The Range Busters, No. 24 - Bullets and Saddles (1943)

“Previously on The Range Busters…”

Following the completion of a narratively-stagnant, racist entry called Haunted Ranch, The Range Busters were split up as a result of World War II. Newcomer David Sharpe shipped out on a mission to personally slaughter Hitler. This, the series could recover from. But also leaving them was John “Dusty” King, the series’ sole marquee name for the past four films, ever since whiny beast Ray “Crash” Corrigan bowed out over salary issues. Only Max “Alibi” Terhune remained, and he was no star on his own – the man was comic relief, at “best.” But who on earth could they find to replace their two losses?

(Rex Lease, who’d replaced Sharpe halfway through Haunted Ranch, was also MIA, because he was too boring to even appear as the second-billed in fourth tier “trigger trio” westerns.)

Well, how ‘bout Ray “Crash” Corrigan? Apparently satisfied at last (in a resolution that is sadly unrecorded in all Range Busters material I can find), Corrigan took over headlining the franchise he himself had created through a series of legal rip-off loopholes. Crash was back, prepubescents across our great nation rejoiced, and the series was…still in its death throes, but on life support for four more entries.

But Corrigan was replacing Sharpe, who didn’t mean much to the franchise, really. With King gone too, someone else’ll hafta be found. That’ll be Dennis “Denny” Moore, an actor of exceptional blandness who was only still a civilian because former airplane crash injuries kept him out of the army. And Terhune was too fat, and potentially psychotic. What was Corrigan’s excuse?

No matter. Four more films would be made, until Corrigan grew uncooperative again and shut the entire franchise down – he controlled the “Corriganville” film set, after all, and held the legal rights to it. We’ll see why…after these film considerations:

Land of Hunted Men (1943) – This late in the game, they’ve seemingly run out of unique forms of Old West villainy. The bad guys are now robbing the mail – hell, The Three Mesquiteers succumbed to the same lame plot in their later years, in Pals of the Pecos. This one change aside, this sounds no different from any other entry. As always, a black-clad, (wispy) mustachioed evil businessman is overseeing the robbery of his own business, for confused and nebulous reasons. As always, the Range Busters pursue a distinct pattern of horse chases and shootouts in order to “cleverly” unearth the dastard. In the end, good is victorious.

And Fred “Snowflake” Toones is back as Snowflake, The Range Busters’ dignity-free black stereotype. That means Land of Hunted Men is helplessly offensive. And despite Snowflake’s apparent plot importance, of course he is credited last. Ay-yah!

Cowboy Commandos (1943) – Nazis! Yes! Of course, the non-combatant Range Buster actors are trying to “do their part” by defeating the Third Reich in fiction, this time quelling their efforts to sabotage a magnesium mine. For you see, without magnesium, the U.S. would lose WWII!...Sure. Wait, was this thing paid for by the Magnesium Advisory Council?!

Black Market Rustlers (1943) – Villainous cattle rustlers are running amok, and it’s up to the Range Busters to – Okay, whatever, I don’t care. Next!

And now we come to the last, final, ultimate, conclusive Range Busters film, part 24 out of 24, Bullets and Saddles (1943). And what joy, rather than guess about how awkward things have gotten here at the end, I get to watch this thing for myself. This should be instructive…


Villainous cattle rustlers are running amok, and it’s up to the Range Busters to – Okay, seriously, you’re going back to this well again? Ugh, methinks they were just running out the contract clock so they could legally conclude this series – the inspiration was sorta nonexistent by now.

So the main lesson learned from Bullets and Saddles is that, here at the end, they weren’t even trying. This is sort of the ür Range Buster entry, as there is absolutely nothing in here which cannot be found in some other entry. I swear, this might as well just be the standard franchise script template, unadorned, and filmed. We got our standard nogoodery, with no motive or justification. An innocent man is framed most conveniently for the rascals’ rapaciousness, and the Range Busters are called in to fix things. Here, the villains take on an inexplicable concern with killing the man they’ve framed, forgetting all about their initial motivations. Eventually, post-romance and puppet terror, the Range Busters simply luck into discovering the rapscallions’ villainies, then defeat them the only way our heroes know how: with face punching. Snore!


Okay, let’s see what I can draw from my notes (having completely forgotten about the film itself, immediately post-viewing)…Well, bad guy = Evil Businessman. Ho-hum! Also, he’s played by Glenn Strange, whom I’ve grown tired of as well. Ho-hum!

…

…

Actually, you know what, this is perhaps the least inspiring film I’ve yet seen for this blog project. I swore I wouldn’t do this (often), but the time has come to simply quote myself. What follows, from here on out, are simply the notes I made while watching this boring, boring, bland, bland movie. Skip over this tripe if you so desire. That’s basically what I’m doing…

“Cattle rustling happens. Cabins burned. Shootouts in the streets. General chaos of filmmaking.

Marshal Claiburn (Forrest Taylor) debates stopping renegades, led by Jack Hammond (Glenn Strange, erstwhile Range Buster heavy). In comes Laura Craig (Julie Duncan) to report violence to father Charley Craig (Budd Buster).

Town set. Baddies. They see to Hammond in his Evil Businessman Offices. Later, Claiburn tips off Hammond about the Craig vigilante posse a-raisin’ – Claiburn’s in Hammond’s pocket. The posse group called Craig’s list – whoa!

Henchmen trail Charley to ranch set. Finding Landers’s corpse (who?), Charley pegged (framed) for murder.

Later, Mother Craig (Rose Plummer) and Laura fret over what happened. She wants Range Busters to help. (She helped raise Crash.)

Trio chats in wilderness about Mother. Alibi horse chase is now happening. After a nogoodnik of sorts. To go help Mother now, goon gone.

Craig Ranch, Mother tells trio of generic problems. Alibi to go investigate in town, as usual.

Alibi in town w/ Elmer. Sees a mob raising in saloon, to demand an arrest of Charley (he’s still at home yet). Alibi does same ventriloquist act as always to fret the goons – script recycling at its finest. Meeting w/ Hammond.”

“Wilderness, a bushwhack on buckboard busybody (Charley). Baddie bides time, is caught. At gunpoint by Charley, who wants confession. They fistfight before goon lair. Charley escapes, is chased off at length. Escape.

Ranch, harmonica played by Denny. A whole tune.

Trio spies on I’m not paying attention. (Hammond.) He visits the Craigs for Charley. Denny sends Hammond on his way. Crash suspects this a distraction so baddies can hunt for Charley. (Mother an old warhorse, most interesting character in whole franchise by far!)”

“Trio rides, finds Charley in a ditch by overturned buckboard.

Ranch, night. No, saloon. Or someplace. Eh. Hammond schemes. Crash captured outside, brought in. Fights way out, flees on horse in extreme darkness.”

“Ranch, Charley taken here, henchman here to get him. Gun standoffs. Something happens.

Hammond rides. Er…trio creeps around shack lair, to overhear Hammond’s latest scheming – to burn ranch, kill all. Forget even why the baddies are doing all this nonsense.

Ranch, Alibi torments captured henchman. Story of turning state’s evidence. Mother. She gets goon to spill proverbial beans.

