THE RESTLESS BREED (1957)

This is the final Western from director Allan Dwan, known for many "oaters." It is also my first Western added to this blog after a decade considering a pre-1960 Western that is not typical fare. My "first draw" to this particular Western was Scott Brady. With a long career as a famous leading and supporting player, he can usually elevate B-movies. Unlike most Westerns of the era, the film opens oddly (uniquely?) with a black background behind a glowing red modern font of credits accompanied by a contemporary music score by Edward L. Alperson Jr. The result creates an impression more attuned to a low-budget horror film by William Castle. The opening music somewhat foretells Brady's own television Western, Shotgun Slade, with its atypical jazz score. 

The Restless Breed is distributed by 20th Century Fox. The Pathécolor tinting is of questionable quality in a film that utilizes bluish (night) studio sets along with location filming. Set in 1865, the story is written by Steve Fisher. Joining Brady as main cast members are Anne Bancroft and Rhys Williams. Many will note a few familiar B-movie character actors. Fine performances all around. Be prepared for some unnecessary and disruptive two-second edits that return the viewer to another location during a break in the conversation. There is an overabundance of character eavesdropping, too, but it is not intended to be humorous.

A lawyer with a temper, Brady opens the film as it confirms his father, a Secret Service Agent, has been murdered. The incident is told in a brief flashback that has true spoiler-alert credentials. He accepts his father's revolver but not the badge. Bent on revenge, he goes to the town where the murder took place, a Texas-Mexico border town overrun by the typical gang of outlaws. After a self-defensive shooting of two town bullies, everyone thinks he is their latest gunslinger.

There appears to be a significant role for Scott Marlowe, yet he is irrelevant until near the movie's end. The young Marlowe pops up throughout the film, lurking nervously against storefront posts, in alleys, or peeping through a broken section of a saloon window. His every appearance proves he does not have the nerve to shoot down Brady. This eavesdropper reports to Leo Gordon, one of the gun-runners, whose boss is Jim Davis.

Williams is quite the eavesdropper, himself. These "advanced notifications" make him wise beyond his understanding. He is perceived as the only sensible factor in town, benefiting from dressing in black like a minister. When pressed by Brady, however, he admits to the impersonation. Only his word should be taken as gospel. The tunnel-visioned Williams deems his good intentions are best for the whole town. His soft-spoken demeanor always wins out. It is hard to argue with a man who initiated a children's shelter for unwanted half-breeds. The oldest being Bancroft. Williams becomes much more "hard-spoken" when she becomes enamored with Brady. Always ready to make demands, she must stay away from that no-good gunslinging [though handsome] criminal.

All the town's previous sheriffs have been murdered soon after taking office. Brady himself survives numerous assassination attempts, but the gang's numbers only dwindle. Beware of a hot-headed lawyer with a gun. Williams finally gets the facts straight about Brady and nearly apologizes. The murderer arrives back in town with a few of his henchmen. We learn of Marlowe's small part in the murder, then he disappears from the film. We can only assume he still lurks in the next town. Everyone supposed to be dead is now dead, and Williams supports the Brady-Bancroft union.

Note: I could not pinpoint the restless breed. It could be Brady, out for revenge. The contraband gang is quite restless. Perhaps it is Bancroft, wanting to break out of a children's shelter. Perhaps it is all three or the town itself. It could be the four producers of the film.

UNDERTOW (1949)

Distributed by Universal Pictures, produced by Ralph Dietrich, and directed by William Castle, this film is not ground-breaking, but it does fly by thanks to a screenplay by Arthur T. Horman and Lee Loeb. Unfortunately, they offer an assumed outcome in the first ten minutes of this seventy-one-minute film. How it plays out is well handled with a couple of (obvious) surprises. The filming in Chicago may bring back memories if you lived there during this era. It is yet another B-movie noir with little to fault or remember. Paul Sawtell took the reins as the composer, but none of the themes in this movie will be hummed after the ending.

Scott Brady, doing a great job here as a handsome I-take-care-of-myself former Chicago mobster, ex-con, and war veteran, turning over a new leaf as manager of a lodge in Reno. Before leaving on a quick trip back home to Chicago and “mend a fence” or two, he spots his old friend and colleague from the Windy City, John Russell, a fellow casino owner. As both get up to speed on their seven-year separation, each is excited to share a glimpse of their engagement rings for their respective girl. Strolling through the casino, Brady accidentally bumps into vacationing Peggy Dow. Pardons are accepted, but they stumble upon each other a second time, laughing at the coincidence. 

He and Dow are so comfortable together that there is little surprise they will have a future together within the hour. She is an unassuming elementary teacher from Chicago with zero gambling experience, but has won twice with only two dice rolls. After seeing the handler change the dice after a nod from Russell, Brady makes an astute gambling decision on her behalf so she can win again. Russell is not amused and feigns his disappointment that Brady has to leave so soon. This is that ten-minute point. Based on Russell’s early film roles with his angular face and “dangerous” arching eyebrows, there is no surprise, either, that he has ulterior motives. It will be no surprise, as well, that Dow and Brady are on the same plane back to Chicago. Good odds. She may not be any good at it, but she is willing to gamble on a relationship.

