Tag: western

Belle Starr’s Daughter

  By

★★½
“Like mother, like daughter.”

After one of her henchmen kills a local marshal, a posse is sent from Antioch to deal with outlaw Belle Starr, who had previously been in an uneasy truce with the town. However, when they arrive, they find Belle dead, and the gang subsequently scatters. Her daughter, Rose (Roman) mistakenly blames the new marshal, Tom Jackson (Montgomery), for her mother’s death. She apparently takes up honest work as a waitress, and Jackson falls in love with the young woman, initially unaware of her felonious ancestry. But Rose ends up leaving town with Bob Yauntis (Cameron) – he’s a former member of the gang who, unknown to her, was the actual killer of Belle and the previous marshal.

I guess this is something of a follow-up to Belle Starr – or maybe Badman’s Territory, since Isabell Jewell played Belle in both movies. This certainly has a similarly loose approach, taking historical fact as a jumping-off point for fictional adventure. Belle did indeed have a child: however, she was named Pearl Starr. Rather than an outlaw, she became a prostitute and ended up running several bordellos herself, and died in Arizona in 1925 (I’m a little surprised she wasn’t covered in Outlaw Women of Arizona). This appears to be taking another Western wild woman, Cimarron Rose, and making her Belle’s daughter. In reality, that Rose did hang with a criminal nicknamed ‘Bitter Creek’, as Bob is called here. She was supposedly involved in the Battle of Ingalls, an 1893 gunfight between outlaws and law-enforcement. 

Back in the cinematic world, it’s a shame Belle doesn’t survive longer into the movie. Having her, not just be an outlaw, but being the leader of an entire gang, is not something you see much on Westerns, particularly from this era. Obviously, the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, but you don’t get the idea Rose is exactly the sharpest tool in the box, letting Bob manipulate her at every step of the way. She refuses to accept the truth, well beyond the point at which any sensible person would be going, “Wait a minute…” While Roman might not be Gene Tierney in Belle Starr, there is something of a resemblance. She passes muster in a “We have Gene Tierney at home” way. 

It is a little disappointing how she ends up sidelined in the middle, in favour of Marshal Jackson hunting after Bitter Creek Yauntis and his gang. Rose just becomes one of the gang, though the way she isn’t treated particularly differently from anyone else, is somewhat refreshing. She does take the lead in trying to help an injured gang member, leaping off her horse to help him when he collapses into a river. Bob’s callous indifference here is what helps turn Rose against him, and she flees (across some very nice scenery), with Bob and his henchmen in pursuit. No prizes for guessing who arrives to save the day: having a woman who could save herself was still a little too advanced for Hollywood.

Dir: Lesley Selander
Star: Ruth Roman, George Montgomery, Rod Cameron, Wallace Ford

Saints, Spies, and Six-Gun Outlaws: Outlaw Women of Arizona, by Mike Gavin

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Literary rating: ★★½
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆

This is a slim little book – more of a booklet, really, coming in at only 74 pages in length. But since it combines both our topic of discussion and local interest, because I live in Arizona, it was an easy decision to pick up a copy, after Dieter brought it to my attention. It does use quite a loose definition of “outlaw” – it is something only really discussed in the book’s epilogue, dividing them into three categories. Most obviously, are the ones Gavin calls “The Breakers of Law”, such as stagecoach robber Pearl Hart, whose exploits were dramatized in The Woman Who Robbed the Stagecoach. “Their crimes were against the statutes of the state.” 

As well as Hart, this covers Eva Dugan, the only woman executed in Arizona, who was hung in 1930 [Not-so fun fact: the executioner misjudged the drop, causing Dugan to be decapitated!], and the state’s most notorious killer, Winnie Ruth Judd, “The Trunk Murderess”. Are these latter two what I’d call “outlaws”? Or just criminals? There is a difference, albeit perhaps more so in perception than dictionary definition. Although there is also uncertainty as to whether both Bugan and Judd even committed the murders of which they were convicted. It is kinda disappointing that, in the true sense of the word, one woman who committed one (1) robbery, is about all Gavin could find in the history of the state, and back to when it was a territory.

