Anyway, Ringo is the object of curiosity and he also attracts young men looking to make a reputation. Most of the film takes place indoors, especially in the saloon where Ringo waits to see his wife and son. The sense of enclosure and entrapment is palpable. The focus is on character, not action, and the film has little gunplay. Noteworthy is the first confrontation between Ringo and a young spark looking to make his reputation. We see the young man draw, hear gunshots, then cut quickly to a shot of Ringo standing at the bar with a glass in one hand and a gun in the other. The young man lies on the floor. The film is distinguished by Arthur C. Miller’s cinematography, his careful use of light and shades of grey, and his deep focus. Miller worked with John Ford on The Long Voyage Home (1940) and How Green Was My Valley (1941); he won an Oscar for the latter film. This is the film referenced in Bob Dylan’s “Brownsville Girl.”

 

The Naked Dawn (1955), directed by Edgar G. Ulmer. Ulmer, the efficient director of intimate B-grade films, made only two westerns. This is the second. The first, for those who might like to know, is Thunder Over Texas (1934), a film he made under the pseudonym, John Warner. The Naked Dawn is one of the few colour films Ulmer made, and it looks fine. Francois Truffaut claims that it influenced his film, Jules et Jim. He does not specify in what way Ulmer’s film influenced him, but both films are about a love triangle, if this helps. In The Naked Dawn, Arthur Kennedy plays a Mexican bandit, Santiago, who happens across a small farmhouse with rather naïve newlyweds. Santiago befriends these young people, gets the young man in some trouble, attracts the young woman, and generally has a rousing time, playing the part with gusto. The plot owes something to films such as The Treasure of Sierra Madre and Lust for Gold and other films that deal with greed and desire.  It also may owe something to Fritz Lang’s Rancho Notorious in its insistence on interiors that reinforce the feeling of enclosure. Although a western, The Naked Dawn is less than clear regarding the time of the action. The motorized vehicles suggest a period as late as the 1930s. Anyway, I like the look of this film, Kennedy’s quite robust acting, and the efficiency of the directing.