Denny and Crash chat by horses. Plan an ambush with cattle for next rustling.

Shack lair, Hammond assembles rustler goons.

Setting too dark to tell, characters creep. Setting ranch house on fire. Trio around someplace.

Day thank God, baddies ride. All ride all over wherever the hell. Trio hides in a cave. Ambush takes place, shootout erupts. Then a horse chase happens – END! END! NOW! Sheriff’s (er, Marshal’s) men arrive, help round up Hammond’s men.

Ranch, apparent success, Laura never romanced, plot never twisted, Mother satisfied. The end!”

*************************************************************

While I could postulate as to why The Range Busters ceased to be – WWII, the slow dissolution of B-filmmaking, general crappiness – I have to think Ray Corrigan most responsible for the end. After all, his big business goal by 1943 was to transform his Corriganville ranch and film set into a Southern California theme park – these being the days before Disneyland, all he could think of doing was a cheap, Monogram-esque knock off of Knott’s Berry Farm.

It took Corrigan until 1949 to get Corriganville safe enough to allow countless children access – children whom I’m certain Max Terhune was veeery happy to see. You see, wither Corrigan, wither Terhune, his obedient little hound. Thus both men weathered the devolution from Mesquiteers to Range Busters to performers at a short-lived Simi Valley tourist destination. There, Corrigan would do variations on his admittedly good stunts, while Terhune would “entertain” youngsters with the vile Elmer, hardening their souls up in readiness for the dread Howdy Doody.

Throughout the later 40s, whenever Corrigan wasn’t working on Corriganville, he was dressed up in a gorilla suit, rampaging all over Hollywood movie sets – sometimes he was even paid for it. (What an ignominious fate for a major B-western star.)

The story of The Range Busters, such as it is now (we’ve made it to the 1950s in our chronology), is purely the story of Corriganville. The place still did occasional film shoots, and remained open to impressionable youths up until 1965. Then it was purchased by Bob Hope of all people, who used the land for tract housing and motorcycle races – man, life is odd. A fire rampaged through the land in the late 70s, and now it’s just another piece of easily-burned Southern California wilderness, where I’ve almost certainly fought a fire at one point or another.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. How appropriate that, withered and barely recognizable, the last physical vestiges of The Range Busters succumbed to flames and returned to the earth. In its weird and indirect way, this offers closure to the great, bizarre Range Busters saga which cannot be found in a mere film. To get really pretentious, it’s even a metaphor for the western genre as a whole (love it though I do). And we’ll always have the DVDs, and the public domain host sites online, there to offer 45.833% of the series for our viewing delectation.

I’ll be seein’ ya, folks.


Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 11 Underground Rustlers (1941)
• No. 13 Rock River Renegades (1942)
• No. 16 Arizona Stagecoach (1942)
• No. 17 Texas to Bataan (1942)
• No. 18 Trail Riders (1942)
• No. 20 Haunted Ranch (1943)

The Range Busters, No. 20 - Haunted Ranch (1943)

It’s amazing just how many old B-movies use the “Scooby Doo” plot. I swear, as of Haunted Ranch, every single 30s and 40s franchise I’ve made it through uses this idea. We all know how it goes, but again I must reiterate. Various tired and standard hauntings are occurring at…some place, and in a final “twist,” it is revealed as a hoax. Some do-badder has been scaring people away from the property, with the intent to himself discover the treasure that is surely hidden there.

There has to be a reason for this proliferation of ersatz hauntings, apart from sheer laziness. Just like the idiotic modern foofaraw about how “Harry Potter” would turn a generation into wiccans, so did conservative Depression Era audiences fear the very presence of the supernatural in their fiction. Hell, even Universal Horror often feints to the realm of the rational, seriously undercutting their stories at all times. So the “Scooby” twist allows a storyteller to wallow in ghostly goodness for the better part of a tale, only to dismiss it all at the end. It’s like the family friendly message so many dark comedies ultimately embrace.

And The Range Busters, as a B-western series, is even more astoundingly conservative than most media from its era. Hence, Haunted Ranch (which I pegged as a “Scooby” entry from the title alone), cannot even hold its wad and preserve the world-shattering “twist” until the end. No, mere moments after we’re informed of the existence of a haunted ranch (by means other than the title, that is), the bad guys are revealed. Indeed, there is supposed treasure on the old Reno Red ranch – bullion he stole from the Denver banks – and the villains are making generic ghost noises (that is, basically just playing the accordion) to scare off interlopers. This gives them the freedom to hunt for the treasure at their leisure. And, if big bad baddie Rance Austin (Glenn Strange, a horrible Frankenstein monster) is any indication, most of this time is spent in the saloon, repeatedly expositing about everything they’re doing.

Oh yeah, this plot is considered so confusing (for the dim-witted Range Buster target audience) that it needs to be re-explained every 8 minutes.

And since the “Scooby” twist is so spectacularly bungled, several more “plot twists” shall be thrown our way throughout the entry – none of ‘em ever work, which makes this a greatly stagnant affair.


In seemingly unrelated news, the Range Busters (John “Dusty” King, Davy Sharpe and Max “Alibi” Terhune, all playing same-named caricatures) learn that Uncle Abe, whoever that is (there’s a new circle of friends and family in each entry), has perished. Due to a pure sense of plotdar on Dusty’s part, the trio rides to oversee the settling of the estate.

This leads them, randomly, into a shootout between Rance’s thugs and some other man. The other man, who is mortally wounded, is Hank Travis, one of Abe’s survivors. So Rance is after Abe’s Triangle Ranch as well, meaning – say it with me, folks – Abe and Reno Red were the same person! It’s so obvious, I don’t even know why they try to subterfuge the audience with it, only…the Range Busters won’t figure this out until 75% through. And it’s played like a twist! Hmm, “Scooby” plot, misidentified ranch – The Range Busters aren’t quite doing the plot thing too well, are they?

Dusty continues on to the ranch, while Alibi is charged with going into the town set to dredge up whatever info he and his disgusting doll Elmer can find. Davy, meanwhile, is…Well, the duty he’s tasked with is rather mumbled and understated. When next we see him, Davy is going all Tonto Basin Outlaws and joining up with Theodore Roosevelt’s Rough Riders apropos of nothing (so long, racial equilibrium of…oh wait, I’m thinking of a Three Mesquiteers movie). This random, non sequitur scene has huge meaning for The Range Busters, which I’ll address later.


Over at the “Triangle W,” Dusty is confronted with the spoooooookiest non-Elmer things this franchise can throw at him – an organ which plays itself. Whoooooo! Oogity-boogity! (Actually, it’s just the accordion-playing droog in the basement, because organs and accordions sound exactly the same, apparently.)