Nor am I entirely convinced they “stood against power”, as Gavin claims. That feels more like an attempt to force post-feminist ideology onto them, though it might be more applicable to his third category, “The Breakers of Power… Women whose very existence challenged the authority of the state itself.” In this, he puts Apache warrior Lozen (whom I’d first heard of in the Warrior Women series hosted by Lucy Lawless); entrepreneur China Mary of Tombstone; and Teresa Urrea, the “Saint of Cabora.” who became a Joan of Arc-like figure for Mexican freedom fighters, on both sides of the border. But, again: Lozen is the only one whose “challenge of authority” seems like it was a conscious act. 

In between, we find “the Breakers of Convention… women whose primary crime was a refusal to be caged by the rigid expectations of their society.” These might be the most interesting figures, and it’s here where the limited space perhaps hurts most. While it’s laudable Gavin sticks to facts, without engaging in the speculation often seen around the likes of Calamity Jane, the average space allowed here is barely half a dozen pages. It’s enough to sketch only the basic details of a life, when some of them deserve much greater exploration. Pauline Cushman’s life as a Civil War spy, turned de facto sheriff, certainly merits more detail that her Wikipedia page provides. As a pointer towards some topics for further research, this is adequate. Just don’t expect much more. 

Author: Mike Gavin
Publisher: Self-published, available through Amazon, both as a paperback and an e-book
Stand-alone volume.

Howl Coyote Howl

  By

★★
“Ninety minutes of walking around the desert.”

I dunno. Maybe I’m getting less patient in my old age. Or maybe social media has shot my attention span to pieces. But I’ve noticed of late that my tolerance for underwhelming movies has worn precariously thin. I definitely feel like the average rating I’ve handed out on this side in the past year has gone down, as film after film has failed to capture my interest. This is the latest such: the best thing I can say about it is, the creators did a good job of keeping within their means. This means a cast in single digits, and everything shot where film-making is cheap, in the great outdoors.

It’s the story of Anna (Martin) and Gloria (Fernandez), who are on the run from Anna’s former lover, Dante Owens, the head of the powerful Athena Corporation, and are heading for Mexico. Due to Dante’s connections, they can’t cross the border in the traditional way, and hire two coyotes, Mr. Walcott (Sherman) and fake man of the cloth Marty (Corby). to sneak them out of the States. Because coyotes are white and American, right? Naturally, it doesn’t go as intended, with Dante having sent men of his own after them. Plus, how much are they able to trust their guides? If Dante makes a better offer, what will they do? At least Anna is an ex-soldier, with no qualms about doing whatever is necessary.

Outside of one thrown knife, however, you will be waiting a very long time for her to get round to doing it. Instead, you will get a lot of chit-chat, with the women’s – and, therefore, also the film’s – progress towards safety, slowed dramatically by Gloria’s sprained ankle. According to the director, the intention was to create a modern take on the spaghetti Western. Because, according to him, everyone else has been getting it wrong. It should be “a harsh look at American life and the rejection of fascist ideals and the power of the individual.” If I’d seen that sentence before watching the film, I might well have pretended to lose it instead. Though to be fair, I didn’t exactly get any message – least of all an anti-fascist one. 

It feels like the film is constructed backwards. We first meet our heroines as they enter the desert. From who and what they are running – surely a key element of the narrative – is not made clear until very much later, as is Anna’s background in the Middle East. So you’re left with no particular reason to care about the situation. I didn’t mind the performances too much, even if it might have been cool had Marty actually been a priest, rather than just pretending to be one. The problem here is simply an inadequate amount of things happening, until almost the final fifteen or twenty minutes. It’s a poster child for “too little, too late.”

Dir: Dylan T. Sherman
Star: Talia Martin, Gaby Fernandez, Dylan T. Sherman, Francis Lloyd Corby

Mary From the Prayer Ward

  By

★★½
“When you order Wynonna Earp on Temu.”

I mean: Stetson wearin’, six-gun shootin’ country gal, on a mission to slay demons, vampires and things that go bump in the West? Yeah, it’s like that. Mind you, there’s a rough start to this, with three minutes of what is likely a top contender for the worst acting of 2026. I guess it’s good to get it out of the way early, and it does make the rest of the cast look like Oscar candidates in comparison. To be fair, Jones is decent enough in the title role. Even when lumbered with some pretty clunky globs of exposition about a 17th-century Satanic cult, she is generally tolerable, and occasionally above that.

