Sturm über Texas

While the eye-catching poster promises "Iron Hooked Fury!" and pitting a harpoon against a six-gun, the curiously forgotten B-movie western Terror in a Texas Town, directed by Joseph H. Lewis, is a positively downbeat little movie. Starting with a handsome, square- jawed hero walking into battle with a clad-in-black gunslinger, it appears at first glance that we are on familiar ground. But the film then flashes back, and all the western tropes we had been expecting are subtly subverted, similar in many ways to Nicholas Ray's groundbreaking masterpiece Johnny Guitar four years previous. The screenwriter is credited as Ben Perry - a name you'll likely be unfamiliar with. Yet this was in fact a front for Dalton Trumbo, the great Oscar-winning writer who was then under scrutiny from Senator McCarthy and blacklisted from Hollywood. With this knowledge, the oddness of Terror in a Texas Town suddenly makes sense.

In the - you guessed it - small Texas town of Prairie City, the hard-working farmers earning little from their land are struggling to fight off the advances of the unscrupulous land baron McNeil (Sebastian Cabot), who is using his wealth and influence to buy up the whole area for reasons not immediately clear. Some of the townsfolk are playing hard-ball, refusing to give their homes and livelihood to a man they never see. So McNeil brings in tough-as- nails gunslinger Johnny Crale (an outstanding Nedrick Young), a broken career-criminal who is happy to caress his pistol whenever a deal doesn't go his way. He murders Swede Sven Hansen (Ted Stanhope) when he refuses to sign a contract. A day later, his sailor son George (Sterling Hayden) arrives to greet the father he hasn't seen in over a decade, only the learn of his murder and that the land left to him is now the property of a greedy businessman.

It quickly becomes clear that the hero-versus-villain showdown the opening scene promised us will be nothing like we expected. The dashing American hero is in fact an immigrant without the skills of a quick-draw or the wits to take on McNeil on his own, and the black leather-donning Crale may just be in the midst of developing a conscience after years of killing and the loss of his gun hand. What makes Terror in a Texas Town so interesting is the way it merely hints at the two central characters' personalities and past, leaving these could-be archetypes as intriguing enigmas. Trumbo makes a point of highlighting the ranchers' ignorance of McNeil's Machiavellian role in the events, choosing instead to focus their hatred on the muscle. It isn't difficult to imagine that Trumbo's exile and unforgivable treatment at the hands of his own country didn't influence this apparently off-the-conveyor-belt B-picture. It has been unfairly forgotten by the decades, but Terror in a Texas Town is ripe for re-discovery as one of the strangest and most compelling westerns American has ever produced.

Joseph H. Lewis was something of a B movie king, with his best directorial efforts coming via Westerns and film noir. After this Sterling Hayden starrer he signed off from Hollywood for good, as a legacy it's difficult to say if it's a fitting point of reference to Lewis and his talents, or entirely apt for his career? It's an often quirky, even bizarre, picture that manages through its surreal like tendencies to detract from its formulaic Western plot.

Set in Prairie City, Texas, the tale revolves around George Hanson (Hayden), a Swedish whaler who after 19 years away, returns to Prairie to find his father has been murdered. As he delves deeper with a staunch undaunted determination, he finds that the law is corrupt and a horrible land baron called McNeil (Sebastian Cabot), aided by gunslinger for hire Johnny Crale (Ned Young), is behind his fathers death. It appears there is oil in the land and McNeil is using force to buy up the land at ridiculously cheap prices. But if he thought George was going to be forgiving? Or going to be easily frightened? Well he and Crale are in for some big shocks.

Shot in stark black and white, Lewis' film throws up the always interesting conflict between homespun virtue and greedy evil. There's compelling villains and some nicely drawn characterisations for the decent citizens of the town, such as those who are on the periphery of the protagonists struggle (note Victor Millan's poor Mexican farmer and Carol Kelly's downbeat girlfriend of Crale).

What of Hayden, though? It's a fascinating performance, where saddled with the task of trying to do a Swedish accent, and wearing a suit a size too short for him, it's difficult to know if he is in tune with the off-kilter nature of the film, or he's just on robotic auto- pilot while Lewis chuckles to himself off camera. Either way Hayden gives us a character to root for with our every breath. Hanson is a bastion of good and well meaning, we ache for him to outdo the lobster eating land baron and the metal clawed outlaw.

There's some controversy in the tid-bids here. The script was credited to Ben Perry, but actually was written by Dalton Trumbo who was blacklisted. Hayden, although not blacklisted, appeared before the House of Un-American Activities Committee and simultaneously admitted past communist affiliations and named names. Lewis was not involved in the unsavoury chapter but was a close friend of Ned Young, who was blacklisted for taking the fifth, but whose impact on the film was to not only be in it, but to also be instrumental in getting Lewis to direct it. Boy was that an interesting time in American history.

Stylish, odd and certainly different, Terror In A Texas Town has enough about it to make it worthy of a night in. And it gets better on repeat viewings once you buy into the kookiness. 7.5/10

When people discuss the Western in the 50s, the richest decade of the genre, they invariably cite Anthony Mann, Budd Boetticher, THE SEARCHERS or RIO BRAVO . Only the specialised, however, will single out Joseph H. Lewis. A LAWLESS STREET electrifies a banal story with inventive technique. TERROR, though, is something else. I have watched hundreds of Westerns, and I can safely say that this is the most remarkable pre-Peckinpah/Leone effort I've seen. It may not be as rich as the above-mentioned, but its formal daring is unparalleled.

