TEXAS - DVD review

Sony has gone sagebrush-happy. This April, the studio is releasing a corral full of feisty westerns that includes "B" formula fare and some that fall between those crank-em-out shoot-em-ups and the high-concept films that we now regard as classics. Eight titles will be available on DVD for the first time:

"Bonanza Town" (Black and white, 1951, with Charles Starrett as the Durango Kid); "The Desperadoes" (1943, Columbia's first Technicolor feature film, starring Glenn Ford and Randolph Scott); "Good Day for a Hanging" (Color, 1958, Fred MacMurray and Robert Vaughn); "Jubal" (Color, 1956, with Glenn Ford, Ernest Borgnine and Rod Steiger); "Lust for Gold" (Black and white, 1949, another Glenn Ford vehicle); "The Texican" (Color, 1966, starring WWII hero Audie Murphy and Broderick Crawford); "The Violent Men" (Color, 1955, featuring Glenn Ford, Edward G. Robinson, and Barbara Stanwyck); and "Texas" (Black and white, 1941, pairing a very young Ford with an equally youthful William Holden).

I opted to review "Texas" for three reasons: it was the only one I hadn't seen (and I'd have to pronounce the rest "average" at best); it was the oldest of the releases (and I'm a sucker for early films of almost any genre); and Ford and Holden had to be about twelve at the time (actually, Ford was 25 and Holden was 23). It interested me that "Texas" was only Ford's second film and first western, while it was Holden's fourth film and second western. Tarnation, these guys were practically tenderfeet! Still, they both turn in credible performances, and the rest of the cast does a fine job of trying to infuse their particular western stereotype with some sort of pizzazz.

Will Wright, in his wonderful study, "Six-guns and Society" (Univ. of Calif. Press, 1975), summarizes the classic Western structure as a system of primary oppositions: inside vs. outside society, good vs. bad, strong vs. weak, and wilderness vs. civilization, with an uncomplicated plot that revolves around the moral character of the hero. In addition, he does perhaps the best job of naming the characteristics of the formula western. And "Texas" fits the classic western mold to a longhorn T-bone.

The hero enters a social group. The hero is unknown.

Call it a tale of two friends and two ranches. "Texas" opens in Abeline, Kansas, 1866, where two ex-confederate soldiers are drifters by default. No one will hire Johnny Rebs, especially two strangers, and so Dan Thomas (Holden) and Tod Ramsey (Ford) live like flim-flammers from meal to meal. But their fortunes take an odd turn when they enter Texas, witness a stagecoach robbery from afar, and decide to rob the robbers. When the posse catches up with them and finds Tod with the saddlebag full of money, they assume he's one of the bandits and attempt to lynch him. Then Danny rides up breathless and shouts that Indians are right behind him, "hundreds of them," and while the posse heads off in one direction, the two con artists ride away in another, laughing.

The hero is revealed to have an exceptional ability.

From the beginning, Danny is established as the more physical of the drifters, as quick to use his fists as he is to draw his six-shooter. He's also the one who said they should take the stagecoach money and run, while Tod talks about going to town and returning it. But both are smarter than the average cowpoke, and are absolute Houdinis when it comes to harrowing escapes.

"Texas" offers a surprising blend of straight formula action and something more. This unpretentious little western feels so comfortable in the saddle that it doesn't take itself too seriously. There are plenty of humorous moments throughout, and yet the gags don't diminish the drama one bit—they just add an interesting texture. Plus, there are more plot twists than a Texas tornado. Those much-vaunted classics like "Stagecoach" (1939) with it's character study depth, or "Red River," with its cattle drive footage and alpha male conflict, are far more predictable than this relatively obscure little western. There's a new twist, it seems, at every turn

The Society recognizes a difference between themselves and the hero; the hero is given a special status. The society does not completely accept the hero.