And what would a 40s ghost movie be without racist comic relief? Such a thing wouldn’t exist! How do we know something’s “scary” if there isn’t an overwrought, terrified negro stereotype to holler and bug out all the time. Enter “colored boy” (their words) Snowflake, played by Fred “Snowflake” Toones. Oh dear God. And really, “Snowflake”? As Wikipedia puts it, he has a “high-pitched voice and childlike demeanor.” And he is one prolific actor, with roughly 200 films to his roster (most of ‘em uncredited, of course), four times more than the hated Stepin Fetchit. He usually plays a porter – oh yeah. And Snowflake’s first line of dialogue in Haunted Ranch? “Is yous a ghos’?” His second line? “Yassuh, I’s jus’ a jack-in-the-box. Haw haw haw!” Oy! It’s…it’s all so unfortunate.

There’s also the token love interest, Helen Weston (Julie Duncan), in a role so bland, Dusty just entirely plum forgot to romance her – though he does get to sing her his standard song, right in the dead center of all the hauntings: “Where the Prairie Hills Meet the Sky.” I tuned out during that segment.

But getting back to Snowflake: It’s a good thing he’s here, really, insensitivity or no, because it lets us know when something is supposed to be frightening. (It’s like Mantan Moreland, kinda.) That’s essential, because there is absolutely nothing in Haunted Ranch to be terrified of…


YAEIIARRRGHHH! Holy hell, it’s Elmer! And proving a broken clock is right twice a day (that “clock” being either Snowflake, or the film as a whole), Snowflake gets to say the sanest thing about Elmer that’s ever been uttered: “What kind of thing is that?!”

Now, Helen is Reno Red’s (excuse me, “Uncle Abe’s”) other inheritor, now that one guy is now dead. (That guy was called Hank, by the way, and Dusty is now pretending to be him in another standard 40s story type – “Three’s Company.”) In part of Red’s very strangely-phrased will, it states that she is to keep sought-after possession of the haunted ranch only if – she spends one night within its walls. Mwah hah HAH! [Lightning cracks!]…No, wait, I was kidding. Only if she learns how to play Red’s (er, Abe’s) favorite tune on his organ. Hmm, I wonder why the will stipulated that… Say it with me, everyone – The organ is hiding Red’s loot! (Thoughts drift to the wicked harpsichord in The Goonies.) Here’s another “twist” I pegged a full half hour before its reveal.

No matter, Helen (and Dusty) spend the better part of the storyline playing all sorts of public domain tunes on the organ – “Red River Valley,” “My Darling Clementine,” western tunes so obvious, I totally don’t even hear them when played. And Snowflake’s there, to leap like an asshole whenever a creak is heard, and to tell Helen every song is wrong. Because he was Red’s (Abe’s) former indentured you-know, but is also fully too “wantin’ fer not bein’ shif’less” to be of any help. Sweet Ford, why are this films so casually tactless?!

Meanwhile, along comes Alibi with a meta franchise shakeup of tremendous importance. See, Davy’s off with the Army now – In real life, Davy Sharpe was indeed with the U.S. Army Air Forces, ready to massacre Huns all over WWII Europe! In fact, he just up and left partway through Haunted Ranch, because here’s one actor who thinks national security is a tad sight more important than a contract with Monogram Pictures. (All this while Ray Corrigan, the man Sharpe had replaced, was pouting in a corner about wanting a bigger trailer.)


Everyone, meet our halfway Davy replacement, Rex Lease (Rex Lease – how ‘bout that Range Buster namin’ policy?). (Lease is the white blur on the right of the image above.) And amongst all the Range Busters, Lease is surely the most inconsequential – he has a whole half-entry to his credit, that half-entry being this very wreck. Naturally, he’s wantin’ for a personality, and is mostly relegated to being “like Dusty, but ‘thout the singin’.” But we gotta have three leads to call this a “trigger trio” (that faux-Mesquiteer subgenre of the B-western), so welcome onboard, Rex.

Okay, so where were we? Well, the “haunted” ranch is pretty danged crowded now, so Rance decides to cease expositing the storyline to his droogies and do something about it. He heads out, and has the sheriff arrest Dusty – who’s still pretending as Hank, a wanted man. This course of action makes ultimately little logical sense, even by the villains in this franchise. Rance waits until the sheriff has Dusty away in a cell, then tries to murder him (the sheriff). The only reason for this is an excuse for a shootout – Alibi and…Rex come to the rescue. Dusty is freed, but Rance escapes. So…that accomplished nothing, except…now the Range Busters know who the bad guy is. Meaning, some 75% through, they also know there is a bad guy. (We’re nearing the end of the franchise, which is when such inexplicable oversights become common.)


There’s little else for the film to do, except to explain out the plot twists I solved some several paragraphs prior – this is even done by Rance’s anonymous henchmen, not the Range Busters. Way to be useless, Dusty and Alibi and other guy! So it’s they who discover that Red’s organ has strange knobs on it (ewww!). Of course no more than one sane thought is every permitted per individual in these films, so they’re no closer to making Red’s organ spill forth its golden treasure (ewww!).

Soon enough the whole cast has reconvened in front of the organ (which occupies the lower quarter of the screen for about 49.43% of this film). It’s basically a replay of the showdown between Range Busters and Rance from before, only now with more face-punching. And in such matters, the Range Busters never lose. So they win.


And Snowflake, surprisingly enough, solves the grand mystery of identifying Red’s favorite song. It was “Little Brown Jug.” Okay, everyone, show’s over!

It’s kinda buried in the middle, but undoubtedly the most interesting thing about Haunted Ranch is that is does the traditional actor shakeup in the middle of the movie. This was, of course, in response to Sharpe’s sudden surge of patriotic usefulness. It must’ve been catching, because this also marks John “Dusty” King’s final Range Busters role. He would join Sharpe overseas, where both men would shoot Nazis and bang Frenchwomen.

Only Max “Alibi” Terhune would remain with the series, not out of some unpatriotic fervor, but because he almost certainly would qualify for 4-F. This fat, puppet-obsessed lunatic was deemed unfit for battle. So the poor weirdo would serve out the rest of his days with The Range Busters. Still, a full two other men were needed to round out the trio, and keep this from being The Creepy Ventriloquist Rapist Show. Tomorrow we’ll round out the final four Range Busters films, and see just who these two un-Americans are…


Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 11 Underground Rustlers (1941)
• No. 13 Rock River Renegades (1942)
• No. 16 Arizona Stagecoach (1942)
• No. 17 Texas to Bataan (1942)
• No. 18 Trail Riders (1942)
• No. 24 Bullets and Saddles (1943)

The Range Busters, No. 18 - Trail Riders (1942)

The David Sharpe “era” continues, as Trail Riders puts him halfway through his tenure. Too bad, after the shot of relative adrenaline that was Texas to Bataan, that Trail Riders leaves me more thoroughly uninspired than anything this franchise has yet offered – it’s been mostly a slow draining of enthusiasm (or content to write about) throughout, which will likely prove a common problem for many a series.

So what can be said of Trail Riders? Well, it is really generic, just the guys up against the usual band of ruffians, with the same plot developments, love interest, action sequences and resolutions as always. The one notable thing about it is David Sharpe, and even he isn’t new! But I can at least say my peace about his performance, as I’m no longer being distracted by Nazis: Sharpe is…he’s mediocre. He fits this film perfectly. He’s young, very young, and does good stunts (Sharpe was a stuntman foremost), and does not sing. There’s not much he can offer The Range Busters until the long-delayed return of Ray Corrigan (never thought I’d miss that guy). Sigh.