Things unfold in the rural Kansas town of Bentley, where a series of gruesome murders is baffling police chief Peaks (Neighill). He seems oddly unaware of the presence in Bentley of Mary, whose parents were fighters of the occult, killed in the line of duty. She now carries on the family tradition, with the help of her blind uncle Hughes (Polk). Naturally, these murders are the work of the unsubtly-named Velkir the Butcher (Smith), who is intent on completing a ceremony originally started in 1690’s Salem. For, y’see, the witch trials there were not hysteria, so much as a carefully-constructed cover-up of the truth, which involved a Satanic plot to raise Hecate. “What’s a Hecate?” asks Chief Peaks. Explanation follows.

It does feel like the structure of the film is a little weird. It’s not until well after the half-way point that Peaks and Mary formally team up, leading to a bit of a gallop towards the obvious confrontation with Mr. Butcher. This partnership requires a diversion, in which Mary takes him on a house call, helping a woman who is reporting strange happening in her home. He blames psychological issues, until she demonstrates otherwise, thereby convincing him of her genuine skill-set. It feels like this should have happened much earlier, to explain the casual way in which this nun is allowed to poke around crime scenes. Well, she’s got a clerical collar on, which seems to demonstrate a loose understanding of religious garb. 

My main issue, however, was the copious use of highly unconvincing CGI, from muzzle flashes and blood spatters, to showers of sparks as the supernatural entities are dispatched. It absolutely took me out of the situation every time I noticed them. Which was every time they appeared. Which was every time anything much happened. Neighill is certainly guilty of trying do much: between writing, directing, editing, co-starring, composing songs, etc. it feels like every other credit is his. But despite a cover pic (above) which makes it look more like Mary from the Special Ed Class, this isn’t worthless. As noted, Jones is an engaging heroine, and Smith’s scenery chewing antics are fun, taken in the right, B-movie way. It’s no replacement for Wynonna Earp. Yet as dollar store knock-offs go, I’ve seen worse.

Dir: Andrew Neighill
Star: Mandy Jones, Glenn Polk, Andrew Neighill, Christopher Thom Smith

The Pinkertons

  By

★★★½
“We never sleep.”

When we think of the tough women in the old West, the first ones that come to mind are usually, the criminals. Let’s face it, most people we celebrate as “legends of the old West” today were not really heroes. More often, they were people who broke the law, or highly questionable personalities such as Calamity Jane, Belle Starr, Pearl Hart or Etta Place. But we should not forget there is also the other side of the law! Though women were present in quite a number of job areas and were vital in the development of the country, very often history writing has focused rather on the achievements of men, overlooking the women’s part of the success story. But now and again, an interesting yet forgotten character is rediscovered and attracts new attention.

One of these characters is Kate Warne (sometimes spelled Warn), born in 1833 in New York. Coming from a poor background, life turned even more challenging after she became a widow at just 23 years old. She was working as a cleaning woman when she saw an advertisement in a newspaper. Allan Pinkerton, head of Pinkerton’s detective agency, was looking for new employees, interested in working for him. The agency were involved in quite a number of fascinating cases, such as the “Molly Maguires”. Those events were referenced in the Sherlock Holmes novel The Valley of Fear, and subsequently became the basis for a 1970 movie with Sean Connery and Richard Harris. Warne was able to convince Pinkerton to employ a female, arguing that women have an eye for details and are excellent observers. Indeed, it seems that Pinkerton grew quite fond of her as he spoke highly of her after her death.

Warne was active in solving crime cases and is said to have played an essential role in discovering a plot to kill Abraham Lincoln in 1861. She guarded him when his train passed locations where an attack was planned. (Unfortunately, she wasn’t around in 1865.) For the whole story I refer you to Warne’s Wikipedia page. But I especially like the following sentence there: “It is believed that Pinkerton came up with the slogan to his agency “we never sleep” as a result of Warne’s guard of Lincoln that night.” How much of that is true is difficult to say. Pinkerton himself was rumored to invent his own stories. He was definitely a man who knew how to blow his own trumpet. Though he had successes which prove the quality of his agency, and for a long time the Pinkertons were the most well-known and respectable detective agency.

The real Kate Warne

Kate had become the head of the female detectives department at Pinkerton’s, but died young, at just 35 years old in Chicago, of pneumonia. The Great Fire of 1871 there destroyed a lot of the company’s records, so not so much is known about Warne, apart from what Pinkerton himself reported about her and the cases in which she was involved. But in recent years this highly interesting character has had a resurgence in popular media. Among others, there have been a couple of children’s books, a novel, a non-fiction book about the female detectives at Pinkertons, a comic book and a low-budget movie on Amazon Prime, Pinkerton, in which she appears. She also played a very small role in the three-part TV series about Lincoln on the History Channel, and there has been talk of a big-budget Amazon MGM film, with Emily Blunt playing her and Jaume Collet-Serra directing.

