Today, I’d like to focus on an important staple of the genre: the mediocre Western. These are often my favorites. They’re not John Ford or Sergio Leone, but sometimes that’s a relief.
I mean, just listen to this:
Sunset In The West – Roy Rogers (1950)youtu.be
Sometimes, you want to put your feet up and take a load off. That’s when you turn to Roy Rogers, the original Rhinestone Cowboy.
I love this movie. Adore it. When I’m having a bad day, it’s either Roy Rogers or John Wayne and Robert Mitchum in “El Dorado.”
There’s a plot. I’m sure there is. But it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Almost like the script was written by AI.
But it doesn’t matter. Show me some gun fights, some horse chases, some ups and downs. Tell me how to feel with the music and the characters’ reactions.
And some humor, like the hiccuping barber who shaves the guy’s wig. Haha.
The spontaneous musical scenes are fantastic. So perfectly unnatural. Very dated. And thank God for that, to have a perfect timestamp on a supposedly insignificant moment in the grand scheme of things.
I love it when Westerns spontaneously burst into lynching scenes, when townspeople spontaneously form into a murderous group of persecutors.
But, come on, this is “Sunset in the West.” The good guy is going to win. And he’ll do it in style on his “we fit like a glove” palomino, Trigger.
We watch these kinds of Westerns because sometimes it just doesn’t feel right to see the innocents die. Sometimes you can’t stomach the hint of a thought of a lovely little child losing candy, let alone winding up in the scummy depths of a well (as in Budd Boetticher’s “The Tall T”).
This isn’t a lazy entry, per se. But, in many ways, it ought to be.
What does the title “Sunset in the West” have to do with what happens in the movie? There’s never so much as an attempt at the sort of high-brow philosophical wordplay you find in more venerable Westerns.
Then again, we don’t watch Westerns for lessons on Plato and Hegel. We migrate to them instinctively, because real life is full of bad days, treacherous days, and it’s nice to have a friendly face on the TV, a warm singing voice to let us know that light really does triumph over darkness.
Roy Rogers has not one but four different stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Well deserved, I say.
“Sunset in the West” features Roy Rogers and his beautiful horse, Trigger, as well as the country Western band Riders of the Purple Sage.
At the time, a review in the theater owners trade magazine BoxOffice noted:
“Patrons may have occasion to wonder just what relation the title has to the subject matter — the answer is, none at all — but otherwise the picture ranks with the best Rogers has made in recent months.”
The best picture he’s made in recent months. Not years. Not decades. Months. That’s how many Westerns Roy Rogers was starring in — that year alone, 1950, he was in six.
A tidy little film. It’s deeply formulaic. But I happen to be a fan of the formula.
Westerns evince disorder. Social violence, widespread and extreme.
I mean the slapstick barroom brawl scene, which goes on way too long and features at least one beanbag prop of a human performing impractical tricks. The best part is the total lack of concern from the producers and cinematographers and special effects experts.
They did not care.
But, plenty of positives, also. The chase scene is great cinema. Lots of action. Pure action, really.
Directed by William Whitney — I’m sure that’s important. Or it isn’t. Which is nice, because not every Western has to be a masterpiece in order to be a treasure.
One of my favorite things about Westerns is the blend of garish stage sets and intoxicating wilderness. But the switch between them is often sloppy. Oh, man, I love it when it is. The jolt in perspective actually draws me closer to the characters.
“Sunset in the West” is not “Stagecoach” or “The Searchers.” This is a film, a Western, designed to satisfy people who just want a good story, pinned to a familiar face.
Oh man, and that fight scene. Watch “Sunset in the West” simply for that.
The response of the townsfolk to the sheriff is oddly civilized compared to many Westerns. Or, at least it starts that way.
Those scene-fade transitions are lovely. In general, the whole thing feels rushed, but somehow that makes it more enjoyable — the cut corners give this film a feisty charm. Sometimes, it’s nice to see a bit of bad slapstick, dogs that steal sausages from food carts run by sleepy Mexicans.
Some psychopath hurts the dog. But don’t worry — this isn’t “Hondo.” He lives to pilfer sausages another day.
The B Westerns have so many lovely characteristics. Their charm, for one. The accents. Either they’re perfect or they’re awful. Either the actors are real-deal country folk, with a few good actors in there; or bad actors stuck in the B-circuit, desperate enough to alienate everyone.
Ultimately, though, you watch this movie for one reason: Roy Rogers. Like John Wayne or Randolph Scott or Robert Mitchum or Jimmy Stewart or Barbara Stanwyck, I‘ll watch any movie with Roy Rogers in it. And, whether or not it’s good, I’ll probably keep it on repeat.
There’s something deeply relaxing about Roy Rogers. His presence. Wholesome, calming. A good ol’ boy who lives to protect the innocent and chase down the bad guys.
Then, there’s the unlikely cure for hiccups, a scene that exemplifies everything I’m touting here: somewhat bad acting, overly staged, a little rushed, but incredibly valuable in its laziness and imperfections.
To tell you the truth, the first time I watched “Sunset in the West,” I stopped paying attention about halfway through. Still, it was lovely to have on in the background.
Since then, I’ve probably put it on several more times. It’s that kind of movie. And sometimes, that’s just the kind of movie you need.
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