Well, let’s be quick about this nonsense, because I’ll only regain my interest in this franchise by purging myself of Trail Riders – zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Explosions! The crime today: bank robbery. Sure, I guess we haven’t seen that one in…like, a few days. Again, the bank manager is secretly orchestrating these robberies, and even kills the Marshal of Gila Springs in the process. This leaves the Marshal’s father with but one option: call in the Range Busters - zzzzzzzzzzzz…

It doesn’t help my stupor that the Range Busters themselves are simply trying to sleep their way through this entry too. Well, “Dusty” King (himself) is. “Alibi” Terhune (himself) is more keen on making animal noises all day long, something I ceased doing when I was 4, aided by his murderous death doll Elmer Sneezeweed (itself). So word makes it to the trio via telegram that Gila Springs is under assault by - zzzzzzzzzzzz…

…

Zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Wazzat! You mean they built an actual Old West town set! That was one of my chief complaints about this whole series, that Corriganville was lacking for the one thing all westerns need the most. Well, it seems Ray Corrigan, in his self-imposed exile, oversaw that one glowing defect in his movie ranch, because there’s now an actual Main Street!

The Range Busters ride into town and - zzzzzzzzzzzz…

They are thrown out! Seems the bad guy’s goons (the bad guy, for what it’s worth, is Ed Cole – Charles King) don’t want no heroes in their - zzzzzzzzzzzz…


Man, that guy’s FAT!

The Range Busters are busy riding back home, again saying “Screw it” to this entry, same as me, when…

Suddenly Clara Clayton (Mary Steenburgen) is trapped upon a runaway buckboard, which is clear on its way towards Shonash Ravine – or is it Clayton Ravine – or maybe Eastwood Ravine…Wait, that’s Back to the Future Part III, which I really wish I was writing about. Actually, the gal’s Mary Rand (Evelyn Finley), but the situation is pretty much just the same. So the Doc and Marty – excuse me, the Range Busters [sigh!] ride to save Mary as – zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Horse chase # 1 – zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Only she wasn’t in danger, just drivin’ her buckboard all fast-like, just like those heathen 1942 teened-agers and their dagblasted jalopies. And she’s mad at the Range Busters for their attempted aid, so…Dusty and Alibi are arrested by that fat, fat man, because this series has grown desperate enough for a plot that it’s just having its good guys mistaken for bad guys entirely without justification or logic (see also Arizona Stage Coach). Davy (Sharpe) is not arrested though, ‘cause this series is swiftly evolving into “Three’s Company,” but rather rides home with Mary in order to romanc- zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Horse chase # 2 – zzzzzzzzzzzz… (Also, it’s just the same music, and the same shots mirrored – 나락에 신 제기랄 모두!)


Plot? What plot? Bank robbers who? Shut up, you ASS, Dusty’s singin’! It’s “Oh, Suzannah,” even, that old public domain standard about having come from Alabama, a banjo resting upon the singer’s knee the whole time. In what passes for creativity, per this sub-sub-sub-sub-Bubsy Berkeley nonsense, there is indeed a banjo on Dusty’s knee while he sings this. Mary hears the melodious crooning coming from within the anachronistic tool shed Dusty is ensconced in, and forgets all about her erstwhile love affair with Davey in order to – zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Along comes Mary’s brother, Jeff, who is the man Davy fruitlessly pursued in one of the former horse chases. He sees him again, so –

Horse chase # 3 – zzzzzzzzzzzz…

…

It turns out Jeff has been blackmailed by Cole to act all villainous- zzzzzzzzzzzz…

…

Sorry, it’s my problem, I’m the one who can’t focus. Maybe something of interest will pop u-


AAH SWEET HOLY MERCIFUL 나락, ELMER IS BACK! YAEEEIIIEEE!!!

Okay, a brief surge of terror is enough to get me back on track. Well, back on track long enough to make note of the climax…which has come about through plot developments I no longer remember, and don’t have the wherewithal to parse out from my notes. And that climax, it’s…a shootout on Main Street. The “shootout” part is wildly generic and overdone, but Range Buster-wise the Main Street setting makes things a scant, scant bit more interesting. It’s still 1/1000th the Old West shootout that Open Range boasts at its climax, so I’ll just say…to 나락 with Trail Riders, why don’t you go watch Open Range if you haven’t seen it?

For really, that film boasts one of the greatest classical-style action sequences of the past decade, while Trail Riders’ climax just looks like this:


Zzzzzzzzzzzz…

…

OH YEAH! Let’s get this out of the way now rather than at the start of the next write-up…There is, yet again, a Range Busters film I seemingly cannot find. Oh well, time to dismiss it in a single paragraph:

Two Fisted Justice (1943) – Wells Fargo asks the aid of the Range Busters, in order to stop a series of daring stagecoach robberies that – Waitaminute! This is just Arizona Stage Coach again, isn’t it? Only with David Sharpe now appearing, in place of girly-man “Crash” Corrigan.

Wow, that was even easier to dismiss than I’d expected.


Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 11 Underground Rustlers (1941)
• No. 13 Rock River Renegades (1942)
• No. 16 Arizona Stagecoach (1942)
• No. 17 Texas to Bataan (1942)
• No. 20 Haunted Ranch (1943)
• No. 24 Bullets and Saddles (1943)

The Range Busters, No. 17 - Texas to Bataan (1942)

Ray “Crash” Corrigan, owner of the fabled Corriganville ranch and brainiac responsible for the mere concept of The Range Busters (after having stolen the general notion from Republic Pictures), sure must’ve been a pissy guy. He’d previously been a big western star for The Three Mesquiteers, a Republic B-series which is more or less exactly what The Range Busters is – only it was made first. It was Corrigan’s supposed monetary mistreatment at the hands of Republic’s accountants which caused him to leave the Mesquiteer stables, and then copy them directly. And his Range Buster setup sure must’ve been sweet: Not only did Corrigan own the land the films were made on, and he was the star, but he also made 50% of the series’ box office take (according to some sources…such as Ray Corrigan himself).

But apparently this still wasn’t enough for His High Majesty. Noooo, now The Range Busters weren’t paying him enough (hell, he probably wanted all the profits, not understanding that whole “collaborative” part of filmmaking). No matter, by 1942 Ray Corrigan left the series in a bitchy, drama queen huff, PO’ed over his…God, whatever Corrigan was upset about. Yeah, while American soldiers were bravely fighting the Third Reich, Ray Corrigan was leaving his own franchise over inconsequential monetary matters. Ass.


Therefore The Range Busters’ seventeenth entry, Texas to Bataan, sees the first actor shakeup. Exit Ray, enter stuntman David Sharpe. Here he plays “Davy” Sharpe, because The Range Busters were never ones for creative character names, and damned if Ray’s gonna let some upstart stuntman punk steal his valuable, valuable name. (Kind of wonderfully, Sharpe’s long career in Hollywood would cap off with Blazing Saddles, which handily roasts the Corrigan oaters.)