I’m not quite sure when and why this new interest in Warne arose. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it started with this small, Canadian TV series from 2014, that ran until the following May. The Pinkertons was made by Rosetta Media and Buffalo Gal Pictures, in partnership with Channel Zero. Only one season with 22 episodes was produced, and obviously, it was not successful enough to get a second season. Which is, actually, kind of a pity, as the show ended with a cliffhanger. It’s a Western show, yes. But it is also a detective show, making it a very unusual hybrid. We are not used to seeing cowboys and detectives in the same series, and it is a smart way to cater to two different potential audiences: Western and crime fans.

It must be said, the budget was not very high: over the course of the series, we get to see the same sets again and again. The farm where Kate (Martha MacIsaac) lives for the time being, working for the elder Pinkerton, Allan (Angus MacFadyen). The local saloon in which she and young William Pinkerton (Jacob Blair) regularly meet. And the Sheriff’s office where suspects are imprisoned. Also, a lot of episodes take place in the woods or large fields, with single buildings housing the perpetrators or victims. The whole series is set in Kansas City, Missouri in 1865. Pinkerton Sr. thinks a lot of shady things happen here, which is why he insists that his son and new employee Kate stay there and work “undercover”. The Lincoln story discussed above is mentioned, but doesn’t play any role here.

The cases themselves are well-thought out. Not so complicated as to become ridiculous, nor easily and quickly figured out by viewers. They cover a wide range from murder and identity theft, to the killing of a dog. The three main characters are generally given equal attention, for this was before female characters in modern media started to become the center of everything (mostly by showing how inadequate or ridiculous men are, in the opinion of modern TV/film executives). There’s no such need here; while Will is initially not very happy about Kate, especially because his father makes her his superior, he quite quickly acknowledges her expertise and knowledge. They subsequently form a good team and work well together.

The pairing makes it possible for them to investigate different places and witnesses at the same time. Luckily, they also keep tabs on each other, with episodes where one would have been killed if the other hadn’t been around. Allan himself pops up now and again in the show, before he vanishes off to do something else. Other regulars include AnnaLee Webb (Jennifer Pudavick) who owns the saloon and the brothel in it; a black worker on Kate’s farm, John Bell; local sheriff Lawrence Logan; and Kenji Harada, a Japanese man who is initially a client, before becoming a Pinkerton apprentice. MacIsaac plays Kate Warne as a sophisticated young woman without attitude. She is neither a bombshell nor a spinstery type. She is always polite, well-dressed and appears a bit out of place in this typically Western town, as if she does belong more in the big city.

Meanwhile, Will is a bit of a rascal and wants to prove his worth as a detective to his grumpy but sympathetic father. But he and Kate get along well, developing a friendly working relationship. She doesn’t reveal much about her background. I wonder if screenwriters maybe wanted to set up something along the lines of the Benedict Cumberbatch version of Sherlock Holmes, without the extremes. She definitely has a scientific mind, quoting facts that indicate she is well-read, and uses what could be called early forensic investigative methods. But she is not set up as a genius and doesn’t solve the cases alone: this is genuine team work. In the beginning, I wondered if Kate really belonged in the “girls with guns” genre, since an investigator is not necessarily someone involved in much action. But I shouldn’t have worried: there’s enough to confirm her action heroine status!

Regrettably, the show had an open ending. Billy the Kid turns up with a new experimental rifle to take revenge on old Pinkerton, finally challenging young Will to a duel. They have a shoot-out but the outcome has to stay a mystery, as this is where the show ended. It was, of course, a gamble of the producers, in the hope that a second season would be ordered. Unfortunately it didn’t pay off, and we are left with an unfinished story. I do understand why it might not have been a big ratings success. For a Western fan, there might not be enough gun-fighting; and for a crime series fan, the Western tropes might be largely uninteresting. But I did like the mixture. All in all, this is a nice little show. 