As the posse pursues them, the partners split up and try to lose them. Danny, who later remarks, "You fell on one side of the fence, and I fell on the other," sees a woman on a buckboard and forces a ride in order to put some distance between him and the posse. But when he finally makes it into town and is recognized by the sheriff who tried to arrest him, only the local dentist saves him. Doc Thorpe (Edgar Buchanan, in a colorful role) swears that he's not one of the robbers, and Danny is off the hook. In fact, Thorpe even introduces Danny to rancher Matt Lashan (Addison Richards), who tells the stranger to drop by the bunkhouse and he'll give him a job. But when Danny walks into the bunkhouse, he sees the very stagecoach robbers he and Tod jumped. It turns out that Doc Thorpe and Matt Lashan are in cahoots, using the ranch as a front while the cowhands rustle neighboring ranch cattle and hold up stagecoaches. In this tale of two friends, Tod fares much better, finding work at the Cradle T Ranch, run by respected rancher Dusty King and his daughter, "Mike" (Claire Trevor, who had been bounced around earlier during the borrowed buckboard escapade).

There is a conflict of interests between the villains and the society. The villains are stronger than the society; the society is weak.

When it looks nearly impossible for the ranchers to get a herd past the mysterious rustlers, Lashan offers to put together a massive cattle drive to Abeline and say's he'll pay them two dollars a head for their cattle. Of course they balk, because the East hasn't had beef for four years, and the market price is way up. But just as they're ready to cave in, Tod stands up and talks them into trusting him to take their cows to market, where he can get 18 dollars a head.

While Tod is rising to a leadershp position, so is Danny, who's suddenly challenging Lashan's authority and pitching a new scam to Lashan's men, one that will pay each of them more. "Why should we take all the risk and he takes all the profits?" Lashan asks.

There is a strong friendship or respect between the hero and a villain.

Though Danny ended up with the wrong crowd, and though they're both after the same woman—Mike—their fondness for each other never wavers. It's interesting that "Texas" explores the sociology of the western hero, the way that Mark Twain suggested, in "The Prince and the Pauper," that circumstances can play a major role in shaping individuals. At times, Danny and Tod are two sides of the western hero, while at other times they are classic hero and villain.

The villain threatens the society. The hero avoids involvement in the conflict. The villains endanger a friend of the hero's.The hero fights the villains; the hero defeats the villains.
The society is safe. The society accepts the hero. The hero loses or gives up his special status.

Now, a reviewer isn't supposed to give away the ending of a film, but hey, this is a formula western. Everyone knows how they end, even before the title sequence gets rolling. The surprise is that "Texas" maintains it's sense of humor—at one point, Danny plunks a spanking-new saddle down on Mike's doorstep and knocks, and she rushes out the door, trips over the saddle, and falls flat on her face—while also moving on its course with formula western destiny. Some good people and friends of the hero will die, that's one of the tropes. You know it's going to happen, and it does. There are also cattle stampedes (though there's a fun twist on this one too), bushwhackings, bar fights, and showdowns. But what makes "Texas" a treat-and-a-half is that there are also odd period scenes, like a prize fight where Danny takes on a professional boxer to try to get them a stake, or a community sing-along with pump-organ. It's an enjoyable romp of a western, from start to finish.

Video: The box proclaims that this is "remastered in High Definition," and for the most part the picture is really sharp and clear, with sufficient contrast. There are some scenes where there are flickers from dirt, so bear in mind that "remastered" and "restored" are two different things. For one scene there's a thin vertical line across the picture. But again, for a 1941 black-and-white film, the quality is excellent, and (again, no surprise) it's presented in 1.33:1 ratio, as was typical of films of the period.

Audio: Nothing fancy here, pardners, just Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono. But what were you expecting for a 1941 black-and-white western? The good news is that there's no hiss, snap, crackle, or pop. The sound is unspectacular, but solid.

Extras: There are no extras.

Bottom Line: "Texas" is a real sleeper of a western. How did a film this good become so obscure and invisible? The only thing I can think of is that 1941 was also the year that Raoul Walsh tabbed Errol Flynn (a hot property, after his swashbucklers) to star as Gen. Custer in "They Died with Their Boots On," and that same year the biggest grossing film featured Gary Cooper (another hot property) in a Cecil B. DeMille directed epic about the "North West Mounted Police." So how can two tenderfeet compete?

Then too, humor often goes unappreciated, and "Texas" dares to combine the western formula action picture with moments of comedy. That alone may have punched it's ticket to obscurity. But now that Sony has released it on DVD, it will be interesting to see whether a whole new generation of movie-lovers will embrace it with "Stagecoach," "Red River," and "They Died with Their Boots On" as a classic. I believe it deserves that consideration, because it's one of the first westerns to attempt to lighten the load besides using the usual goofball sidekick.