Therefore also, John “Dusty” King now has the top billing. It’s actually very similar to Robert Livingston’s promotion following Corrigan’s pissy abandonment of The Three Mesquiteers.

As always, in like every B-western I’ve ever seen, Max “Alibi” Terhune is billed third.

There’s also a new hack director now (for what little difference it makes), Robert Emmett Tansey. Apparently hack S. Roy Luby left with Corrigan, waiting until his star’s menstrual cycle was over. (Oh yeah, Corrigan’ll be back…four films from now.)

Texas to Bataan barely needs this exciting behind-the-scenes shakeup to give it something worth discussing – after a seemingly endless sequence of ultra-generic entries. For it’s 1942 now, the U.S. is well quagmired in WWII, and just about every serialized film character imaginable is employed fighting the Huns and Japs. Oh yeah, this is a contemporary entry (I’ve never even questioned this chronologically unbound series), struggling to find some way of connecting western tropes in with the War. (See also the Mesquiteers’ The Phantom Plainsmen.)


Okay, so we start with the Range Busters angrily desecrating caricatures of Hitler and Mussolini. (Hirohito inexplicably makes it out of this damning, soul-shattering commentary, even though the film concerns the Pacific theater – spoiler.) And, you know, cowboy hicks like the Range Busters aren’t quite an anachronism in 1942 – I mean, look at Texas today. Still, how do you keep your characters in their usual rural setting, and still have ‘em stomp the Huns and nip the Nips?

Spies! Hell, it’s always the answer, as it’s easier than filming battles. And, well, every facet of running the U.S. took on an added importance in the war years – even our self-aggrandizing nebulous cowboy trios had importance now. And if they’re herding horses and/or cows for the U.S. Army (it’s a little confused), well, enemy spies could always try fluoridating our eatin’ horses!

The Busters work on the Conroy Ranch with the usual father/daughter team – the female half, Dallas (Marjorie Manners), is the love interest. This means at some point the story will be put on hold for 5 whole minutes so Dusty can sing a love song at her – “Goodbye Old Paint,” a romantic song about a pony presumably named “Paint.” Combine that with the song Dusty sings (and wrote) at the opening (“Me and My Pony”) – they’ve sort of escaped the tyranny of the love song, only to replace it with something vaguely bestial.

But I’m over-interpreting this stuff from a sick, cynical modern perspective. That still doesn’t excuse repeated descriptions of the Range Busters as “gay caballeros,” or the fact that the Ds, Dusty and Davy, sleep together in one bed.

That’s to say nothing of the repeated Elmer Horror. Warning: I will get back to laughing at the pop culture of WWII soon, but first I have to run a terrifying image of Alibi’s heartless, demonic hell doll, and accompany it with an in-depth discussion of the brute.


Now, the past half dozen or so Range Busters have been slowly, almost imperceptibly increasing Elmer Sneezeweed’s personal autonomy. We’ve seen the thing “speak” before, but it’s always been attributable to Alibi’s ventriloquism and voice throwing – this goes back to The Three Mesquiteers, for Elmer is like Robbie the Robot in his cross-continuity celebrity, and unintentional terror.

Then Elmer started moving on his own, even without Alibi in physical contact with his heathen, wooden paramour. The voice throwing was still going on, so one could simply write this off with, say, some sort of steampunk mechanism in the puppet’s innards, or something.

But Elmer soon took on vocal skills totally independent of Alibi’s own voice throwing. He was still present, at least, in these hideous incidents, though now the horror was unmistakable. Alibi, at the very best, was suffering some severe schizophrenia, chatting with his inanimate object like a common member of Batman’s Rogue Gallery.

Ah, but NOW! Now, Elmer is inarguably independent. Before, only Alibi conversed with his eerily sentient marionette, meaning it was just a manifestation of a sick mind’s hallucinations. But now all the Range Busters are casually conversing with the hateful monster (whose first line in this entry is “massacre ‘em all,” clear evidence of the doll’s psychotic murderousness). Even the minor characters are chatting away, and no one ever takes the slightest offense to this unnatural, immoral manifestation. The only explanation is that The Range Busters’ universe has passed through some sort of wormhole and been deposited in a world of Lovecraftian terrors, with Elmer serving as the Eldritch gods’ emissary. Yeah, that’s obviously the only explanation.

At least the doll isn’t walking around yet…


Oh right, WWII! So there’s been this truck racin’ across the Corriganville estate, and doings have transpired long enough that the Range Busters decide to investigate…well, except for Alibi, who’s too old to do many stunts now, and too busy off screen preparing sacrifices for his pagan idol Elmer. It’s horse chase time, which is just about the only action sequence to be found in this entry – to counter the overload of stagecoach robberies in Arizona Stage Coach. (The truck’s villainy, it must be said, is transporting dynamite and Japanese rifles – meaning the reason the Range Busters are fighting spies has moved right back in to “random.”)

And I tell you, it sure is odd seeing western archetypes sharing the screen with gangster movie stereotypes – for that’s what The Range Busters think (totally hypothetical) Japanese spies would look like…They’re even Caucasians! Veeeery Japanese.

No, wait, there’s one genuinely Japanese spy creeping about – that’d be Old Man Conroy’s manservant Cookie (some guy named freaking Escolastico Baucin!), whom everyone previously thought was from the Philippines. And really, Cookie? Uh oh, they’re dabblin’ in racism! (Indeed, the moment Cookie is outed as a Nippon, all our noble Caucasian leads instantly start espousing the merits of anti-Asian internment camps….Nice one, guys.)

The home front spy ring stuff is resolved rather ahead of time, even considering the oft scant running times The Range Busters boast (53 whole minutes today!). Only Cookie has crumbled away, probably back off to Japania, or whatever these people think Japan is called. So we’ve got a full 20 minutes left, and that’s even with nuclear-force filler already employed – filler such as Dusty’s many songs, and the longest, slowest, most repetitive horseback chases the genre has yet to grant me. So what can we do to stretch things out further?

Stock footage? It seems the U.S. Army has arrived on behalf of the plot, and charged the Range Busters with accompanying a delivery of special Army horses to the Philippines – these horses are to somehow aid the U.S. war effort in Asia, presumably as food. And I swear, I’ve seen enough 40s B-movies in the past several months, and I keep thinking I’ve seen the mightiest stock footage montage possible. These films keep proving me wrong, with its full five minutes of ships at sea and horses on cranes.

The stock footage still somehow doesn’t take as much time as needed. That means let’s just blank out the screen, and slowly, slowly flash the names of all the ports between, yup, Texas and Bataan. Galveston. Havana. Panama. Honolulu. Wake. Guam. Philippines. Man, it’s like a PowerPoint!


The Range Busters are in the Philippines now…or a Hollywood soundstage, at any rate. Though, to be honest, that’s actually a step up for The Range Busters. This is expansive, by Buster terms, coming close to the cheaper Charlie Chan entries. So we get a cabana restaurant set, filled with faux bamboo and all the Asian “actors” the producers could amass on their way to the internment camps. To this setting Alibi brings his freaking doll, which wouldn’t even seem normal if I weren’t horrified of it. Like the Ugly Americans they are, they instantly force the native band to play “Home on the Range,” allowing Dusty another unrequested opportunity to croon at us all.

