Despite a bit of shooting on outdoor locations, this is a talky and rather stagey western, obviously made on the cheap, using some ridiculously obvious studio backgrounds and sets. This wouldn't be so irritating, if the level of studio craftsmanship had risen to the occasion. Even Bob Mark's make-up is ghastly. Harry Stradling's Trucolor photography is also several notches below his best work. At least the Lydeckers have risen to the occasion with some effective explosions. The director has a royal time shuffling his large groups of players into phalanxes that toe the right chalk marks, but is defeated by the script's stagey, theatrical dialogue which makes it appear we are watching a stage play rather than a movie. Oh, yes, you can read a lot into the cult-flavored screenplay, but that doesn't make it any easier to digest. It's still dull, tedious and very stagey. True, Joan Crawford does add a bit of meat to her stretches, but Hayden makes a weak support. Maybe he's supposed to provide a contrast to the fiery Crawford, but he's still too glum and far too lacking in charisma. But there's no excuse for Scott Brady's inept performance. He's just way, way out of his depth. On the other hand, Ben Cooper is surprisingly effective. Ward Bond and Ernest Borgnine also stand out as solid support figures, but it is the sulfuric performance by Mercedes McCambridge that will make the film live in any hall of fame. Her ruthlessly naked depiction of evil, coupled with the burning down of the saloon, are the movie's most memorable assets. Add Victor Young's effective music score with its melodious theme and song – rendered very briefly by Peggy Lee under the end credits. Available on an Olive Films DVD.
Review of Johnny Guitar
