Falsely accused of murder, Rod Drew (John Wayne) and his buddy Wabi (Noah Beery, Jr.) jump off a train and end up in the Canadian wilderness, where they eventually find a deserted cabin, a map to a gold mine, and plenty of trouble when French-Canadian outlaw Jules LaRocque (Robert Frazer) decides that he wants the map and kidnaps Wabi’s girlfriend, Felice (Verna Hillie), to get it.
This was one of the many B-westerns that John Wayne made in between 1930’s The Big Trail and 1939’s Stagecoach. The film finds the youngish Wayne playing a slightly less upright character than usual. He’s still the hero but he’s also wanted by the police and spends much of the film fleeing from them. The movie is only 55 minutes long and the action moves quickly. The film’s Canadian locations and Robert Frazer’s over-the-top villain gives The Trail Beyond a slightly different and quirkier flavor than most the Duke’s 1930s output. I think this might be the only film to feature Wayne working with the Mounties. Even in this low-budget production, John Wayne is a strong hero who just looks like he belongs on a horse and traveling across the frontier. For someone who was the president of his high school’s Latin Club., Wayne had an automatic authenticity when it came to playing cowboys, even in the years before Stagecoach made him one of the biggest stars in the world. This is also one of the few films to feature both Noah Beery Sr. and Noah Beery Jr. While Beery Jr. plays Wayne’s sidekick and is in the film almost as much as John, Berry Sr.’s role is much smaller. He’s the store owner who is also Felice’s father.
Obviously, this is a film for fans of the genre only but it’s a good example of how John Wayne could make even his Poverty Row productions entertaining and watchable.
In a frontier town, land baron William P. Donavon (James A. Marcus) finds his control challenged by the arrival of a English cattleman named John W. Tunston (Wyndham Standing). Donavon orders his henchmen to gun down Tunston on the same day that Tunston was to marry the lovely Claire (Kay Johnson). Tunston’s employee, an earnest young man named Billy The Kid (Johnny Mack Brown), sets out to avenge Tunston’s murder. When Billy starts killing Donavon’s henchmen, it falls to Deputy Sheriff Pat Garrett (Wallace Beery) to arrest him. When Billy escape from jail and rides off to be with Claire, Garrett pursues him. Garrett is a friend of Billy’s and he knows that Billy’s killings were justified. But he’s also a man of the law. Will he be able to arrest or, if he has to be, even kill Billy? Or will Garrett let his friend escape?
There were two silent biopics made about Billy the Kid but neither of them are around anymore. This sound movie, directed by King Vidor, appears to the earliest surviving Billy the Kid film. It’s a loose retelling of Billy’s life and his friendship with Pat Garrett and it doesn’t bother with sticking close to the established facts but that’s to be expected. It’s an early sound film and, seen today, the action and some of the acting feels creaky. Wallace Beery was miscast as Pat Garrett but I did like Johnny Mack Brown’s performance as the callow Billy. The movie goes out of its way to justify Billy’s murders and it helps that Billy is played by the fresh-faced Brown. King Vidor shows a good eye for western landscapes, a skill that would come in handy when he directed Duel In The Sun seventeen years later.
There are better westerns but, for fans of the genre, this film is important as the earliest surviving film about one of the most iconic outlaws not named Jesse James. It’s interesting to see Brown, usually cast as the clean-cut hero, playing a killer here. The film’s ending is pure fantasy but I bet audiences loved it.
With that in mind, I recently watched the 1928 film In Old Arizona. In Old Arizona is a bit of an oddity in Oscar history. Even though it is considered to have been a best picture nominee, it was never officially nominated. In fact, in 1929, there were no official nominees. Instead, the Academy simply announced the names of the winners. The winners were selected by a small committee of judges. The committee’s intentions are particularly obvious when you notice that not one film won more than one Oscar in 1929. At a time when the industry was struggling to make the transition from silent film to the talkies, the 1929 Oscars were all about spreading the wealth and reassuring everyone that they were doing worthwhile work. In Old Arizona‘s star, Warner Baxter, was named the year’s best actor while Broadway Melody was declared to have been the best picture.
