For the most part this is a movie only of interest to Autry enthusiasts and those who like the superb title song (around which the script was presumably cobbled together). Sure enough, the song pops up twice and is easily the film's highlight on each occasion. The way that it is sung here, with emotion and zeal, and the mythic quality of its lyrics means that it transcends the B-material in which it is embedded.
The exception to boredom is the sequence in the film where the song plays out over the stark mono images of the old timer's grizzled face (as a character he dies shortly afterwards.) For an all too brief few minutes the power of the music asserts itself and the cinematography comes alive in high contrast black and white photography. The old timers' face becomes epic, stark, and deeply moving. In fact, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, I was reminded of Eisenstein's framing of facial 'types' in his Alexander Nevsky or October. So poetically powerful is this scene that it seems to have wondered in from another, more prestigious, movie (a good Western candidate being perhaps Anthony Mann's The Furies, where such stylisation abounds).
Then like a pan handler's lucky strike, the moment of glory fades and we are back to cinematic mediocrity, and a negligible, undramatic oater of most interest to hard core fans and completists.
The exception to boredom is the sequence in the film where the song plays out over the stark mono images of the old timer's grizzled face (as a character he dies shortly afterwards.) For an all too brief few minutes the power of the music asserts itself and the cinematography comes alive in high contrast black and white photography. The old timers' face becomes epic, stark, and deeply moving. In fact, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, I was reminded of Eisenstein's framing of facial 'types' in his Alexander Nevsky or October. So poetically powerful is this scene that it seems to have wondered in from another, more prestigious, movie (a good Western candidate being perhaps Anthony Mann's The Furies, where such stylisation abounds).
Then like a pan handler's lucky strike, the moment of glory fades and we are back to cinematic mediocrity, and a negligible, undramatic oater of most interest to hard core fans and completists.