The Big Gusher

In this modest programmer B film, Wayne Morris and Preston Foster play a couple of oil roughnecks who each has a weakness that usually involves spending their hard earned money right after a pay day. With Foster its booze, over two drinks and he gets reckless and with Morris it's women, he'll blow all his money on a fling with a pretty one.

The Big Gusher has Foster going both ways, getting drunk twice and first spending his money on a worthless oil lease and then later when it might not be so worthless taking in waitress Dorothy Patrick as a partner and also getting equipment from the guy who sold him the lease in the first place Emmett Vogan on a sixty delivery deal.

When Patrick goes out to the camp to live with the boys the usual love triangle takes place. You'll have to see the film to see who she winds up with.

The film's real star is character actor Paul E. Burns who uses a divining rod to tell where there's oil, water, or anything you're searching for. The science is certainly a dubious one, but Burns steals all the scenes he's in with those deadpan expressions.

Wayne Morris after war service ended his contract with Warner Brothers and was now freelancing. I wouldn't be surprised if along with him came some of the background footage of Flowing Gold, the Pat O'Brien-John Garfield classic from a decade earlier. Some of the background might even have come from Boom Town from MGM.

The leads are good enough, but no one is ever going to mistake this one for the classic with Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy.

About the only reason to catch this dinosaur is to scope out that staple of the neighborhood theater – the cheap second-feature, then on the edge of extinction. Its like would soon migrate to those little screens spreading across living rooms everywhere. Similarly, director Landers would move over to TV, along with the 50-year old Foster, while the 40-year old Morris would soldier on in matinée Westerns for several more years. Then too, the plot has to be one of the hoariest in an industry that thrives on retreads, as two roughneck pals fight over the same girl. You know, the sort of thing Warner Bros. did ad-infinitum in the 1930's.

Despite these obvious drawbacks, the movie stands as an example of Hollywood professionalism, even at this, the sparest of levels. Take the oil well special effects. Try as I did, I couldn't spot the seams between the real stock footage and the studio effects. It's a first-rate blend, at least in my little book. Or take the two male leads. For a couple of aging, second-tier stars going nowhere in their careers, Morris and Preston could have walked through their roles. But they don't. Instead, each gives a lively effort as though this were a big-budget Boom Town (1940). Or take director Landers. No one would confuse him with a Welles or a Ford, or even a Walsh or a Hathaway. But this is a very smooth, well-paced effort, bespeaking a high degree of craftsmanship even at this, the most obscure of Hollywood levels. Sure, you've seen it all before, no surprises. Yet, the professionalism remains, a fitting tribute to a vanishing breed.

There's nothing much that's wrong with this story of wildcatters trying to bring in a well, but it's never particularly engrossing, despite some real talent, including William Whitely, one of Columbia's great B cinematographers who never got a chance to do much in the movies, but went into TV and picked up a bunch of awards for his work on BONANZA. He offers an assortment of standard but well-shot compositions.

But given the sort of movie which used to star Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable, male leads Wayne Morris and Preston Foster seem to be barely in the same movie. Dorothy Patrick is OK as the female lead and Paul E. Burns is excellent as the crackpot dowser.

But the whole piece has been done many times before, often with better talent and definitely with better scripts. Unless you are a great fan of any of the talent involved, skip this one.