Then, plot momentum stalled for quite some time now, Cookie randomly strolls into the café – this is the “justification” for the film’s first 35 minutes, because otherwise the Range Busters surely wouldn’t recognize this dastard. Meaning surely they wouldn’t start an impromptu barroom brawl (frankly, the best this series has offered), and then they surely wouldn’t nab a massive cabal of Japs and Nazis and Mussolinites all palling around together, as was the Axis’ wont. Well done, I guess, Range Busters.

But there’s still 6 minutes left ‘til 53, and the production’s been kicked out of the soundstage. Oh Gaaaaaawd! So it turns out Davy, who’s been granted the primary plot utility on account of it’s his first entry, overhears Cookie naming a further spy – way back in Texas. One reversed stock footage voyage across 6,000 nautical miles later and –


They’re having a fistfight with un-American sleeper agent Richards (fatso Frank Ellis), and seemingly his goon squad (because all Buster baddies have goon squads). Well, that filled out enough more time, let’s call a wrap on this crazy, propagandistic mess.

After the traditional woman abandonment ending, Range Busters style. As usual, neither Dusty nor Davy is willing to take on the token love interest as his beard, so once again Alibi must devise an excuse to draw them away. Only the Japanese have beaten Alibi to the punch, seeing as today happens to be December 7, 1941 – if you don’t recognize that date, seriously, just Google it. The Range Busters all decide to do the right thing, unlike the actors portraying them, and register to fight Yamato.


Man, if only these film had any inter-entry continuity! I’d love to see the Range Busters back out in the Pacific theater as soldiers. Oh course the next entry’ll probably take place in the 19th century instead, so oh well…


Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 11 Underground Rustlers (1941)
• No. 13 Rock River Renegades (1942)
• No. 16 Arizona Stagecoach (1942)
• No. 18 Trail Riders (1942)
• No. 20 Haunted Ranch (1943)
• No. 24 Bullets and Saddles (1943)

The Range Busters, No. 16 - Arizona Stage Coach (1942)

First, the traditional “Range Busters I didn’t watch rundown.”

Boot Hill Bandits (1942) – Bandits are holding up – zzzzzzzzz! Sorry, but every entry is about bandits holding up this or that. (It allows for the same stunts and sets every time.) As something this franchise calls “variation,” this time it’s a mine payroll – as opposed to rancher payrolls or gold shipments. In the trademark “one interesting thing we come up with per entry,” Crash is mistaken for dead early on. Otherwise, I picture it’s just like every other entry.

Texas Trouble Shooters (1942) – Whenever stagecoaches aren’t being held up, a ranch is under nebulous legal attack – that’s the other series plotline. So now it’s the [pulling out my dictionary of most common American last names] Wilson Ranch, which has recently come into a fortune of [pulling out my list of valuable commodities] oil. The expected generic gang of crooks kills Old Man Wilson, and comes up with an impostor to take the place of would-be inheritor Bret Travis. Maybe it’s one o’ them doppelganger type transpirin’s, like in them Three Mesquiteer movies.

As for Arizona Stage Coach [sic], which I did see, guess by that title which Range Buster stock plot they’re going with: Stagecoach robberies, or troubled ranch? Yup, stagecoach robberies it is! So, cutting to the chase, the Range Busters (Ray “Crash” Corrigan, John “Dusty” King and Max “Alibi” Terhune, all as themselves) are called in to put a stop to these daring, uninspiring robberies. Daylight robberies, presumably, though these films never quite distinguish time of day too well.


As always, there isn’t one iota of content here that can fill out a deathly hour of film, so we gotta start wastin’ time early. How ‘bout Dusty sings a song? And because, every few entries, they try forcing in some “variation,” Dusty shall sing this song upside down. That sort of makes up for the musical abortion he commits – I cannot even figure out this tune’s title. Of course, Dusty is as motionless as ever whilst singin’, ‘cause only Gene Kelly could figure out how to dance upside down.

Anyway, the request is put in for the Range Busters, non-deputized civilians that they are, to stop the stagecoach robbers – a Sheriff does exist, but as always is depicted as being, well, a little lazy. Standard pretty girl Dorrie Willard (Nell O’Day) makes this request, based on the Busters’ reputation, which should also tell her one more thing: Crash and Dusty are going to woo her in a love triangle, then both ditch her once the story is over. Right?...Right?

Well…yes and no. There is still something of a romancin’ takin’ place, but it ain’t the focus it’s previously been – methinks Rock River Renegades and Thunder River Feud rather dried up the “love triangle” side of the formula a bit. Really, all that nonsense is simply relegated to the epilogue, ‘cause they’ve got…well, different fish to fry.


Really, the big changeup in Arizona Stage Coach comes from…well, from reusing a plot twist I recall from Rock River Renegades (who knows if the intermittent films employed a similar tact). That twist is…it is…is…Frankly, I barely remember that movie! I do remember thinking of this connection while watching Arizona Stage Coach though, so it must exist. Still, there’s the usual mess of innocent men being framed for robbery, and lynch mobs being aroused to mete out frontier justice to the wrong people (idiots that Range Buster townsfolk always are). The one new “variation” Arizona Stage Coach throws into the mix is…it is…is…Well, golly boy howdy, I plum barely remember this movie!

So…uh…um…There’s a villain! Tim Douglas (Charles King), he is, a villain purely by evidence of his mustache and his role as a businessman – These films stereotype worse than political smear ads. Oddly, when the Range Busters do figure out Tim is the baddie (around halfway through, as per formula, because the main baddie is always seemingly respectable), there isn’t even a big deal of it. It’s assumed the audience will peg him as a villain instantly, by the vague description I just gave, as well as by his relative cast billing.

Tim’s scheme, for what it’s worth, involves his position as the head of the local Bumblefuck Town Wells Fargo. That way, he is able to tell both the robbers and stagecoach driver when and where the next robbery shall be. See, the driver’s in on it too. Actually, like 90% of the town is in on it, to gauge by the ridiculously vast number of henchmen we see. But the mooks never have the same sort of standing as other characters, so citizen-wise they aren’t people – simply obstacles for the Range Busters to overcome.


All this is so very generic, my notes wind up describing events like “Someone goes to someplace and does something.” There are creeping hints that my ennui re: The Range Busters is a franchise-wide problem, exacerbated by inherent problems with how these films were made. See, as noted in former write-ups, all The Range Buster movies were filmed at Corrigan’s Corriganville ranch, in the Los Angeles mountains – these mountains themselves are becoming problematic for my viewing pleasure, since that’s where I once worked – as a firefighter. In the four or so variation-free standard horse chases Arizona Stage Coach vomits our way, every single one takes place on the exact same fire road – it’s clearly a fire road, as the tire tracks are plainly visible (though this entry manages keep power lines from appearing in the background). I even think I worked on those fire roads.

