The Law West of Tombstone

In the late 1930s, every major studio had a B-movie unit. Most of them produced B-westerns. Warner Brothers churned out quick oaters starring singing cowboy Dick Foran; Republic produced titles starring Gene Autry and Roy Goers; Universal had Johnny Mack Brown headline a series of B-westerns; and RKO signed George O'Brien.

One B-western script at RKO was given to Harry Carey instead of George O'Brien. This is probably because the lead character, an old mayor slash judge, fit Mr. Carey's persona better than it did the handsome O'Brien, who played more romantic heroes. THE LAW WEST OF TOMBSTONE has Carey dispensing wisdom and trying to help a hellion played by young Tim Holt, who ironically would unseat O'Brien as RKO's main B-western star in the 1940s.

In the story Holt is an outlaw that Carey wants to help go straight. The background for Carey's character is that he had previously experienced his own scrapes with the law and is now a reformed man the townsfolk of Tombstone look up to...obviously, a personage based on Judge Roy Bean. As for Holt's character, he shares more than a few similarities with Billy the Kid.

Added into the mix is a lovely gal played by Jean Rouverol, whom we might say resembles Calamity Jane. Despite different names being used for the trio, I am sure audiences would've been able to infer which famous figures had inspired these performances and enjoyed watching the tale unfold on screen.

Jean Rouverol was new to the western format, having previously worked in comedies, and she does a nice job here. She portrayed W. C. Fields' daughter in IT'S A GIFT (1934) a few years earlier at Paramount, and had a supporting role in RKO's ensemble drama about theater hopefuls, STAGE DOOR (1938). I should add that Miss Rouverol was the daughter of Aurania Rouverol, who created the Andy Hardy series for MGM.

Jean Rouverol would marry screenwriter Hugo Butler, who became blacklisted. She later wrote a book about their time abroad during the McCarthy era called 'Refugees from Hollywood.' She was one of the most influential professors I studied under at the University of Southern California. She taught me about the long-term effects of the blacklist, and a considerable deal about writing since her acting career ended up taking a backseat to her career as a writer for film and television.

As for Harry Carey, he had a long and varied career, going back to silent features in Hollywood. By this stage of the game, he typically was assigned supporting parts. So it's rather nice to see him have a lead role in a picture such as this one. He gives a somewhat grounded performance in a story populated by quirky and memorable western types. Most notable is his interaction with Evelyn Brent, as a gal who catches his eye.

THE LAW WEST OF TOMBSTONE (1938) doesn't play like a standard Hollywood western, either A or B. It's more like what you'd get if you took two short stories based on a colorful, larger-than-life western character and merged them together and made a film out of it. It's much more character-driven than plot-driven. A handful of lively, eccentric characters with wildly varying agendas are thrown on screen together and let loose in a tiny Texas town hoping to see some growth from a new railroad station.

Harry Carey Sr. plays Bill Barker, a tall-tale-spinning westerner with big dreams but little capital. In the opening scene, set in New York in 1881, he rides a carriage at high speed down Broadway and tries to con a Wall Street tycoon who's a little too smart for him. Back in Texas, he finds himself elected mayor of Martinez, thanks to his ability to dazzle a crowd with extemporaneous big talk. He takes a local outlaw under his wing, the Tonto Kid (Tim Holt), and tries to get him to straighten out, especially after the boy takes a liking to a newly arrived young lady who happens to be Barker's daughter, a relationship she has no knowledge of, having been raised to think her father died a hero at Gettysburg. Which is exactly how Barker wants it.

There are Indians, whose movements are manipulated to benefit different factions, and corrupt ranchers seeking to deprive rivals of available water resources. There are dance hall girls whose function is never spelled out but is quite evident nonetheless. Everything happens at its own pace and if you come into this expecting—or demanding—the usual western formula you will allow the film's considerable virtues to fly right over your head.

In the few writings I've seen on this film, much is made of the central characters' resemblance to certain western historical figures, e.g. Judge Roy Bean, Billy the Kid and the Clanton Gang. As someone who's read quite a bit of western history, I find the characters presented here unique enough to stand on their own as memorable fictional figures and the tale, as spun here, more in keeping with folklore than with history.

Harry Carey in one of his last starring westerns takes center stage in The Law West Of Tombstone where after the failure of a big con he tried on Gilded Age millionaire Clarence Kolb in New York City returns west to more familiar surroundings. Carey is a fast draw in a pinch, but like a pair of TV brothers named Maverick prefers to talk his way out of a situation.

He's also got a daughter who knows not that he's her father in Jean Rouverol and a protege of sorts in Tim Holt who prefers more traditional type outlawry than con games. Holt and Carey are at loggerheads most of the film, but they like each other. There's a bunch of outlaws, the McQuinn brothers that nobody has any use for hanging around as well.

A lot of the film seems not to make any sense. I think it's because RKO butchered it in the editing department. Holt and Carey are the show, they have some great scenes together.

I'd like to think that after all is settled in this film Carey took Evelyn Brent back from Clarence Kolb, married her and raised a pair of fine sons named Bret and Bart. He sure could have been their old pappy.

In the usual world of the "B" Western, character and plot are usually fairly straightforward, and one knows after the first ten minutes not only how it will end, but who is going to end up with the girl--if anyone does. In this endearing oddity, your appreciation may depend on your tolerance for eccentricity, whethere it is enjoying that brilliant veteran of so many silent western Harry Carey appearing as the town's benevolent liar, a jolly man who can also lead a crowd, but who is a master of social manipulation. Tim Holt, ostensibly the star and hero, is a sort of moody but well-scrubbed hero, capable of two expressions--one petulant and pouty, and the other agreeable and smiley...there seems to be no room for any kind of thoughtful expression. He and the judge share a love-hate relationship, and into it are thrown all sorts of beloved character actors, whether Ward Bond, bare-chested and speaking with a Mexican-Italian accent, or Charles "Ming" Middleton, lurking at a poker table, sulking. The treatment of the native American tribe is totally insensitive and ludicrous, especially when Carey convinces them to leave the land next to a river for the seashore of sunny California. In short, if you want some reliable old-fashioned Cowboy Action, a la Roy Rogers or Hoppy, this ain't it. But if you want a fast-paced curiosity from the "B" movie that can be a lot of fun in so many ways, this can be a delight!

Well, Fellini didn't direct this one, but at times it sure seems like it. This is one odd-ball movie, with plotlines that appear out of nowhere and disappear into the same place, character motivations David Lynch couldn't understand, and behavior that sometimes suggests that everyone in the film and everyone who made it was hitting the peyote a little too hard. Harry Carey well plays Bill Barker, and one presumes he is the hero of the piece, though he gets enough undisputed disrespect from respectable characters that sometimes it's hard to know whether he's the moral center or just a none-too-bright gasbag. Tim Holt is good as the Tonto Kid, but everyone else is either not very good or is just mired so deep in the confusion that it's not possible to distinguish their talent. It's almost impossible to disentangle the plotlines, although it's fairly clear that one of them involves Barker's attempts to make a good life for the daughter he never knew. The rest of it is pretty much a jumble, and the confrontations between Barker and the McQuinn gang, and in particular a bizarre game of Russian roulette between Barker and the Tonto Kid simply defy rational explanation. And what in the world was Ward Bond doing in this--not WHY was he in it, but WHAT was he doing? He appears to be channelling his John L. Sullivan character from "Gentleman Jim," funnelled through Pancho Villa. But the purpose and intent of the character are just two of the manifold mysteries of this weird little melange. Just about the strangest thing I've ever seen that wasn't meant to be strange.