I did sometimes think there could have been better set design: in the interior of houses, everything looked a bit spartan. Also, I wondered if the way the three main characters were such a good team and got along so well, might have made the show too humdrum for many. Some stronger emotional conflicts or personal problems in their relationships with each other, could have made the whole thing a bit more interesting. But you don’t always need that. Sometimes it’s nice just to have a team that does its work, has a good relationship with each other, and that’s it. This is a well-done detective show that might have helped to reintroduce Kate Warne to the modern public. I liked it well enough, and am indeed curious what a big movie about her might offer, if the proposed production with Emily Blunt should indeed become a reality.

Creators: Kevin Abrams and Adam Moore
Star: Martha MacIsaac, Jacob Blair, Angus Macfadyen, Jennifer Pudavick 

Lola Colt

  By

★★★
“From stage to stage.”

This spaghetti Western sees Lola (Falana) arrive in the town of Santa Ana with her troupe of dancing girls, after one of them falls ill. They need to stay there while she recuperates, under the care of the local not-quite-a-doctor-yet, Rod Strater (Martell). The town has bigger problems, being ruthlessly squeezed for every penny by El Diablo (Cobos). Lola lost her family to a not dissimilar band of outlaws, and is peeved that the menfolk are utterly cowed by El Diablo, even after Rod explains that the villains has taken hostages and is using them to compel the town’s good behaviour. But after a particularly tragic death, Lola has had enough, and rouses the town folk to action.

In many ways, this is a standard Western, with the lone good guy taking on the villains: hence its subtitle, “Face to face with the devil”. Except, of course, in this case, the guy is a gal. Oh, and Lola is black. I have just mentioned this fact more in the review, than the film ever does, being refreshingly colour-blind. It’s especially remarkable given the era, a good few years before Pam Grier would become a trailblazer back in Hollywood. It’s tempting to read race into Lola being greeted with, “We don’t need your kind around here,” when she steps off the coach. Subsequent events show it’s just the local morality police, who are severely unimpressed with her profession, rather than the shade of her skin. 

In another twist, the villain’s real name is actually Larry Stern, which sounds more like an advertising executive. He’s a businessman who got peeved when his plans for a railroad fell through because the locals wouldn’t sell him their land, and decided to take revenge on them. Falana, though born in New Jersey, was already a star on Italian TV, and also performs a few musical numbers here. Though I did wonder where the music, a full-on jazzy production, was coming from in the town’s saloon, where there are no musicians at all. She certainly brings it with her moves, which are much more Vegas than Old West. And she would indeed go on to become the highest-paid performer in Sin City. 

Until the final assault on El Diablo’s compound, where she demonstrates she does know her way around both ends of a firearm, Lola is more a figurehead to the town’s resistance, encouraging them to break free of their fears.  The physical side of things is mostly left to Rod, who gets a couple of lengthy fist-fights, including one with El Diablo, when he’s not dealing with jealous girlfriend Rose (Schürer). It is this middle section where the film struggles a little, being particularly generic in its elements. But Falana is always compelling to watch, and it’s a shame she wasn’t given many further opportunities in our genre: 1975’s Lady Cocoa was perhaps the closest she came, although it doesn’t quite qualify for inclusion here. 

Dir: Siro Marcellini
Star: Lola Falana, Peter Martell, Germán Cobos, Erna Schürer
a.k.a. Black Tigress

Oklahoma Annie

  By

★★★
“Annie, forget your gun.”

Judy Canova, known as ‘Queen of the Cowgirls’, was a popular star of radio and screen in the forties and fifties. She had a certain schtick: a homely but honest country gal, who stumbled into trouble – often with singing involved. I admit, the mere title of one such entity, Joan of Ozark, made me laugh. Here – despite the title – she plays a character called Judy, as she often did. The film’s name comes from Judy’s grandmother, who had been a much-feared sheriff. According to Judy, “The bad men in these parts were so scared of her, that they either plum reformed, or hung themselves by way of cooperating.” Judy now runs a trading post.

She is deputized by the town’s new sheriff Dan Fraser (Russell), after Judy captures a bank robber, Curt Walker (Barcroft), using her store and its contents in a way which reminded me of Home Alone. But after Fraser heads off to get a judge to try the case, leaving Judy in charge, her lack of relevant experience becomes problematic. She knows her way around a horse: law enforcement, not so much. However, in a remarkably progressive story-line considering the era, she rounds up the women of the town, who then ride off to save the day, and Fraser. I guess that could be considered a spoiler. But if you think a fifties Western was ever going to do anything except have good prevail… 

I found myself liking Judy Canova – both the actress and the character – more than I would have expected. If the latter is clearly short on book learnin’, and hardly what you would call a classical beauty, she makes for an appealing heroine, being brave, honest and warm-hearted. I’d like to have seem more of her – and, say, less of the two prospectors who are supporting characters, try to steal her success, and whose comic relief mugging certainly outstayed its welcome. Canova falling for Fraser (and his newfangled auto-mo-beel), causing her pigtails to go independent, is the stuff of classic slapstick. I didn’t even mind the three songs she sings: they are kept brief, and the one where there are four Judys, courtesy of a set of mirrors, harmonising with each other, is genuinely well-done and charming.

