Review #1,411: 'Ramrod' (1947)

Feuding landowners have always been a popular subject matter for the old-school B-movie westerns, and on face value Andre De Toth's Ramrod appears to be cut from very familiar material. The presence of co-stars Joel McCrea and Veronica Lake no doubt attracted punters charmed six years earlier by their performances in Preston Sturges' masterpiece Sullivan's Travels, and they would be forgiven if they thought they were in for some light-hearted white hat vs. black hat cowboy fun, with a little bit of romance sprinkled in for good measure. In fact, Ramrod couldn't be further away from Sturges' romp in terms of tone, with De Toth revelling in the cynicism of all but one of its central characters. Based on a story by legendary Western author Luke Short, this is a tough, twisty horse opera that pushes its characters into morally murky territory, sharing more in common with the film noir genre than the tropes of a western.

As the film opens, we are already at the boiling point of a conflict between powerful ranch owner Frank Ivey (Preston Foster) and sheepherder Walt Shipley (Ian MacDonald). Walt wants to bring sheep to the land, a big problem in cattle country. Caught in the middle of the feud is Connie Dickason (Lake), the beautiful and headstrong daughter of rancher Ben (Charles Ruggles). Her father wants Connie to marry Ivey, but she detests his bullying, violent manner and prefers to marry Walt instead. As it turns out, Walt doesn't have the stomach for a fight and flees town, leaving his Circle 66 ranch to Connie. Rather than caving to Ivey's demands for the land, Connie hires the stoic Dave Nash (McCrea) as her 'ramrod', or foreman, who feels indebted to Walt for taking him in when he was at his lowest. Dave accepts, but only on the promise that he is allowed to deal with Ivey peacefully, and without resorting to violence. He hires the free-spirited Bill Schell (Don DeFore) as back-up, but as Ivey and his gang employ increasingly brutal methods and Connie loses patience with Dave's restraint, alliances are forged and broken as the conflict spirals out of control.

Despite the magic they made together working with Sturges, I've never been particularly fond of either McCrea or Lake as actors. They have the screen presence, certainly, but they can both come across as empty shells. They are undoubtedly the weakest aspect of Ramrod, a film that is otherwise riveting from start to finish. The story is complicated enough to hold your interest for the duration, with supporting characters emerging to play a more important role that you were expecting, and revealing hidden layers that provide plenty of twists and turns. Indeed, Ramrod would be pretty pedestrian if Dave's methods proved to be the only way, and as his grip on the situation loosens when the back-stabbing and dirty dealings start to play out, the film heads into pure film noir territory. As the bodies start to pile up and the gun-fire becomes more frequent, De Toth forces his characters down some incredibly dark paths and doesn't wimp out of the difficult corners he backs them into. This is tough and exciting stuff, made all the more interesting by the way De Toth toys with the myth of black against white. The weakness of the leads is countered by some excellent supporting players, in particular Foster and DeFore.


Directed by: André De Toth
Starring: Joel McCrea, Veronica Lake, Don DeFore, Donald Crisp, Preston Foster, Arleen Whelan, Charles Ruggles, Lloyd Bridges
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #920: 'Brute Force' (1947)

When Jules Dassin was placed on the Hollywood Blacklist in 1950 during the making of Night and the City, the director was on a roll. Along with Night and the City, which he filmed before being banned from the production studio, bringing his flourishing career to an immediate halt, Dassin also made The Naked City (1948) and Thieves' Highway (1949), now classics of the noir genre, and Brute Force, possibly the weakest of his noir quartet but a thrilling, insightful film nonetheless. Although set entirely inside prison walls - with a few flashback cutaways - Brute Force is pure pulp noir, featuring a towering lead performance from Burt Lancaster and a tour de force by Hume Conyn as the film's main antagonist.

Joe Collins (Lancaster) has just done a stint in solitary. Being lead back to his cell by chief of security Captain Munsey (Conyn), Joe maintains his innocence and that the knife he was found with was planted on him. It turns out that Joe is indeed innocent of his alleged crime, and along with his friends from cell R17, knows who the culprit is. Their own brand of justice involves guiding the offender with flame-throwers onto a huge plate press while the guards are distracted by a brawl. With so much violence occurring inside the prison walls, Warden Barnes (Roman Bohnen) is put under pressure to control the inmates through strict discipline and the guards enforcing their authority. This catches the attention of the ambitious Munsey, and the likeable Dr. Walter (Art Smith), who although constantly inebriated, can see the bubbling tensions and inevitable explosions of violence that are due to come.

The film's title is suitably apt for the attitudes of the two opposing factions. Joe and his crew plan their escape by taking the prison with an arsenal of weapons at their disposal, while Munsey, using the warden's wavering support as an opportunity to rise through the ranks, starts to manipulate the prisoners into becoming informers and gleefully beating upon a prisoner when he refuses to talk. It's about the ugliness of brute force, and disastrous results that come from employing it. Munsey is a small man, but delights in imposing his authority on the weak and the restrained like a bullying victim getting revenge on the big boys who stole his lunch money. It's riveting throughout, but could have done without the flashback scenes, where it is revealed that the gang are all locked up as a result of some femme fatale or other. It builds to a ferocious climax, where the inmates fight the guards, ending on a note as suitably grim as it's portrayal of the durability of the prison system.


Directed by: Jules Dassin
Starring: Burt Lancaster, Hume Cronyn, Charles Bickford, Art Smith, John Hoyt
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #321: 'The Devil Thumbs a Ride' (1947)

Steve Morgan (Lawrence Tierney) pulls off a heist and kills the cashier. Fleeing the police, he hitches a ride with love-sick Jimmy Ferguson (Ted North), who is on his way back home to his wife after a work party. They stop at a gas station where Morgan's bad attitude rubs off on night watchman Joe (Andrew Tombes). Steve invites two women to tag along and they set off again, only for Joe to report Steve to the police after he hears a warning on the radio. A road block is set up, blocking their path, so Steve suggests they go to the beach house of Steve's boss as Jimmy stinks of booze. While there, the group start to learn the truth about Steve's crime and just what he is capable of.

The Devil Thumbs a Ride has picked up a cult following over the years from B-movie historians and fans of film noir. What makes it stand out amongst the endless list of B-movie noirs is the extremely gritty tone, and the sadistic, sociopathic character of Steve, coldly played to perfection by Tierney. This is noir at its nastiest. Steve will do anything to simply buy himself more time, including drowning a woman in plain sight. Sure, there are problems - the film is far too short at a mere 60 minutes and could do with some more character development, and Joe's tagging along with the police seems a bit silly - but this is a tightly wrapped quickie that leaves its mark regardless. If you can find it, I would urge you to see it, as although there are plenty of much better noirs out there, this is a fine example of how directors could get away with nasty themes and despicable characters if they placed them in a noir setting. Tough, impressive stuff.


Directed by: Felix E. Feist
Starring: Lawrence Tierney, Ted North, Nan Leslie
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie