Phil Karlson was an erratic director who could sometimes hit one out of the ball park, perhaps without meaning to, as in "Walking Tall." This is one of his better efforts, with some intrinsic ambiguity. There are some interesting moral dilemmas. For instance, you love your son. Would you kill him if he were threatening to kill you?
The beetle-browed Van Heflin is splendid, as usual. After one or two stereotyped parts in his early career, he began to bring a great deal of conviction to his roles. He may have given the best performance in "Shane." And he's convincing here, too, as one of those "powerful men around here" who fought the Indians and enforced his own law when none other was available.
But now, some years have gone by and that approach is out dated. Heflin doesn't quite seem to realize it. He runs his ranch honestly and he's a man of honor but he remains a racist. The town is now settled peacefully and has a sheriff and a deputy, which Heflin treats with friendly disdain.
But his real trouble is with his two sons, reckless and increasingly violent Tab Hunter, and law-abiding tolerant James Darren -- one good, one bad. Heflin approves of the bad son who gets drunk sometimes, has a sweet temper, is quick with his fists, and doesn't like to be bested in any contest. It reminds Heflin of his own youth.
The problem is that Hunter's infractions grow beyond the tolerable. The sheriff is an old friend of Heflin's but when Hunter shoots and kills a couple of men, he has to draw the line. So does Heflin, who now sees what he's responsible for.
Heflin is fine. Katherine Grant is a half breed who is only around so that the tender-hearted Darren can fall in love with her and Heflin can vent his hatred of Indians. ("That SQUAW!") The supporting cast is fine, a good handful of seasoned professionals.
The sons are two handsome young heart throbs of the period. Neither can act. There is handsome young Tab Hunter, outfitted in tight shirts and slacks; and there is handsome young James Darren, in looser clothing as befits someone who doesn't like guns but can love a squaw. Behind the nicely chiseled Aryan face of Tab Hunter lies Arthur Andrew Kelm, a strapping kid from New York who looked good enough to get into the movies although he never uttered a believable word. And behind the troubled yet hopeful eyes of James Darren, we find James William Ercolani, a kid from Philadelphia who looked good enough to get into the movies although he never uttered a believable word.
The story's moral complexity lifts it out of the ordinary shoot-'em-up Western. The two heart throbs almost sink it but it survives despite the carnage they've wrought.
The beetle-browed Van Heflin is splendid, as usual. After one or two stereotyped parts in his early career, he began to bring a great deal of conviction to his roles. He may have given the best performance in "Shane." And he's convincing here, too, as one of those "powerful men around here" who fought the Indians and enforced his own law when none other was available.
But now, some years have gone by and that approach is out dated. Heflin doesn't quite seem to realize it. He runs his ranch honestly and he's a man of honor but he remains a racist. The town is now settled peacefully and has a sheriff and a deputy, which Heflin treats with friendly disdain.
But his real trouble is with his two sons, reckless and increasingly violent Tab Hunter, and law-abiding tolerant James Darren -- one good, one bad. Heflin approves of the bad son who gets drunk sometimes, has a sweet temper, is quick with his fists, and doesn't like to be bested in any contest. It reminds Heflin of his own youth.
The problem is that Hunter's infractions grow beyond the tolerable. The sheriff is an old friend of Heflin's but when Hunter shoots and kills a couple of men, he has to draw the line. So does Heflin, who now sees what he's responsible for.
Heflin is fine. Katherine Grant is a half breed who is only around so that the tender-hearted Darren can fall in love with her and Heflin can vent his hatred of Indians. ("That SQUAW!") The supporting cast is fine, a good handful of seasoned professionals.
The sons are two handsome young heart throbs of the period. Neither can act. There is handsome young Tab Hunter, outfitted in tight shirts and slacks; and there is handsome young James Darren, in looser clothing as befits someone who doesn't like guns but can love a squaw. Behind the nicely chiseled Aryan face of Tab Hunter lies Arthur Andrew Kelm, a strapping kid from New York who looked good enough to get into the movies although he never uttered a believable word. And behind the troubled yet hopeful eyes of James Darren, we find James William Ercolani, a kid from Philadelphia who looked good enough to get into the movies although he never uttered a believable word.
The story's moral complexity lifts it out of the ordinary shoot-'em-up Western. The two heart throbs almost sink it but it survives despite the carnage they've wrought.