Of course, between the light-hearted tone in general, and the fact this is well over seventy years old, you won’t get anything like modern GWG action. But considering these factors, it’s surprisingly ahead of its time. What stood out for me was Canova, who is massively against type of almost any other Western heroine. Maybe heroine in any genre: Melissa McCarthy in Spy might be the closest, though she’s considerably smarter. I could see Canova as a goofy sidekick, not the central character. Yet I undeniably found myself rooting for her, charmed by her innocence and unstoppable good nature. If not something I’d want as a regular diet, it was a refreshing way to clean my palate.

Dir: R. G. Springsteen
Star: Judy Canova, John Russell, Grant Withers, Roy Barcroft

Billie the Kid

  By

★½
“Sadly, they’re not kid-ding.”

I’m inclined to look kindly on this, because I suspect it was a local production, filmed here in Arizona. While the end credits are silent on the topic, there are enough saguaro cacti about, to make it likely the faux Western town and other locations used, were somewhere near me. I recognize an actor or two as well. Unfortunately, it’s not exactly a film I would hold up as a shining example of quality Arizona cinema. While clearly set in the Old West, the movie is stuffed with anachronisms, from haircuts through a terrible British accent to glasses. It consequently never succeeds in establishing a convincing sense of period. This is a bit of a shame, since the Western horror action heroine isn’t one we see often. 

In this case, it’s vampires which provide the darker elements – though these can daywalk, probably because it’s harder to film at night. A small clan are seeking the location of Drakul, a senior bloodsucker who can grant a blessing to his chosen one. Emphasis on “one”, leading to dissent in the ranks. Meanwhile, the bodies they left behind causes local Sheriff Jack Barton (Prell) to assemble a posse. Included is Billie (Hsu), who was languishing in Barton’s jail, but is allowed out due to her tracking skills. There’s also a Van Helsing type, in the shape of black “British” guy – did I mention the accent? – James Underhill (Monroe), who seems to know a lot about them. One might say a suspicious amount.

A simple approach would have worked better here, pitting cowboys against vampires in a straightforward action adventure. But the film diverts too much time and energy into uninteresting areas. For example, it tries repeatedly to generate romantic tension between Billie and Jack. However, when this relies on lines like, “I’m plenty good – and I’m good at plenty”, it’s a struggle which is more uphill than the side of El Capitan. Similarly, one of the vampires (Conran) has taken up with a prospector (did I mention the haircut?), a thread which occupies running-time and little else. The same goes for Billie’s back story, involving sexual abuse and revenge. Couldn’t she just be a gunslinger without a tragic past?

Things grind to a particular halt in the middle, freeing me up to consider whether or not this was better than the infamous and similarly themed 1966 B-movie, Billy the Kid Versus Dracula. Given John Carradine called the latter the worst of the 343 feature films in which he appeared, the competition is tough. This probably isn’t quite as bad: Hsu does what she can with dialogue which is often spectacularly terrible. But much like its predecessor, this fails badly as a Western, and likely even more so as a horror film. I was left with a greater understanding of precisely why the two genres have largely gone their own way. Though the general ineptness in this production certainly doesn’t help.

Dir: Paul Tomborello
Star: Olivia Hsu, Frank Prell, Zion Monroe, Veronica Conran

They Call Her Death

  By

★★½
“At no point, does anyone call her death…”

It’s clear what Snell is going for here. This is a throwback to the spaghetti Westerns of the seventies, along with Italian exploitation films from around the same time. I certainly admire the effort which went into this: for example, rather than shooting digitally and applying effects to imitate film, Snell actually shot on Kodak 16mm stock. I did not know that was still a thing, to be honest. Some of the other elements, like the music, also do a good job of reproducing the era – the movie poster is another one. I’ve seen enough of this kind of movie (mostly through Project Kinski), to appreciate what he’s doing.

