Under a Texas Moon

Frank Fay plays a Mexican gentleman in South Texas who takes up the task of searching for cattle rustlers, but spends more time romancing various young ladies. The plot is lightweight and played for laughs.

There are some musical numbers and and a bit of dancing.

Supposedly the first two color Technicolor western. The restored print has nice colors, which shows off the costumes well.

This film premiered on 1st April 1930. The first sound Western in color. It survives as a single nitrate Technicolor print, faithfully copied by UCLA. The story of cattle rustling has a clever twist and the whole film greatly benefits from a lightweight approach. It opens in spectacular fashion. Frank Fay and his two followers ride into a small town Fiesta. Every possible shade of rose and sage green is flashed at the camera. Location filming richly enhances the photography. Typical Michael Curtiz direction brings arty shots of trees in shadow and an impressive location tracking shot for the finale. One single song is the theme tune of the film and becomes a motif for the film in a quite unexpected way. Some pre-code scenes involve a nude swimming scene and some adult references. It is a deliberately slow paced film, but the Technicolor gives the film a rich and glowing look. The whites are pearly, the reds rich and earthy, lending gorgeous close-ups of sun tanned female cast members. Fay is a forgotten star today, but his style has not dated because he treats the film partly as fun, which it is. A great pity that the film has been little seen (apart from infrequent archive screenings). It deserves a DVD release).

You always hear critics complaining about how bad modern movies have become. They will lament the coming of every latest big-budget Hollywood product. But when they start talking about the classics and the fact that older films had so much more merit, they should be required to sit through Michael Curtiz's 'Under a Texas Moon', a film from 1930 that proves there were always big-budget Hollywood stinkers.

Though the movie looks great in its restored Technicolor condition, that's probably the only positive aspect I can recommend. Frank Fay is one of the most smug and repugnant screen presences I have ever witnessed. His exaggerated accent and constant mugging become repulsive as the movie goes on. I was not surprised to learn that this Vaudeville comedian's film career never took off (The fact that this man was married to Barbara Stanwyck is not a wholesome thought.) Fay plays a wrangler who comes to a village to help capture some cowboys who've wrastled a local farmer's cattle. He romances women along the way (including a young Mirna Loy), complete with guitar playing mariachis. The ending has a twist that is unsatisfying and defies common sense. Much of the editing is incoherent, and there is at least one scene involving a bathing beauty that makes absolutely no sense. The comedy is corny and shameless, even for 1930.

Thankfully, this a fairly obscure film in Curtiz's filmography. Am I glad I saw it? Perhaps, but it is only a confirmation that useless Hollywood drivel has always been around.