The makers of this film landed themselves in something of a quandary. When the film was all ready for release, someone in Republic's publicity department pointed out that the title meant nothing. There was not a single reference to brimstone, in any shape or allegorical form throughout the entire movie. A Foreword was hastily added in which the early settlers were commended for fighting Indians, drought - and outlaws like "Brimstone" Courteen. In the movie, however, the character is not called "Brimstone" but "Pop" Courteen, a title that masks a viciously vengeful rancher who, together with his three sons, is waging a secret war against the community in general, homesteaders in particular.
COMMENT: I don't know why Adrian Booth gets such prominent billing here. Her role is so small, you would expect to find her name well down the cast list. But then Jack Holt's part is so fleeting, he's hardly in the movie at all. Two players have the lion's share of the action: Number one, Rod Cameron, an indifferent performer, but rugged enough to acquit himself honorably in the action scenes (with the help of a stunt double, of course). Number two, Walter Brennan, who emerges as the real star of the film. Admittedly, you can't always rely on Brennan. True, he's given some engrossingly charismatic portraits in the past, but some directors seem to have been afraid of him and unable to keep him under control. But here in Brimstone, Brennan is not only perfectly cast, but perfectly controlled. It's a good meaty part, and though Walter plays it to the hilt, he doesn't overplay it, or project it on just the one monotonously menacing note. He shades the role well. He can temper open hostility and incredibly mean-spirited viciousness with sly cunning, subterfuge and even a seemingly transparent if rough yet rascally charm. Yes, Brennan has a great role. He plays it superbly.
Oddly, the next most impressive performance is handed out by Hal Taliaferro. A long-time western star, under the name Wally Wales, Taliaferro must have played hundreds of miniscule roles in the 1940s. His name often appears towards the bottom of cast lists, but it is usually very difficult to pick him out in the crowd. Here for once, he has a comparatively sizable role. Although he makes an extremely late entrance, he provides an extra ingredient in the climax, agreeably complicating the shoot-out and adding a few nice touches to the suspense.
Jack Lambert contributes his usual strong characterization as a surly but none-too-bright offspring, Guinn "Big Boy" Williams turns in a bit of slightly forced comic relief, while Forrest Tucker adequately holds down a none-too-large but unusual role as an opportunistic sheriff.
Production values are unusually good by Republic standards (even if they are helped out by some blue tinted stock and matching main footage in the introductory episode), with locations near Sacramento, a fair bit of action, and above all, as said, Walter Brennan's riveting performance.
COMMENT: I don't know why Adrian Booth gets such prominent billing here. Her role is so small, you would expect to find her name well down the cast list. But then Jack Holt's part is so fleeting, he's hardly in the movie at all. Two players have the lion's share of the action: Number one, Rod Cameron, an indifferent performer, but rugged enough to acquit himself honorably in the action scenes (with the help of a stunt double, of course). Number two, Walter Brennan, who emerges as the real star of the film. Admittedly, you can't always rely on Brennan. True, he's given some engrossingly charismatic portraits in the past, but some directors seem to have been afraid of him and unable to keep him under control. But here in Brimstone, Brennan is not only perfectly cast, but perfectly controlled. It's a good meaty part, and though Walter plays it to the hilt, he doesn't overplay it, or project it on just the one monotonously menacing note. He shades the role well. He can temper open hostility and incredibly mean-spirited viciousness with sly cunning, subterfuge and even a seemingly transparent if rough yet rascally charm. Yes, Brennan has a great role. He plays it superbly.
Oddly, the next most impressive performance is handed out by Hal Taliaferro. A long-time western star, under the name Wally Wales, Taliaferro must have played hundreds of miniscule roles in the 1940s. His name often appears towards the bottom of cast lists, but it is usually very difficult to pick him out in the crowd. Here for once, he has a comparatively sizable role. Although he makes an extremely late entrance, he provides an extra ingredient in the climax, agreeably complicating the shoot-out and adding a few nice touches to the suspense.
Jack Lambert contributes his usual strong characterization as a surly but none-too-bright offspring, Guinn "Big Boy" Williams turns in a bit of slightly forced comic relief, while Forrest Tucker adequately holds down a none-too-large but unusual role as an opportunistic sheriff.
Production values are unusually good by Republic standards (even if they are helped out by some blue tinted stock and matching main footage in the introductory episode), with locations near Sacramento, a fair bit of action, and above all, as said, Walter Brennan's riveting performance.