BAD WESTERNS

BAD WESTERNS

A couple of friends with whom I routinely exchange opinions and commentary, mostly no more serious than whimsical badinage, will occasionally stimulate a brain cell which has been tucked so far into my mental recesses as to deny access for decades. Such a random strike occurred recently while reading one such message about bad Westerns in general and Johnny Guitar in particular. 

Those of us who grew up before TV numbed the world — and seductively lobotomized youthful imagination — managed to entertain ourselves by conjuring up our own images of people, events and situations, whether alone or at play with family and friends. Back then my own pre-pubescent imagination was probably a little overactive from the beginning, but it went into overdrive when I first heard about a new Western movie in town with the intriguing title, Johnny Guitar. 

Previously, I had never really given much thought to the titles of Western movies, concentrating instead on the name of the star, be it Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Allen “Rocky” Lane, Johnny Mack Brown, Rex Allen, Bob Steele, or whomever. Knowing the star pretty much told you all you needed to know about the content of the movie; and the movie titles – usually containing the name of a location, such as “Canyon”, “River,” or “City,” or the name of the local law enforcement officer, such as “Marshall,” “Sheriff,” or “Deputy” of this place or that — were rather meaningless as a purveyor of any worthwhile information about the film.  But Johnny Guitar! What a provocative title. I busily outlined several possible fantasy story lines for the movie before ever getting near the movie house or even seeing a trailer for the film. It even felt good just saying the name out loud. Yeah, I figured, Johnny Guitar was probably a really tough hombre, but with a soul attuned to music; a man who lived a life of danger, but with a tender side and an appreciation for justice. I imagined him with a dark hat and unconventional cowboy clothes, maybe left-handed, but definitely wearing only one gun. He would have a strong, yet soft, voice, though he seldom spoke. There would be a steel glint in his eyes and a fully justified, though subdued, arrogance to his walk. Women played no roles in any of my imagined sagas. 

So, I guess you could say my anticipation level was near fever pitch when I finally put together 15¢ (9¢ for the movie and 5¢ for a treat, with change) and headed down to the American Theater for a Saturday afternoon of pure entertainment watching the real story of JG unfold. On that fateful day of disillusionment, I did manage to sit through the entire movie – thanks mostly to my Holloway candy bar on a stick, which probably lasted through the full length of the film, the MovieTone News, the “previews,” the short-subject and the cartoons – but I have never watched any part of it since. Mercifully, I don’t recall much of the story, but I do remember it was a terrible movie and a horrible personal disappointment. It richly deserves the opprobrium which my friend, and others before, have heaped upon it. 

As for my friend’s question about other “deserving” Westerns, I found myself struggling to come up with candidates, probably because it is generally counter-intuitive, at least for me, to store much info about bad movies. But, using my friend’s second nominee, Johnny Conchowith Frank Sinatra, as stimulus, I did recall a couple of other Sinatra movies which qualify as real stinkers: Dirty Dingus Magee, with George Kennedy and Jack Elam, written in large part – believe it or not – by Joseph Heller; and Four For Texas, with Dean Martin, Anita Ekberg and Ursula Andress.

Speaking of Dean Martin, how about his movie called Texas Across The River, where Joey Bishop plays the part of an Indian sidekick. I also include on my list every movie made by Audie Murphy, including Destry; I loved his real-life story, but just couldn’t stand his persona or his movies.