Unfortunately, I’ve seen enough of this kind of thing, to be able to differentiate the good from the bad, and a fair bit of this skews towards the latter. Molly Pray (Rippel) can only watch as her husband is gunned down in front of her by a bounty-hunter, having been framed for the murder of a lawyer, But she will not accept this, and begins to unravel the threads of the conspiracy, which made Mr. Pray an unwitting victim. And when I say, “unravel”, I mean with extreme, bloody prejudice. She guts some, blows the faces off others, on her way up to the chain to the person pulling the strings at the top. She’s holding a stick of dynamite. We’ll leave it at that. 

If you are looking for a comparison, it would be something along the lines of Hobo With a Shotgun. That’s a film I love dearly, and that might be partly why I’m a little sniffy about this. Because if you compare Hobo to Death, the results do not favour this, almost across the board. Most obviously, while Rippel is decent, she’s barely in the same solar system as Rutger Hauer. The lack of a strong antagonist here is a problem too. Instead, Molly largely chews up one person after another. But because we don’t know much about them – beyond their connection, sometimes tangential, to the death of her husband – there’s a severe lack of emotional impact, even as she’s dismembering them for her pigs to eat. 

Finally, the pacing leaves something to be desired, especially the sections where the focus drifts off Molly, such as to the friendly new deputy, who is generally on her side. Almost any time he was on the screen, I found myself quickly losing interest, and keen for it to go back to the directly focused line of Mully’s vengeance. The reliance on mostly practical effects is laudable, and there are certainly some impressively gory moments of which Lucio Fulci and his ilk would be proud. But too many of the supporting performances feel like they come from people who were available. Given the shoot took several years from start to finish, that may not be much of a stretch. 

Dir: Austin Snell
Star: Sheri Rippel, Jeff Boyer, Devan R. Garcia, Shawn Nyberg

The Stolen Valley

  By

★★½
“Topples over into earnestness”

This feels like a modern Western. I think it was shot up on the borders of Utah and Arizona, since I recognized scenes shot at the Buckskin Tavern, in that area. While contemporary, with relatively minor tweaks, it could easily take place a century or more ago, back when robber land barons were a thing in the Old West. Lupe (Covarrubias) is in desperate straits, with her mother Adamina (Miranda) in need of money to pay for medical treatment she can’t afford. There’s another shock: the father, Carl (Fitzgerald), who Lupe long believed dead, is actually alive, and might be the last chance of getting the necessary funds. So she decides to make the journey to see him.

Barely is she under way – she’s seeking to pawn jewellery to raise a little cash – when she encounters Maddie (Hethcoat). And when I say “encounters”, she comes out of the back of the pawn-shop, guns blazing. For Maddie has a sizable debt too, to some unpleasant people, and now they perceive Lupe as her accomplice. The two young women decide Carl could solve both of their problems, only to find him engaged in a dubious scheme to sell off land, which actually belongs to Adamina, to an oil company, having convinced them Adamina is dead. It’s a move which will result in the indigenous people being thrown off the property, and Lupe’s unexpected presence clearly represents a threat to  the deal. 

This does a lot of things right. Most obviously, it takes place in some gorgeous locations, and the photography does them justice. The performances are generally effective as well, with Hethcoat in particular a lot of fun to watch. She cuts a striking figure with her blonde hair, cowboy hat, and a take no prisoners attitude. Maddie is in sharp contrast to Lupe, who has been brought up “the right way”, and they make for an amusing pairing as they play off each other. Although scenes like the gratuitous flamenco dancing may not move the plot forward, they are still amusing to watch, and they build the character. Indeed, they might be fun precisely because they are separate from the plot. 

Because that’s the film’s problem. It’s a script where far too much happens because the story needs it. Why did Adamina leave without taking the property deed, clearly her most precious asset? Why did Carl hang on, not just to the deed, but also the letter Adamina wrote to her own mother, for over twenty years? And don’t even start me on the remarkable coincidence of Maddie’s background. Add in a not-so subtle subtext of “Men are bad, and white men – they’re the worst“, and it all begins to topple over under the weight of its own moral superiority. I’ve no doubt Edwards’ heart is in the right place. However, the message here too often gets in the way of the movie. 

Dir: Jesse Edwards
Star: Briza Covarrubias, Allee Sutton Hethcoat, Micah Fitzgerald, Paula Miranda