The opening scene, coinciding with a music-less credit sequence, is somehow moody and dark in its simplicity. The film that follows is as well. Hampered by poor sound recording, we see a film in which their is no "star" per se. Rather, we have good vs. bad played out before us by a competent, if undistinguished cast. Maybe that's what made this film appeal to me. Robert Frazer may have been a star at one time, but he appears to have fallen on hard times here. Lane Chandler is almost indistinguishable, and Louise Lorraine looks as if she's not wearing make-up. William Walling, the doctor in The Jazz Singer, has a brief grand-standing appearance, and the villain, one Edward Lynch, chews the scenery perfectly with a strange line to boot. You never know what you'll find in an early talking B-western! They all have their quirks.
In summary, there's nothing glamorous about this film. It is gritty, in its way, but it's not great by any means. It would be an enjoyable fifty-five minutes for you to watch this, and marvel at why Hollywood would not return to the earthiness of the West that is portrayed here, for another twenty years.
In summary, there's nothing glamorous about this film. It is gritty, in its way, but it's not great by any means. It would be an enjoyable fifty-five minutes for you to watch this, and marvel at why Hollywood would not return to the earthiness of the West that is portrayed here, for another twenty years.
