Galgenvögel

In childhood, my interest in cowboys centered around Fred Thomson and his horse Silver King. I did not pay much attention to the villains but I remembered that Fred Kohler was usually the leader of the 'black hats'. Raymond Hatton was only known then as the erstwhile partner of the popular comedy team of Raymond Hatton and Wallace Beery. Some time within the last five years or so, my constant monitoring of old time movies presented on TV resulted in my capturing 'Hell's Heroes'. What a discovery it was for me!

I had always remembered "The Three Godfathers" with Chester Morris, Lewis Stone and Walter Brennan from my teenage years. In fact, it had driven me to the local library to read the original story by Peter B. Kyne.

One would never have guessed that Charles Bickford would be the hero of this 1930 movie but he filled the role admirably. With the aforementioned Fred Kohler and Raymond Hatton in the supporting roles, the 'three godfathers' were a formidable thespian trio. This film, produced when it was without today's modern advantages, is an excellent model of fine early movie-making. And it should certainly be seen to get insight into the technological advances that subsequently resulted in the 1936 version with Chester Morris, Lewis Stone and Walter Brennan, as well as the Technicolor version in 1948 with John Wayne, Harry Carey, Jr. and Pedro Armendariz.

The strength of the novella by P.B. Kyne is evident through all three versions. If this title appears on your TV schedule, don't let the date of 1930 scare you away. The writing of screenplays by different persons may alter the end result but a strong well written story with excellent acting will always produce an enjoyable film. You might be surprised how dry your throat is at the end of this picture but you will also be strangely satisfied with the ending.

There is a production still photo (reprinted recently in Scott Eyeman's 'The Speed Of Sound') that has haunted me ever since I first came across it in 1968. It was in a humanities class text. We had studied von Stroheim's "Greed" and upturned the story of how. while shooting on location in the Mojave Desert, the cameras had to be iced against the heat while the crew's cook died from the solar furnace. And here, four years later in the Panamint Hills, is a black and white of a sound film crew out in the desert. A long black cable in the sand leading up to an airtight meat locker housing the camera and its operator. The sun blazing down, I wondered, what kind of a film could get done under these conditions? Further research heightened my frustration as William Wyler was listed as the director (must be a good film), but it was for Universal, already notorious for keeping their early talkies tightly vaulted.

Flash forward 34 years (and a big Thank You Ted Turner and TCM). It is 2:30 AM and I can't sleep. In the next room, a VCR awaits its task of making sure I don't miss this. But I'm pacing the floor for an hour and a half, heart pounding with anticipation. "I can't be very good", I tell myself, "Bickford isn't Gable". Fade up, dozens of bat-wing parchments of nitrate flap before some lamp and credits roll, I'M FINALLY SEEING IT! The camera's lens prowls back and forth across barren landscape, as though it was looking for something. Three riders appear on horseback. The dialogue begins and it's good, the camera moves right along with the riders. The lighting is remarkable as the faces well-saturate the negative [something anyone who has attempted photography in bright sunlight will appreciate]. In town, this gang's leader is in the saloon making time with the ladies. Bickford establishes his character in this sequence as one who is harder and more heartless than anyone else in westerns. He'll tell the sheriff he's going to rob the bank (across the street). A high establishing shot shows the whole town, then a shot tracks with Bickford approaching the bank as his gang rides up. This is cinema, a montage of perceptions that completely fill the viewer's consciousness. This film is very, very good.

George Robinson's photography is extraordinary, with fine compositions and contrasts. His vistas are jam packed and firmly place the viewer into this nothingness. The actors' beards progress with the time frame, and the place is so dirty you'll run for the Pledge.

It's filled with those two second throwaways that tell so much about the characters but do nothing to advance the plot. Such as when the gang leans on the teller's counter, one cowboy's boot scuffs at the bottom for a bar rail. At the saloon, a short skirted woman dances for the patrons, a low angle shot gives a glimpse of garter. The sheriff, seated nearby, drops something and pretends to pick it up. He stares lecherously at the dancing knees. Yet, a moment later, when Bickford invites him to drink, the sheriff's back on his moral high horse. Bickford bites and slaps the girl, after all this is pre-code.

The characters are complex and juxtaposed images abound. Charles Bickford's portrayal is unforgettable. Here is a picture that deserves recognition as one of the classics, a film that transcends its primitive equipment. Makes one wonder what else is locked up in the vaults of the Big U.

Although the manner of film narration dates this picture badly, it can be appreciated for its considerable merits, not merely as an historical curiosity. The juxtaposition of figures and landscape (particularly desert) is powerful, accenting the isolation and desperation of the outlaws. Its final scene, like that of "The Informer" (which it pre-dates), may be highly melodramatic, but works effectively within its context. Charles Bickford, in the early portion of the picture, is terrifying as a human rattlesnake: mean, ruthless, just plain down and dirty nasty to whoever crosses his path.

I viewed this film as a historical piece on locations. It is footage of the town of the old mining town of Bodie, pre-fire which destroyed 90% of the remaining town in 1933. It is now a state park and the official ghost town of Calif. Having visited several times, it was amazing to see actual businesses and buildings that no longer stand. And the ones that do - 80 years later. The church that is seen in several of the exteriors is still there today, but none of the buildings seen between it and the main street exist. This would have been, in 1929, a long way to travel for a location shot with crew and equipment. I'm glad they did.

This film starts off in a way that had me thinking the template for standard Westerns hadn't changed a whole lot over the years - three bad guys ride into a dusty town, meet up with another, act like general dickheads and then rob a bank before skedaddling, guns blazing. Where it diverges is out in the desert, when they come across a woman who has been abandoned in a covered wagon. When the leader (Charles Bickford) growls at the others "I saw her first," we feel real menace in what might come next. I won't say anything further about the plot, though the film was remade by John Ford a couple of decades later in '3 Godfathers', which true fans of the genre may know of. Anyway, what seems like a creaky old film with early sound technology gives way to a lean, unsentimental, and gritty story. William Wyler makes us feel the tension and the dirtiness of the setting, and the film zips by in a little over an hour. It's not completely fleshed out, but that's part of what I liked about it. It seems to me a raw little gem.