No sooner than hitting the pavement from the airliner steps, Brady is met by a childhood friend, now detective, Bruce Bennett, above, with the nearly invisible Roc (Rock) Hudson in his fifty-second stint as a police detective. Bennett has orders to bring Brady in for questioning. The police captain is especially hard on Brady, accusing him of returning just to kill mob kingpin, Big Jim. The police tail him with little success. Brady reunites with his girl, Dorothy Hart, Big Jim’s niece, at Buckingham Fountain along Lake Shore Drive. Brady wants to make peace with him so they can get married. Later that night, Brady is attacked, shot in the forearm, and placed in a car across the road from a diner—a revolver placed beside him. Gadzooks! Then, perhaps the only surprise in the film, the character actor with the over-the-top Southern drawl, Robert Easton, shows up as a parking valet of sorts for the country diner. Cars are parked willy-nilly in the gravel lot, and he offers to park Brady’s car. Spotting a parked police car, Brady makes a quick exit and finds out Big Jim is suddenly not available for any future scenes, and a clichéd frame is afoot. Dow goes the extra “magnificent mile” to protect Brady, while Bennett, unfairly suspended by the captain for supporting an innocent man, has evidence to help clear Brady.

Unsurprisingly, Russell shows up in Chicago with Hart in the mansion she inherited from “Big Dead Jim.” Brady expects help from both, but she is pretty icy about it. He then notices the chunk of “ice” around her finger that Russell had shown him in Reno. Again, no surprise who orchestrated the murder and frame-up. A rapid, happy ending evolves for Brady and Dow, at least.

NOTE: Some suggest Peggy Dow was bland in this outing. Perhaps hard to argue with, casting her did seem appropriate. She is sweet in this role. Probably best she ended her three-year acting career after marrying an oil baron. Otherwise, she might have been lost in guest-starring roles after her television transition. Dorothy Hart never set a film frame on fire, either, but she should have. She is pretty one-dimensional as a devious female with hardly more than a smirk or smile. Smoki Whitfield has three brief and effective scenes as Big Jim's long-time aide, out to get whoever killed his boss. Perhaps the most memorable takeaway from the movie other than Robert Easton's obligatory performance.

MOHAWK (1956)

There are enough embarrassing movies to do a very long film festival, but this film ranks—in the literal sense—fairly high. The film is often categorized as a Western, but it is really an "Eastern." This eighty-minute film was distributed by 20th Century Fox. Beyond the obvious Hollywood sets foreshadowing television's Bonanza are outdoor sequences from 1939’s Drums Along the Mohawk, which add the only gravitas to the film. The actors mostly justify their salaries, so it is not entirely their fault. Most of my arrows are aimed at the screenwriter, Maurice Geraghty, and director Kurt Neumann. The film is produced by Edward L. Alperson, who also wrote the music, after a fashion. The B-movie casting net was not very wide, relying on the popular Scott Brady, Neville Brand, Ted de Corsia, Allison Hayes, John Hoyt, Rita Gam, and Lori Nelson. All destined for television notoriety. Unintentionally funny can bring the house or teepee down. It is easy to imagine Mel Brooks remaking this film.

Brady plays an 18th-century Casanova painter from Boston looking for subjects and action in early America. Quoting King Richard from The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), after Robin stops a group of horsemen (the gallivanting King's entourage) but does not recognize him, he asks if he is loyal to the King. With tongue-in-cheek, he states, "I love no man better." So it goes for Brady. The local tavern waitress at the military fort is a red-headed Hayes, his favorite model to add "flavor" to his landscapes. Never mind that visiting Nelson is his fiancée. Captain Kirk should be so lucky. Gam had a European facial structure (being born in Pittsburgh), so naturally, she plays a beautiful Native American. Aside from his premixed paints in pig’s bladders, she becomes Brady's main squeeze. The Iroquois appear to be Wall Street businessmen or taxi drivers, and the actor playing de Corsia's teenage son came directly from the set of Rebel Without A Cause. "Hateful Hoyt" deceptively seeks to generate war between the Continental Army and the Indians, ridding the Mohawk Valley of all bad haircuts, leaving the land all to himself. Brand is cast as the only member of the little-known sub-tribe, the "Irritated Iroquois," and is suspicious of the “white paint man.” His tirade against de Corsia's tribe, nearly an hour into the film, is pretty embarrassing. Scenes will have you laughing or groaning.

An excellent print of this film will be sharp and clear with vibrant colors. To an unrealistic level.

The set designers were apparently going through their blue-violet-lavender period. It is overwhelming at times. Case in point: for those familiar with his myriad of gangster and Western villain roles, de Corsia—the "Chief Mohawkster" above—is visually hilarious with his spectacular mohawk and two-week-dead, violet-brown makeup. He looks quite healthy inside his teepee, but once he steps out onto the studio set, aka outdoors, "he goes" very dark.

His monotone Iroquois dialect is not believable, either. One studio set (above, bottom) may remind one of the color palette in a Maxfield Parrish painting. The Indians sitting around the fire, the "Mohawk Singers," are singing a melodic chant in professional mixed four-part harmony. They should tour more often.

Perhaps in an effort to save the film from a total disaster, there is a climactic, rifle-blasting finale battle at the army fort with the Indians. Hoyt finally gets his wish and his due. In the end, we learn little of early American history, or authentic painting, except that oil paints travel well in saddlebags. The flammable turpentine to clean the brushes is totally ignored.

Note: The credits are dealt with uniquely, suggesting a documentary. The red, modern font text on a black background introduces the film as "A Legend of the Iroquois..." and the film ends with the actors' credits, "...and these were the players of the legend," showing a clip of each actor with their character name.