Fighting to Live

The nominal star of Fighting To Live takes a back seat in this production. Reb Russell plays of all things a mailman who drives a flivver on his rural appointed rounds. The story here is a love triangle that has heavy consequences on a pair of dogs.

Marion Schilling is the unwanted object of the attentions of Eddie Phillips and when he gets fresh her trusty dogs attack her. She'd rather have the attentions of the newcomer in town lawyer Steve Pendleton.

Later on Phillips captures the dogs and let's them out on the desert to starve. The female gives birth to pups and the male dog tries to provide for his family by stealing chickens from the neighboring farms.

But despite his recently acquired fear of humans he saves Steve Pendleton from drowning. And Pendleton insists on a trial before these dogs are killed.

Our nominal hero only comes in prominently in the end to capture one of the dogs when they escape. Otherwise it's the supporting cast that does the heavy lifting.

Fighting To Live is an independent production with a budget I'm not sure could have broken five figures. There were a gazillion fly by night studios that were making westerns because they were shot outdoors at this time.

This might have rated a couple notches higher had a big studio done this story. As it is the story went to the dogs.

When Eddie Phillips gets too handsy with Marion Shilling, police dogs Captain and Lady try to take a hunk out of him. In revenge, he muzzles them, takes them out to the middle of the desert, and leaves them to die. But they don't. Lady gets caught in a coyote trap and gives birth. Captain supports his family by stealing chickens. He also saves attorney Steve Pendleton from drowning. Eventually, Phillips captures Captain and is about to shoot him for the reward that has gone up, but Pendleton insists on a jury trial.

Let's have a couple of hisses for Phillips. Someone said that Hollywood was a great ocean of profitable B westerns, with a thin layer of unprofitable A pictures. There's something in that, if you add short comedies to the B westerns. Eddie Cline is best remembered for directing Buster Keaton's early short classics. Here, he's directing a B western with an unlikely premise, awful production values, and some fine comedy bits, from Lloyd Ingraham as a judge grumbling that he'd rather be fishing, to Bruce Mitchell as his fast-talking bailiff.

No one will ever mistake this as a great movie, or even a particularly good one. But the comedy bits are quite funny, which is what you'd expect from Cline.