Gewehre zum Apachen-Paß

40 Guns to Apache Pass is directed by William Witney and written by Willard and Mary Willingham. It stars Audie Murphy and Kenneth Tobey. Music is by Richard LaShelle and Jaques R. Marquette photographs it in Pathe Color with location work coming at Lovejoy Buttes, Red Rock Canyon and North Ranch in California.

The Apaches, led by Cochise (Michael Keep), are on the warpath and vowing to kill all whites they come across. Captain Bruce Coburn (Murphy) is in charge of leading homesteaders out of harms way. But there is unrest in the band of men under his charge and mutiny is afoot.

This was the last but one film Murphy made before retiring, you feel that he hoped this would be a fitting swan song to his career. It wasn't. Saddled with a weak script and surrounded by wooden supporting actors, Murphy alone can't make this lacklustre, cliché riddled, Western work. There's some nice scenery shot by Witney and Marquette, but with LaShelle scoring it like an episode of Scooby Doo the impact is lost. It would be easy to blame director Witney, a man more than capable of stringing together an action based movie, but asking him to try and make this particular screenplay stretch to over an hour and half was asking for the impossible.

3/10 for Murphy's manful efforts to carry such a low-budget, routine and forgettable piece.

Audie Murphy plays a tough, by-the-book Cavalry officer in Apache territory who's hard on his men. He's sent to pick up 40 automatic rifles and bring them back to the fort, but he runs into difficulties (of course). This is one of those very routine minor movies that Murphy kept turning up in after the end of his Universal contract. The "fort" is a one-rail corral; the soldiers are colorless, minor character actors--with one exception (see below). Distances shrink and enlarge at the whim of the plot (sometimes the action takes place a couple of days from the fort, then it's an hour's ride). The locations are overly familiar--a couple of day's shooting in Red Rock Canyon, a couple of days probably in the Owens Valley, and a couple more in rolling California hills. But--and it's a big one--Bodine, the antagonist, is played by the reliable Kenneth Tobey. As always, he gives it his all--turning this minor role into a distinct, peculiarly likable heavy. He's wry, vindictive, amusing, and--unusually for a Western where most of the good guys are former Confederates (unless the name "Quantrill" is evoked)--he fought for the South, but he's a bad guy.

40 GUNS TO APACHE PASS (1966) was the last starring western for war hero-turned-western star Audie Murphy, who had ended his fruitful 15-year association with Universal Pictures the previous year. Released by Columbia Pictures, it turned out to be an unfitting send-off, undercut by an extremely low budget, a talky script, and an undistinguished no-name cast (aside from Murphy and screen vet Kenneth Tobey).

The plot might have made a good western had it been accorded a bigger budget and a stronger cast. A beleaguered Arizona cavalry division harassed by Cochise and his Apache warriors is expecting a shipment of repeating rifles, which could mean the difference between life and death for Apache Wells, an outpost housing the army and surviving settlers. The weapons become the object of less-than-intense conflict involving the Cavalry, the Indians and, later, a renegade group of army deserters. Murphy plays Captain Coburn, a no-nonsense type who romances a settler's daughter (Laraine Stephens) and agrees to take her two younger brothers (Michael Blodgett, Michael Burns) into the undermanned regiment after their father is killed in an attack. A display of cowardice by the youngest brother (Burns) has dire consequences, resulting in a meandering subplot requiring his redemption.

The production values here are far less polished than one would find in a typical TV western of the time, such as "Wagon Train" or "The Virginian." The no-name performers overact and are given reams of unnecessary dialogue in order to pad out the film's running time. Frequent narration tells us things we can see for ourselves. Most of the film was shot at ordinary-looking Southern California ranch locations. All this is especially disappointing given the participation of director William Witney, a one-time action specialist at Republic Pictures, who'd been directing for 30 years at this point.

Things pick up, however, in the film's final third when Corporal Bodine (Kenneth Tobey), a vengeful ex-sergeant with a grudge against Murphy, decides he has other plans for the 40 rifles and convinces four of the remaining soldiers from the escort to accompany him. Murphy, who'd been left for dead, has to get the rifles back while Burns, the cowardly brother, has to prove himself a man. This section of the film was shot in more remote California locations which actually pass for Arizona and features a larger band of Apaches on the prowl as Murphy undertakes a holding action, guarding a pass alone with a stack of fully loaded repeating rifles. Director Witney's considerable expertise kicks in during this stretch and gives a hint of what might have been. Composer Richard LaSalle pumps things up with a rousing, if clichéd, score

Audie Murphy only appeared in two more films, both little-seen. First was the international thriller, TRUNK TO CAIRO (1966), directed by future Cannon Films mogul Menahem Golan, while his final film was the Budd Boetticher western, A TIME FOR DYING (1969), which Murphy produced and appeared in briefly as Jesse James.

I have ridden horses all my life and when you are out in the middle of nowhere and dismount, the last thing you do is turn your horse loose, you tie them up. In this movie, several times, people just dismount and leave the horse to wonder off. REALLY! How stupid! Gee, it's only thirty eight miles back to the fort, I don't have any water or food so I think I'll just turn O'l Buck loose. How unrealistic.

It's a good thing they're making a movie and the horses get breaks along with the actors or they would keel over dead from all that running. And after all that running, they don't sweat. Strange too they can be ridden all day and never seem to need to eat. Or poop.

Guns are LOUD. Yet no one ever flinches or even reacts to the noise. And rifles are discharged just inches from horse's heads and they don't even react. Either the horses are completely deaf, or those runs are really quiet.

I could go on. I can never understand why a movie producer or director will go to all the trouble and spend mucho dollars and end up with a film with so many obvious errors.

Murphy does all the right things but they are the same heroics and " it's okay I'm just shot in the chest so I ain't gonna flinch" routine as westerns had ten and twenty years before. It's hard to believe this film was made in the era of the American Indian movement and the Beatles etc. This film also reminds me of why the western faded. The Indians here are simple ciphers. They are portrayed as mindless " hostiles" and the western clichés are trotted out. The" whites" are heroics defenders, the Indians are savages. 1967 was far too late for that to play any more. I laughed when the opening line was " there were only a few brave men stopping the whole Territory of Arizona being overrun".they meant of course a few brave settlers from the east. But it struck me as odd that in 67 the line was not in any way used for irony. The few brave men were in fact Indians defending their community and the overrunning was being done by " whites". Overall it's workmanlike effort but nothing really distinguished this film from any production line western from the 50's. Murphy seems tired but competent and remarkably well preserved for a WWII veteran.