But my challenge with the mountains is a personal problem, the sort of odd issue all residents of L.A. must deal with, movie-wise. No, the overuse of the Corriganville set is what I really want to address. For a place that was conceived as an all-purpose movie set (and later pre-Disneyland theme park – Yeah right!), Corriganville is surprisingly lacking in variation – it’s like the physical manifestation of these films themselves! Let me see if I can work out all the potential sets available:

- The horse corral. Usually used to represent a ranch, even more usually the Range Busters’. That today it’s the villains’ ranch, that just confuses matters.

- The saloon. A good place for fights and exposition. Also, where mobs form.

- The sheriff’s office. There’s a cell in the back, and an office desk. Move those things around, and you have a readymade bank set (or other interior) as needed.

- The Evil Shack Lair. It’s where the bad guys sit and scheme out their nefarious misdeeds. That it looks like a building most people would store their lawnmower in doesn’t help with the Bondian effect they’re going for (never mind James Bond didn’t exist yet).

- The anachronistic 1940s suburban house. White picket fence, electricity, a mail box, all these are details which distract me from whatever time period these discontinuous films opt to take place in. Usually where the Girl of the Day lives.

- Common props: the stagecoach, buckboard, some horses. With a lack for anything else capable of motion, the action scene possibilities are severely limited.

There’s not even an Old West Main Street! You’d think that essential for a ranch designed specifically for westerns! Oh well, stock footage works just as well.

Now, my problem: I’ve seen these same five places day in and day out throughout my journey through The Range Busters’ oeuvre. With plots, characterization, action, cinematography, etc. already stagnated, even the visuals are rotten. Sometimes the ranch is next door to the suburban house (as in today), sometimes it’s “miles” away. It plays hell with the sort of geographic logic most movie watchers unconsciously develop (like when a character is traveling left, they’re traveling west). The fact that director S. Roy Luby never changes camera setup doesn’t help! You could make one shack look like several, by filming it from, say, the other side. This bit of knowledge escaped The Range Busters.

Further exacerbations arise in Arizona Stage Coach. One set represents two or more settings! Take the Evil Shack Lair, for instance. Here it’s the baddies’ high-tech secret base (that’s a given). But it’s also the Range Buster’s own separate fortress of solitude! There are scenes, towards the climax, where characters ride from one shack lair to the other. It’s damnably confusing, and an example of some pretty poor filmmaking, really.

To give you an idea of how visually unvaried these films are, consider the screen caps. They’re spaced out, from all over the running time – and these are the most interesting visuals I could find! Now, the ones above are bland enough. Those that follow, though, are each separated by 15 or 20 minutes! That the same image could get repeated so often is not a sign of layered meaning (as in, say, all the red in The Sixth Sense), but just creatively stagnant filming. Damn me it’s uninteresting!




And those last two are in the two separate shack lairs. So we see how successful that was.

You know I’ve grown fed up with a series when I descend to this sort of meta consideration.

I could say a little more about the story – I’ve barely addressed the major twists, for they pale in contrast to the surfeit of quality on hand. For what it’s worth, Dorrie’s brother Ernie gets into a shootout with one of the henchmen for stupid reasons, kills him, then rides into town with his loot for equally stupid reasons. The stupidity compounds so that Ernie is himself accused of the stagecoach robberies. (This frame job was entirely accidental, showing how oddly slanted these plots are.) Then the robbers kidnap Ernie and force him into actually being a robber, to further dig a grave that was already wide open to begin with.

The Range Busters, for their part, partake in some decent illogic in an attempt to bait the robbers. They don’t bait the stagecoach itself, as I’ve seen in about a dozen other B-westerns in the past month. Rather, they clad themselves in black (see several screen caps ago), and rob the stagecoach themselves! This is just – No, I’m not even going to touch this one!

There’s more I could say – the terrifying evolution of Elmer the doll into a genuinely sentient, autonomous being is worthy of note, but I think I’ll save that one for later. Disregarding much of the “specific” content of one Range Busters movie isn’t the end of the world, especially when the vast majority of such a recap would be damnably redundant. At least now I’ve said my fill of the general franchise problems. Perhaps this shall give me the quick energy I need to slog through the remaining innumerable entries.


Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 11 Underground Rustlers (1941)
• No. 13 Rock River Renegades (1942)
• No. 17 Texas to Bataan (1942)
• No. 18 Trail Riders (1942)
• No. 20 Haunted Ranch (1943)
• No. 24 Bullets and Saddles (1943)

The Range Busters, No. 13 - Rock River Renegades (1942)

Here we are, halfway through the 24 films of The Range Busters (what, already?!), and…we…I really don’t have much to say. These movies are moving along swimmingly enough, with an absolute minimum of variation or creativity between entries. This is far beyond formula, folks, well into the realm of engineered stagnation. But after all, television-like afternoon B-western programming was intended to be that way. Consider, audiences in the day were expected to wander the theater rather freely, a form of 40s assholism making up for the lack of texting technology. Films couldn’t be too complicated, or require too much attention for those who wander in at the middle, Donnie-like. In that way, I guess The Range Busters operates to a Bar T.

Again, there is a movie I have not found. So put up with a brief passing over of…

Thunder River Feud (1942) – In ever Buster entry, “Dusty” King and “Crash” Corrigan (themselves…maybe) run through a love triangle with the one-off love interest. This time, it’s the A-plot! And it takes something of a sitcom tact, with each man individually falling for the girl (one Maybelle Pembroke) from a photograph, then traveling out to her ranch. Then, Bad Boys like, they somehow get mistaken for each other. Shenanigans ensue, and “Alibi” Terhune (himself…maybe) at some point implicates himself in the story. (Also, there end up being villains.)

To be found in Thunder River Feud is a henchman named Taggert…which is exactly what the henchmen in Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles was called! WHOO for knowing spoofs!

The following entry, Rock River Renegades (made all of 2 weeks later), takes a similar approach to examining the love triangle element. I love it when a franchise gets creative and experimental with their own formula. Let’s see how it works out here…

Let me start en media res, in order to immediately address the love triangle right out of the gate. We’re gonna need a blandly young attractive woman in this otherwise sausage festival franchise. Today “personality-free love interest” shall be played by Christine McIntyre, in the role of Grace. Now, looking over the cast list, one thinks “Yeah, she’ll be fending off Dusty’s songs, and Crash’s…whatever. Ho hum!” Ah hah, gotcha! She has two men fighting for her affections, but it’s not the Range Busters. Already in place, a priori to the Busters’ bursting in, we have the dual romantic interests of Marshal Luke Graham (Kermit Maynard) – the lawman in over his head with other plot distractions – and Jim Dawson (Weldon Heyburn appearing as Phil Sanford – must be his maiden name) – Dawson is both a well-to-do businessman, and he wears a black hat. Bingo! He’s our villain!

Of that villainy: The idiot town of Rock River (which is itself but a few letters away from Brooks’ Rock Ridge – all hail Blazing Saddles!) is beset by an exceedingly generic gang of all-purpose renegades. They merely shoot guns randomly, rob on occasion, go “Whoo!,” and overall just resemble college freshmen. When you’ve put so much effort into your love triangle (“effort” here being “telling the same story as usual, but with different characters”), naturally the villain’s plotline is gonna be a little stale. Well, staler, really, they’ve never exactly been fresh.