Like Mann, Lewis came to the Manichean world of the Western from film noir, a genre defined by its moral ambiguity. The opening sequence is the most astonishing of any Western (except THE WILD BUNCH, of course), and cleverly complicates everything that follows. It starts with the shoot-out, an innovative device, but one of the combatants carries a large pike. His opponent, face unseen, taunts him. The scene is highly charged, even if we don't know why.

The result of this sequence is cut, and we get the opening credits, featuring an elliptical series of scenes, some lyrically pastoral, others brutally violent, none making any narrative sense because we don't know the story yet. The film proper hurtles us into a violent arson attack. So in the first five minutes, the viewer is assaulted by sensation and violence. There are none of the reassuring signifiers of the traditional Western - noble music (the score here is as bizarre, inventive and parodic as any Morricone spaghetti); John Wayne or Henry Fonda above the title; contextually explanatory intertitles. We have no idea what is going on, we are left staggered, breathless, excited, reeling.

What follows is an explanation of these events. But the unforgettable effect lingers, and colours what seems to be a traditional Western story - big business trying to muscle in on small farmers. The most interesting figure is not the hero, Sterling Hayden, a gentle man forced by circumstance to find savage violence in himself (and saddled with a ridiculous, faltering Swedish accent, but little character), but the villain. In many ways he is the archetypal baddie - dressed in black, a gun for hire, snarling, brutal with women. But he is also a complex psychological portrait - a once great shot, now a cripple, lush and impotent. The familiar story is subverted to become the tragedy of an evil man. The film's surface detective element - who killed Hayden's father - is subsumed thematically by the investigation into this fascinating character (we know early on who killed him anyway).

Stylistically, Lewis turns the Western, traditionally about open spaces, new frontiers, hope, escape, into a bitter male melodrama about entrapment, failure and death. The stark, clear visuals are as beautiful and aesthetically exciting as THE OX-BOW INCIDENT, another morbid masterpiece. The disturbing editing, and exagerrated compositions seem to belong more to Nouvelle Vague deconstructions than a Hollywood Western. Almost as awesome as GUN CRAZY, this is provocative proof that Lewis was a great director.

A bizarre, intense, frightening unsung masterpiece filled with original and compelling characters. It's hard to tell what the main interest is: the Swedish hero; the leather-clad Bogie-inspired villain; the brave young Mexican; the callous, quick-tongued fatcat. The cinematography is stylized yet subtle. The dialogue is trenchant. Then, of course, there is the unnerving harpoon showdown. There is no movie quite like this one, folks. A must-see.

There's a lot more to this little Western than the cheap thrills the title might suggest. The film itself may have been made in black and white, but the off-beat story is shot through with shades of moral grey. Indeed, I'm not sure that it would be entirely baseless to describe it as an implicit indictment of US society.

This picture uses familiar Western stereotypes - the corrupt sheriff, the land-greedy tycoon, the sinister hired gun - in a depiction that subtly undercuts much of the entire genre. I don't think it's too far-fetched to see the long shadow of McCarthy over the townspeople who allow themselves to be cowed and driven off one at a time, only to turn at last as a mob not on the man who bribed their silence, but on the outsider employed as a tool to do his dirty work.

(Having just read the IMDB entry for this film and discovered that the scriptwriter was himself blacklisted by the McCarthy regime, I'm now almost certain I was not imagining this!)

The whole story is framed by that final confrontation and the flashbacks (?flash-forwards?) that follow under the opening titles. After all, it's not every Western that features a man walking the length of Main Street to face down his father's killer... with a harpoon. This one *opens* with that image!

But as we catch up with the flash-back scenes in real-time we soon realise that things are not as they seem. This is no standard Western, there are no stand-up gunfights and no galloping horses; the only quick-draw we see is performed under duress as a humiliating party-trick. Virtue is not rewarded and those who make a stand on principle only suffer thereby. The hired killer is an aging gunman whose trade has lost him the use of his good right hand; the dogged hero is no cowboy or plains drifter but a seaman from a Swedish whaler, and the script makes it very clear just what value he can place on American justice.

Inexorably, driven by the sinister jaunty little tune of the theme music, the story winds on until we reach again that final face-down - and now the close-ups make sense, and they are not what we thought they were. That man with the moustache is not the sheriff; that blonde is not the hero's girl; the crowd is not spilling out of a saloon.

And it is not any longer, for me at least, the clear-cut question of good and evil the genre has led us to expect. When it is all over - when the shots are called and the dice are down - the crowd pours past the Swede without a backward glance. Society doesn't want to know; doesn't want to face its own complicity. It wants a scapegoat to sacrifice, and for life to go on.

Morally, this film is very far from black and white. If it is a B-movie, then it is by far more unsettling than the vast majority of cheap and cheerful productions made in that budget. I cannot imagine what its intended audience must have made of it. Am I the only viewer to find myself drawn as much to the cold-blooded, isolated 'villain' as to the nominal hero?