(At that year’s Oscar ceremony, the second in the Academy’s history, the awards were reportedly handed out in 10 minutes and nobody gave an acceptance speech. If this all seems strange when compared to the annual extravaganza that we all know and love, consider that Louis B. Mayer originally formed the Academy in order to give the studio bosses the upper hand in a labor dispute. The awards were largely an afterthought.)
Years later, Oscar historians came across the notes of the committee’s meeting. The notes listed every other film and performer that the committee considered. Before settling on Broadway Melody, the committee apparently considered In Old Arizona. For that reason, In Old Arizona is considered to have been nominated for best picture of the year.
If it seems like I’ve spent a bit more time than necessary discussing the history behind the 1929 Oscars, that’s because In Old Arizona isn’t that interesting of a film. It was a huge box office success in 1929 and it was an undeniable influence on almost every Western that followed but seen today, it’s an extremely creaky film. Influential or not, there’s not a scene, character, or performance in In Old Arizona that hasn’t been done better by another western.
Based on a story by O. Henry, In Old Arizona tells the story of a bandit named The Cisco Kid (Warner Baxter). Cisco may be an outlaw but he’s also a nice guy who enjoys a good laugh and occasionally sings a song while riding his horse across the Arizona landscape. (California and Utah stood in for Arizona.) The Cisco Kid may rob stagecoaches but he always does it with a smile. Besides, he only needs the money so that he can give gifts to his girlfriend, Tonia (Dorothy Burgess). What the Cisco Kid doesn’t know is that Tonia is bored and frustrated by his frequent absences and she has been cheating on him. Then she’s approached by Sgt. Mickey Dunn (Edmund Lowe), the big dumb lug who has been ordered to bring the Kid in (dead or alive, of course). Will Tonia betrayed the Kid?
If you’re watching In Old Arizona and hoping to be entertained, you’ll probably be disappointed. Almost everything about this film has aged terribly. Watching the film, it’s obvious that none of the actors had quite figured out how to adapt to the sound era and, as such, all of the performances were very theatrical and overdone. Probably the easiest to take is Edmund Lowe, who at least managed to deliver his lines without screeching. Sadly, the same cannot be said of Dorothy Burgess. As for Warner Baxter, he may have won an Oscar for playing the Cisco Kid but that doesn’t make his acting any easier to take.
And yet, if you’re a history nerd like me, In Old Arizona is worth watching because it really is a time capsule of the era in which it was made. In Old Arizona was not only the first Western to ever receive an Oscar. This was also the first all-talking, all-sound picture. Watching it today, without that knowledge, you might be tempted to wonder why the film lingers so long over seemingly mundane details, like horses walking down a street, the ticking of a clock, a baby crying, or a church bell ringing. But, if you know the film’s significance, it’s fun to try to put yourself in the shoes of someone watching In Old Arizona in 1929 and, for the first time, realizing that film could not just a visual medium but one of sound as well. For some members of that 1929 audience, In Old Arizona was probably the first time they ever heard the sound of a horse galloping across the landscape.
(I have to admit that, as a student of American history, I couldn’t help but get excited when one of the characters mentioned President McKinley. McKinley may be forgotten today but audiences in 1929 would not only remember McKinley but also his tragic assassination. By mentioning that McKinley was President, In Old Arizona not only reminded audiences that it was taking in the past but that it was also taking place during what would have been considered a more innocent time. Much as how later movies would use John F. Kennedy as a nostalgic symbol of a more idealistic time, In Old Arizona uses William McKinley.)
In Old Arizona is no longer a particularly entertaining film but, as a historical artifact, it is absolutely fascinating.
Falsely accused of murder, Rod Drew (John Wayne) and his buddy Wabi (Noah Beery, Jr.) jump off a train and end up in the Canadian wilderness, where they eventually find a deserted cabin, a map to a gold mine, and plenty of trouble when French-Canadian outlaw Jules LaRocque (Robert Frazer) decides that he wants the map and kidnaps Wabi’s girlfriend, Felice (Verna Hillie), to get it.
Through the Shattered Lens 