The Texas Rangers (1936)

In honor of the Texas Rangers making their second World Series appearance in a row (Go Rangers), I look at the epic western “The Texas Rangers.”

Director King Vidor was one of the cinema’s great visual artists. Just think about some of the memorable imagery of “The Big Parade” (1925), “The Crowd” (1928), “Our Daily Bread” (1934) or “The Fountainhead” (1948), among many others.

That visual eye is obvious in “The Texas Rangers” (1936) a big-budget western from Paramount. Vidor, a Texas native, co-wrote the script based, supposedly, on incidents from Texas Rangers history. That history book must have been written by a Hollywood screenwriter as “The Texas Rangers” is pure Hollywood hokum.

But hokum done in the best Hollywood tradition, and I don’t mean to use hokum in a pejorative sense. But was the following really drawn from Texas Rangers history?

A trio of outlaws are robbing stagecoaches in Texas. They are Jim Hawkins (Fred MacMurray), Wahoo Jones (Jack Oakie) and Sam “Polka Dot” McGee (Lloyd Nolan). Before their next holdup, they find out the stagecoach contains a Texas Ranger, a new breed of lawman determined to stamp out lawlessness.

Hawkins and Jones make their way to a Ranger station and enlist with the local Ranger troop, under the command of Major Bailey (Edward Ellis).Of course, the Major has to have a beautiful daughter living with him, Amanda (Jean Parker).

Amanda and Jim take to each other immediately, even though Jim and Wahoo go forward with their plan to send messages to McGee about Ranger plans to stop the bandits. Learning the Rangers plans means McGee can plan other robberies without fear of getting caught.

But the two outlaws eventually learn to like the right side of the law and the comradeship of the Rangers. They stay with the Rangers but McGee, now known as the Polka Dot Bandit due to his polka dot scarf, has a new gang and steps up his campaign of robbing and terrorizing the populace. Guess who gets assigned the case of bringing The Polka Dot Bandit to justice?

A fairly trite story to be sure, but Vidor’s eye is as magnificent as ever. This is no back lot evocation of Texas. Rather Vidor and crew went to New Mexico to film their exteriors and the film’s very lavish action sequences. (In that pre-Internet era, a movie called “The Texas Rangers” could be filmed in New Mexico and not raise a ruckus.)

Vidor does a fine job of framing individual characters against the majestic landscapes, which look like they could swallow a man whole.

The movie is remembered for two sequences. The first is the film’s big action set piece, a terrifically exciting clash between the Rangers and the Apaches. After a fierce fight on the plains, the Apaches cleverly maneuver the surviving Rangers to hide behind some rocks on the sides of the hills. With the Rangers pinned down and surrounded by the Apaches, another group of Apaches above push huge boulders down the hill toward the trapped Rangers. The sound effects here are really impressive, as the rocks sound like giant roaring monsters racing towards the helpless Rangers. (The film earned its sole Oscar nomination for Best Sound).

I can only imagine how many kids were talking about this sequence in school the next day. Major Bailey says something like, “Only an Indian would think of a trick like that”, but I’m sure the kids in the schoolyard were saying, “That was pretty smart strategy on the part of the Indians.”

The other famous scene takes place during a dialogue scene between Nolan and Oakie, where Nolan, feigning friendship and good cheer, pulls a gun out and under the table shoots his friend Oakie in the belly.

The cast can’t be beat. It’s an early role for MacMurray but he already possessed that laid-back charm which made him a favorite with audiences for several decades. Oakie is more subdued than usual, and any movie with Lloyd Nolan in it is an automatic watch. I do prefer him as the hero, or as a good bad man. Here he’s an out and out bad guy.

At the end, MacMurray and Nolan face off in gunfight and chase each other through some rock formations. The sequence looks ahead to Anthony Mann’s famous climaxes in such classics as “Winchester 73” (1950) and “The Naked Spur” (1953). As impressive as some of the Hollywood backlots are, even Hollywood’s ace production designers would be hard pressed to come up with as impressive rock formations and gullies on display here.

Paramount re-made “The Texas Rangers” in Technicolor as “Streets of Laredo” (1949) with William Holden, William Bendix and Macdonald Carey in the MacMurray, Oakie and Nolan roles, respectively. I’ve never seen it, but it’s generally considered an inferior remake. Still, its one of those maddeningly elusive Paramount titles I hope turns up on TCM.

“The Texas Rangers” was a big hit with 1936 audiences, though not as big as Paramount’s other “A” western that year, DeMille’s “The Plainsman” with Gary Cooper as Wild Bill Hickok and Jean Arthur as the loveliest Calamity Jane imaginable. But I think the Rangers trumps the DeMille, since DeMille’s film features too many action scenes shot on soundstages. Looking at the two, the Vidor is, visually, by far the more spectacular.

“A” westerns were not really common in the 1930s. There were a few, but not many. Universal lost a small fortune with “Sutter’s Gold” (1936) and M-G-M and William Wellman delivered a rather ho-hum “Robin Hood of El Dorado” (1936). (Wow, 1936 was quite the year for big budget westerns).

Paramount delivered another “A” western the following year with “Wells Fargo” with Joel McCrea and Frances Dee. I’ve never seen that one but always wanted to.