Wherever bland, uninteresting varmintism is running rampant, the Range Busters will be there. Wherever Marshals are overrun by the henchmen of dirty businessmen, the Range Busters will be there. Wherever a pretty woman of birthing age is not in wedlock, the Range Busters will be there. Eh, them or the Three Mesquiteers…or the Rough Riders…or the Trail Blazers…or Texas Rangers…There’s a lot of “trigger trio” franchises!


But first, let’s waste several minutes, and get ever closer to that elusive “The End” title card, by letting Dusty belt out another public domain song. That’ll be “My Darling Clementine,” a song eternally wedded to early westerns…see, well, My Darling Clementine. That’ll do, Dusty, that’ll do.

Out ride Crash and Dusty, Alibi choosing to do his regular Range Buster schtick and not be a part of the plot. Their journey to Rock River puts them in contact with Grace, in a non-starter of a scene – Noteworthy only because a contrived stagecoach robbery scenario allows Crash to perform some of his patented stunt work. If only the scenarists could do something interesting with what are, in isolation, interesting feats. (See the better Three Mesquiteer movies for an example of just this.)


Our duo of Busters (Crash and Dusty are a duo so often, my notes use “duo” to mean only that) meets with Luke, Jim, Grace, et al. Also here is Grace’s father, Dick – whose name also indicates his personality. This old fogey is unreasonably opposed to Luke’s political office for purely selfish, narrow-minded reasons (ah, politics) – and Dick will be a loud, useless “voice of the common man” irritant throughout this tale. Let us speak no more of him.

Naturally, the instant the Range Busters are charged with helping Luke clean up the scum in his fair city, they immediately rush off to go woo Grace. Did they not grok the fundamental shift in formula here? No matter, our humble love triangle is now a love pentangle – approximately three guys are gonna come out of this disappointed. But in a rare act of teamwork, the Range Busters choose to team up to attempt mutual wooing, meaning…for some damn reason, they have Crash lip synch to one of Dusty’s songs (“Prairie Serenade”), which just sort of increases the confusion for everyone. But just like in sitcoms, let us never bring in common logic to examine the biology of farce.


Intermission for Crash (or is it Dusty?) to go to the local saloon, get badmouthed by hoods, punch them, leave. There’s an action checklist for these things – shootout, stagecoach robbery, horse chase, saloon brawl, fistfight – which they dutifully work through each time, proudly allowing the narrative seams to show. And in another apparent embrace of comedy’s worst instincts, Crash defends himself with a seltzer bottle for much of the fight. Wakka wakka!

Around now Alibi shows back up, explaining he’s been working for Dick’s newspaper for the past several months. This extreme, unnecessary plot hole is never adequately patched, even though they actively point it out on screen. Also, Elmer the Hell Dummy (From Hell) has somehow once again maxed out his creepiness – the dread homunculus now moves and speaks of its own accord. At least, we see this happening each time Alibi is left alone with the monster. Perhaps it’s just a manifestation of Alibi’s own fragmenting personality, like the hallucinations in The Lost Weekend or Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Elmer creeps me out, and I shall say no more of him (for today).

The bad guys have an Evil Shack Lair, which is the exact same Evil Shack Lair as in all the past Range Busters, even as the bad guys themselves are largely the same stuntmen (in the same plots, against the same heroes, etc.). There’s so very much that’s consistent, it’s starting to seem less like variations on a theme, and more “passion play,” with these familiar sights and plot points just stations on the cross. (When I start saying such things, I am officially bored with a series – and we’re but halfway through.)

The Buster duo, Crash and Dusty, what are they doing to resolve the plot? Why, they’re fast asleep in the sheriff’s office!

[Okay, I wait 5 minutes.]

Again, what is the Buster duo doing, plot-wise? Why, following some highly obvious tracks back to the Evil Shack Lair. While I am engaged in the act of questioning why the tracks were so obvious, the duo is just nosing about.


Turns out I had the right idea. It was a trap!, as them dastardly varmints are now gonna pin all them recent crimes on the Range Busters (never mind most of the crimes happened before the Range Busters ever came into town). Oh boy, must every B-western show the baddies framing the heroes at some point? Potentially interesting plots go to waste through sheer repetition.

Jim (the sneerable, hiss-worthy robber baron mastermind behind this rash of general thuggery) speechifies before the assembled idiot rednecks of Rock River. He purports the ouster of Marshal Luke, with his own insertion in Luke’s stead. Actually, Jim doesn’t even have to do dick, as Dick is obediently rousing the rabble for him – and Dick isn’t even aware of Jim’s inherent evilness! I’ll bet Dick votes Tea Party.


So an Old West lynch mob is activated, desirous to hang Crash and Dusty like common minorities. Proving bloodthirsty mobs are even more easily puppeteered than, well, puppets, Alibi leads the morons on their charge straight towards Evil Shack Lair. (How’d everyone suddenly know that’s where Crash and Dusty where?! Plot holes, man.) But as Homer Simpson once hypothesized that by being a part of a mob, he could “lead it in wise directions,” so does Alibi actually misdirect his loyal minions. Alibi uses his mob to rescue Crash and Dusty, then ride off to safety with them. (To again go to the Blazing Saddles well: “You are so talented. And they are sooo dumb!”)

Horse chase time.


Having just escaped from Evil Shack Lair…the Range Busters return to Evil Shack Lair. Ummm, what? Well, all the non-mob ruffians are back here, doing whatever, faces just asking to be punched. The Range Busters oblige, fighting off the 10 or so men – who never had a chance! Looking at the time remaining in the film, and being generally genre savvy, I am so unconcerned with the outcome (obvious victory for the Range Busters), I don’t think I even watched the rest. It’s all starting to blur together now. I can assure you that some villain is stopped at the end of Rock River Renegades.

And Grace is wed. To Luke, naturally, even though a moment ago she was right on the altar with Jim (I neglected that plot point out of pointlessness). Eh, any man ’ll do when you’re of marryin’ age! At the very least, this is the first B-western I’ve yet to see for this blog project which actually allows the female lead happiness! By introducing a non-Buster beau for the bride, the writers didn’t have to worry about “snap back” when constructing the romantic subplot. And bully to them for that!

These little details re: Grace are really the only things separating Rock River Renegades from a B-western so generic, I don’t think it actually exists. It’s minor variation as a sop to the audience, as the actors are just having fun dicking around on “Crash” Corrigan’s ranch. Whatever, it fills a Saturday matinee schedule. Good or bad, we’ll be back (because it’s my stupid compulsion)…

And the film knows it’s not over. Ridin’ off, Alibi issues this final warning: “We’ll be seein’ you folks!” Indeed, this isn’t over yet, Range Busters. We’ll meet again. You haven’t seen the last of me!


Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 11 Underground Rustlers (1941)
• No. 16 Arizona Stagecoach (1942)
• No. 17 Texas to Bataan (1942)
• No. 18 Trail Riders (1942)
• No. 20 Haunted Ranch (1943)
• No. 24 Bullets and Saddles (1943)