Jesse rides (yet) again
It was very annoying for Hollywood that Billy the Kid and Jesse James were killed. It curtailed the exploitative flicks that could be made about them. But the B-movie makers didn’t worry too much. You could always pretend they didn’t really die, or make movies about their sons, or indeed about people claiming to be those characters. In 1949 minor studio Lippert had an equally minor hit with its pulp-fiction picture I Shot Jesse James, written and directed by Samuel Fuller and starring John Ireland as the assassin Bob Ford and Reed Hadley as the assassinated Jesse. That success was too good to pass up; a sequel was definitely required. So John Ireland was brought back, as ‘Johnny Callum’, acting out Jesse’s criminal career, and the previous Jesse, Hadley, migrated to the part of brother Frank James.
The wheeze is that Johnny Callum is an outlaw who is a Jesse James lookalike. Head of the Younger clan Hank Younger (Henry Hull) recognizes the commercial potential of this and recruits Callum to dress up as Jesse and rob banks, striking horror in the hearts of Missouri bankers who all thought he was dead.
OK, yes, improbable, I know, but since when has probability been a criterion of the Western movie?
It was shot on the Universal lot and directed, on a pretty well zero budget, by Arthur Hilton, world-famous for Cat-Women of the Moon but not enjoying too much international renown as a director of Westerns on the grounds that this was his only one. It was produced by Carl Hittleman, who also contributed the story. Hittleman was the producer of such mighty epics as Kentucky Rifle and The Buckskin Lady. The screenplay based on Hittleman’s story was by Jack Natteford, who cobbled up the scripts of various Bob Steele and Hoot Gibson oaters.
Carl Hittleman (as proud grandad, it looks like)
Hank Younger (who of course never existed) has a daughter, Sue-Ellen Younger, equally fictional, played by Ann Dvorak, looking very like a 1930s diva. Ms. Dvorak started in Westerns aged 4, when she played Ramona’s daughter in the 1916 silent movie Ramona. She deals cards in Bob Ford’s saloon and she turns out to be the baddy, in fact, even badder than her dad Hank, and she will perish in the last reel, quite deservedly so. A young Hugh O’Brian is her (made-up) brother, Lem.
Daddy Younger and daughter Younger
The Fords, by the way are played by Clifton Young (Bob) and Tommy Noonan (Charlie) but their roles aren’t too big and they don’t play that much of a part in the story. Charlie sees ‘Jesse James’ and freaks out. Bob is a bit more level-headed. “We’re not gonna run away from no ghost, kid,” Bob tells his brother. Actually, Charlie was the older brother, not the younger, but hey. In most films Bob is the boss and Charlie is the younger/weaker/crazier one.
The opening titles are shown over what looks like an illustration from a dime novel and indeed it does turn out to be that, because Frank has a copy of such a ‘book’ about Jesse and it has the same picture on the front. That figures, because the whole movie is very much in the dime-novel tradition.
Hull recruits Ireland to bank robbin'
Frank has retired from outlawin’ and has got religion. His wife Ann (Barbara Woodell) is one of those apple-pies with too much sugar. Violin music plays when she talks. She pleads with her hubby to maintain the path of righteousness and sainthood. Yawn.
The gang wear proper dusters, so that’s good.
Margia Dean is a saloon gal who sings (badly) and Sid Melton provides a ‘comic’ turn as her piano player. I wish they’d cut those bits out.
Johnny decides to have another go at the bank at ‘Westfield’, Minnesota (why do they always change the names?) but Frank rides up there first and warns the sheriff (Victor Kilian), so when Johnny/Jesse and his gang get there, it’s just a repeat performance of 1876 and most of them are shot down. There’s a finale back in Clay County in which most of the protagonists shoot each other. The End.
It’s pretty bad, I warn you. I mean Samuel Fuller was bad enough; without even him it’s hopeless. Still, I guess the audiences in the low-rent Mid-West theaters enjoyed it in 1950. They were less demanding in them days. The picture probably only deserved one revolver but I bumped it to two for Ireland.
Ireland very good, even in Z-movies
Next I’ll be reviewing yet another Lippert post-Jesse B-Western, this time starring the (rather sad) Don ‘Red’Barry. But that will be for another day.