It would take the magic movie year of 1939 for the major studios, by some form of cinematic mental telepathy, to release a remarkable series of big budget westerns to critical and commercial success. Warner Bros. gave us “Dodge City” and “The Oklahoma Kid”; Universal happily gave the world “Destry Rides Again”; Paramount rode the rails of success with DeMille’s “Union Pacific”; 20th Century Fox delivered the biggest hit of them all in “Jesse James” with Tyrone Power and Henry Fonda. Even Poverty Row studio Republic Pictures delivered a very respectable and fairly expensive film about Sam Houston called “Man of Conquest.” The adult western would come to fruition that year with John Ford’s classic “Stagecoach.”

These films carried the western as a reputable and profitable genre for decades to follow.

“The Texas Rangers” is available on DVD in a beautiful transfer in a four pack of westerns including “Canyon Passage” (1946) with Dana Andrews and Susan Hayward; Raoul Walsh’s “The Lawless Breed” (1953) with Rock Hudson and Julia Adams; and “Kansas Raiders” (1950) with Audie Murphy and Brian Donlevy. I purchased it for $5 at Big Lots.

And for what it’s worth, I’m picking the Rangers over the Cardinals in six games.

Maid of Salem

Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray were a very popular screen team in Hollywood’s Golden Era. They’re not as remembered as other classic screen teams, mainly because their films have not been so readily available. Almost all their films were made at Paramount, which of all the major studios, is least represented on DVD and video, and television showings were even rarer (unless its a DeMille, Preston Sturges, Marx Bros. or W.C. Fields title). You always had to hunt for Paramount oldies.

I can remember a short period in the 1970s when Channel 44, a UHF station in Chicago, showed sub par prints of movies like Alan Ladd in “Beyond Glory” (1948) and “Chicago Deadline” (1949), and yes, Colbert and MacMurray in “The Gilded Lily” (1935). They were screened once or twice before retreating into the vaults, never to be seen again. Even with the advent of home video and cable TV, many of these titles remain elusive.

Colbert and MacMurray appeared in seven movies together between 1935 and 1949. All are in the comedy or romantic comedy genre save for one, “Maid of Salem” (1937) a highly fictionalized, though engrossing, look at the Salem witch trials.

Every stern-faced extra in Hollywood was called on to portray Salem’s villagers, self-righteous Puritans who see satanic activity in every act of kindness or every smile. When Colbert’s character enjoys a nighttime rendezvous with a man in a dark cloak, the spying villagers automatically assume its Satan himself, roaming the countryside at night and trying to corrupt every God-fearing creature in sight. (Note: it’s really secret sweetheart Fred MacMurray).

No individuality is allowed in dour Salem. Colbert is called out at Sunday services for daring to wear a colorful, frilly bonnet. Director Frank Lloyd creates some interesting lighting effect here, with Colbert ablaze with light amid her fellow Puritans. In that church scene, she’s lit like Mary in “The Song of Bernadette” (1943).

“Maid of Salem” is best appreciated for its wonderful Who’s Who roster of character actors. We enjoy ripe performances by the likes of Gale Sondergaard (an ideal, repressed Puritan), Edward Ellis, Beulah Bondi, Donald Meek, E.E. Clive, Halliwell Hobbes and Russell Simpson. Sorely missed is Charles Middleton, who was born to play a stern-visaged Puritan. I wonder why he isn’t here. We also get future Bowery Boy Bennie Bartlett, Virginia Weidler and Bonita Granville.

One of the most underrated performances from that era is Bonita Granville in “These Three” (1936), as a truly horrendous brat whose hateful gossip causes irreparable harm to three people. So good was she that she pretty much repeated the same performance a year later in “Maid of Salem” as one of the young Salem girls who fake attacks of possession and other maladies to draw attention to themselves (and to stave off boredom, no doubt).

I like both Colbert and MacMurray but they’re actually the least effective part of the movie. While both had played period before, here they seem too modern, though Colbert does make the loveliest Puritan, even when facing hanging as a witch. MacMurray overacts throughout, something long time viewers of “My Three Sons” would find unimaginable.

The film’s best performance is by Madame Sul-Te-Wan as the slave Tituba, who thinks her fortune telling activities are harmless until witch hysteria sweeps Salem. She has an unforgettable scene where she can see where her interrogation is headed, starts panicking and, wild-eyed, begins naming every name she can think of.

Director Frank Lloyd is somewhat forgotten today. I wonder if there’s some resentment at his winning the Best Director Oscar in 1933 for “Cavalcade”, a Best Picture winner that is considered one of Oscar’s most ignoble. Lack of availability of much of his work doesn’t help, though his work on the magnificent sea epic “Mutiny on the Bounty” (1935) should always be treasured.

Also worth mentioning is the production design of the film, with its recreation of Salem. Hans Drier, Paramount’s ace designer, provided a wonderful village setting. It must have cost Paramount a pretty penny, as they probably thought not much use would be gotten out of it after filming was over. Movies about colonial America rarely fared well, so Hollywood was loath to make them.

“Maid of Salem” remains a worthy effort, especially considering it was produced under the watchful eye of the Hays Office. According to the Production Code, religion and religious figures should not be portrayed in a negative light. Well that’s out the window with this film, as it suggests that the repression of the Puritans and their church-based society was largely responsible for the doings at Salem.

Postscript: Speak of the devil. Just hours after I posted this, I read that the new DVD collection under the TCM Vault Series will be titled Colbert & MacMurray Romance Collection. Due on November 15, the collection will include the aforementioned "The Gilded Lily" (1935), "The Bride Comes Home" (1935) and "Family Honeymoon" (1949).