L'homme du Nevada

"The Nevadan" is a standard but enjoyable Western with that ever-dependable icon Randolph Scott in the lead role. He plays a mysterious loner who bends over backwards to assist an outlaw (Forrest Tucker), who's hidden a large amount of stolen gold. The trouble is that Tucker isn't the only person out there who wants to get to this stash; other pathologically greedy types want to claim it as well. The main nemesis is a rancher (George Macready) who also owns the nearby town, lock, stock, and barrel. And the rancher has a variety of henchmen (Frank Faylen, Jeff Corey, Jock Mahoney) to help him out. Conveniently, Macready also has a lovely daughter (a radiant Dorothy Malone) who takes a shine to our tight-lipped hero.

Although "The Nevadan" holds absolutely no surprises, it makes for generally agreeable entertainment, complete with an interesting protagonist role for Scott and some appropriately odious bad guys. (Faylen and Corey are a standout as they bicker while carrying out Macready's wishes.) The scenery is quite nice, the Arthur Morton score is effective, and the action well-executed. The director is the capable journeyman filmmaker Gordon Douglas; although no master stylist, he knew how to craft a good film. The giant-ant classic "Them!" is one of his best. Best of all is the finale, divided into two parts: a shootout among some rocks, and an intense fight sequence (with Mahoney doubling for Scott) inside an abandoned mine. The interplay between the irascible outlaw and the oft-smiling, amiable loner helps to create enough chemistry to keep us engaged until the end.

As I already said, this is plenty predictable, but formula tales do have their place in cinema along with the more unconventional ones.

Seven out of 10.

In an era of overbearing deep, so deep, psychological westerns, it's nice to know Hollywood still knew how to put together these shoot 'em ups. This A-grade production with the very good direction by Gordon Douglas behind it is not much, if not entertaining. Randolph Scott who was to begin an era of a-b grade westerns and make some so-called classic westerns with Budd Boetticher shows his interpretation of the gun-man with few words that he would use effectively later on to good effect. The plot has something to do with Scott being an Undercover marshall, gold and yes, bad guys who need to be gunned down. Anyway, it's all a mcguffin for a final sequence in a mine shaft that is breath-taking. Nice entertainment, at the least.

Escaped outlaw Forrest Tucker stops a stranger following him. The stranger is Randolph Scott dressed up like a greenhorn. For no good reason, Tucker decides he needs a partner and Scott fits the bill. This is the kind of plot contrivance you just have to accept from a western like this, a programmer if there ever was one. Naturally, Scott isn't who he says he is. He just wanted to fool Tucker into taking him along so he could find where Tucker hid some gold. There's also an evil rancher, George Macready, who has a pretty daughter. The daughter's played by Dorothy Malone. Of course she and Scott fall for one another. It's all serviceable enough but nothing special. If you've seen enough westerns, all of this movie's pieces will seem familiar. Still, it's a Randolph Scott western. There are far worse ways to pass the time.

Unexceptional Westerns like this one almost always followed certain well-worn conventions. A few clips on the jaw and a man was unconscious. Men wore nondescript generic Western clothing, usually including a vest. The capo may have a string tie, possibly a suit, but most of the men wore neckerchiefs which were never used, as well as guns, which were. The girl friend was pure, although maybe mixed up. There was little in the way of character development and motivations were usually simple, as Galt's is here -- "gold fever", someone calls it. They were usually shot at a studio ranch or at Lone Pine or, as in this case, in both.

Later in the 1950s ambitious directors like Anthony Mann introduced some life into the increasingly tired comic-book stories by giving us heroes who were neurotic and subsidiary characters with complicated motives. Other directors simply gave up trying and turned the cartoon into a parody, like one of those Steig cartoons in which a hand is seen drawing itself. Budd Boetticher was a director who gave up and reveled in the primitivism of the form.

That's when Randolph Scott made the Westerns he's best known for, like "Ride Lonesome." Great title there. Scott's character was reduced to a prig, as morally upright as a gastropod on its poduncle, always putting temptation behind him, never telling a lie, rejecting offers of warmth and comfort from women -- a total bore, in other words.

"The Nevadan" had the same producers as the later Boetticher films but Scott's character hadn't quite hardened into the inflexible clunk yet. He smiles here. He fibs too. He only shoots one guy, and not by outdrawing him either. It's an improvement over his later persona. But the villains aren't. Boetticher's villains were great -- Lee Marvin, Richard Boone, Pernell Roberts, James Coburn. The heavies here are not nearly as much fun. How can anyone take George MacReady seriously as a Western head heavy? He belongs in a corporation as part of a conspiracy. Faylen still sounds like the taxi driver in "Dark Passage." Ray Corey is supposed to have been a well-regarded drama teacher later on, and he gave a flawless performance in "In Cold Blood," but he brings nothing to the party here as a dull-witted joke. But the woman, Dorothy Malone, has never looked better, fresh faced, young, and innocent, as MacReady's daughter. Hollywood had a habit of glamorizing her to the point of unrecognizability. They gave her glossy hairdos, slick lips, two tons of pancake or waffle makeup, and false eyelashes the size of those canvas tarps you put up as extensions of your mobile home. She's a surprise. Nobody else in this movie is.

But it's also worth mentioning Jock Mahoney as "Sandy," one of the bad guys. He was as homely as they come, but the man's physical presence was magnetic. I'm sure he didn't deliberately try for the effect but every swift movement was as graceful as a dancer's, the opposite of John Wayne who seemed to move by putting one or two limbs in motion and letting his torso follow them sometime later on. One example: watch the scene in which Malone gives Mahoney's horse a kick in the hindquarters and Mahoney finds himself splashing down into a creek, then spins the horse around and climbs the bank as if man and animal were one being, just as the Aztecs thought.

For Randolph Scott, the 1950s started with the Columbia film The Nevadan, co-starring Forrest Tucker, George Macready and Dorothy Malone. Scott and Tucker have a marvelous give-and-take relationship that anticipates the rivalries to come in the Boetticher films. Frank Faylen and Jeff Corey give colorful performances as henchmen who are brothers, and have a rivalry of their own. Jock Mahoney has a small role, and doubles for Scott in the fight scene at the end. Only the cheap Cinecolor process betrays the slight budget, excellent direction by the unsung Gordon Douglas.