Wow--Randolph Scott playing a bastard first frame to last. No wonder the movie received such scathing reviews from Scott fans. I liked the film but didn't like Scott's character either--he's self-deluded, stiff-necked, and consumed with a seething hatred that costs his best friend his life. Bart Allison is thoroughly despicable and loathsome, and it's a testimony to Scott's talents that he could play such a character so effectively and evoke such emotions from his audience.
It is also a testimony to Scott's confidence as an actor and to his generosity that he played a secondary character. Noah Beery, Jr. as affable sidekick Sam steals all their scenes together (as he would frequently do to James Garner two decades later on THE ROCKFORD FILES). John Archer, as Doc John Storrow is arguably the real protagonist of the picture, certainly the catalyst who capitalizes on the situation and unleashes and channels all the pent-up emotion simmering in the chests of the townsmen. Thinking back, it's surprising how static a character Bart Allison was, holed up in the livery stable for the bulk of the film, crouching at a window, while Beery and Archer were dynamic and charismatic. And Beery and Archer prove themselves up to the task and carry the picture.
Right behind them were a cast comprised of familiar faces to all fans of the genre, among them Ray Teal as Morley, a cowed-into-submission rancher with his faithful hands (among whom is one-time Western star Bob Steele who merits neither a line nor a screen credit); James Westerfield as Otis, the bartender; Andrew Duggan as Swede, the sheriff in Tate's pocket; Guy Wilkinson as Abe the stable owner; and Vaughn Taylor as an increasingly intoxicated barber who inadvertently puts the match to the powder keg by smashing the bottle of whiskey hidden in the self-righteous reverend's coat pocket. It was upon that cruel act of humiliation, exposing a man's secret weakness, that Doc Storrow seized. He pried open the crack and got the men to admit that they too had a hidden vice--cowardice--and had sacrificed their self-respect out of fear of Tate and his bullying thugs.
Like a bellows on a flickering flame was the cowardly shooting in the back of the unarmed Sam by the vengeful deputy Spanish. Breaking the promise to allow safe passage coupled with shooting a man in the back tapped into something deep within these men of the West, a violation of the Code that held their society, such as it was, intact. Ray Teal as Morley really shines in this scene as his men systematically dismantle Swede's band of bushwhackers stationed around the stable, leveling the field to just Swede and Allison. And once Swede is dispatched, it comes down to Tate and Allison.
Victoria French as Tate's paramour Ruby proves that you only hurt the one you love, or in order to save you I had to shoot you. She takes a tremendous risk in winging Tate to short circuit the shootout, but her love was sincere, even if Tate only saw her as a plaything. French was a much more appealing character than Karen Steele's Lucy, an early sufferer of resting bitch face wholly lacking in charm. It's obvious why Tate was drawn to this woman who was as cold, calculating, and ambitious as himself.
It's a rare Western that ends with the villain of the piece riding off in a carriage with a beautiful woman while the hero gets drunk and unruly at the bar. DECISION AT SUNDOWN was a convention-defying film, and I suspect that is why it receives more bad reviews than good. Randolph Scott playing against type no doubt ruffled feathers, mine included. I wanted to see him play the hero in a clearly defined good guy vs. bad guy scenario, but Scott played out that script in the 1940s and early '50s and was ready to stretch as an actor. This film's scenario--unlikable character rides into town, cleans it up, then rides out again--would be the template for so many 1960's Westerns, both foreign and domestic. It was a Western ahead of its time and one well worth watching.
It is also a testimony to Scott's confidence as an actor and to his generosity that he played a secondary character. Noah Beery, Jr. as affable sidekick Sam steals all their scenes together (as he would frequently do to James Garner two decades later on THE ROCKFORD FILES). John Archer, as Doc John Storrow is arguably the real protagonist of the picture, certainly the catalyst who capitalizes on the situation and unleashes and channels all the pent-up emotion simmering in the chests of the townsmen. Thinking back, it's surprising how static a character Bart Allison was, holed up in the livery stable for the bulk of the film, crouching at a window, while Beery and Archer were dynamic and charismatic. And Beery and Archer prove themselves up to the task and carry the picture.
Right behind them were a cast comprised of familiar faces to all fans of the genre, among them Ray Teal as Morley, a cowed-into-submission rancher with his faithful hands (among whom is one-time Western star Bob Steele who merits neither a line nor a screen credit); James Westerfield as Otis, the bartender; Andrew Duggan as Swede, the sheriff in Tate's pocket; Guy Wilkinson as Abe the stable owner; and Vaughn Taylor as an increasingly intoxicated barber who inadvertently puts the match to the powder keg by smashing the bottle of whiskey hidden in the self-righteous reverend's coat pocket. It was upon that cruel act of humiliation, exposing a man's secret weakness, that Doc Storrow seized. He pried open the crack and got the men to admit that they too had a hidden vice--cowardice--and had sacrificed their self-respect out of fear of Tate and his bullying thugs.
Like a bellows on a flickering flame was the cowardly shooting in the back of the unarmed Sam by the vengeful deputy Spanish. Breaking the promise to allow safe passage coupled with shooting a man in the back tapped into something deep within these men of the West, a violation of the Code that held their society, such as it was, intact. Ray Teal as Morley really shines in this scene as his men systematically dismantle Swede's band of bushwhackers stationed around the stable, leveling the field to just Swede and Allison. And once Swede is dispatched, it comes down to Tate and Allison.
Victoria French as Tate's paramour Ruby proves that you only hurt the one you love, or in order to save you I had to shoot you. She takes a tremendous risk in winging Tate to short circuit the shootout, but her love was sincere, even if Tate only saw her as a plaything. French was a much more appealing character than Karen Steele's Lucy, an early sufferer of resting bitch face wholly lacking in charm. It's obvious why Tate was drawn to this woman who was as cold, calculating, and ambitious as himself.
It's a rare Western that ends with the villain of the piece riding off in a carriage with a beautiful woman while the hero gets drunk and unruly at the bar. DECISION AT SUNDOWN was a convention-defying film, and I suspect that is why it receives more bad reviews than good. Randolph Scott playing against type no doubt ruffled feathers, mine included. I wanted to see him play the hero in a clearly defined good guy vs. bad guy scenario, but Scott played out that script in the 1940s and early '50s and was ready to stretch as an actor. This film's scenario--unlikable character rides into town, cleans it up, then rides out again--would be the template for so many 1960's Westerns, both foreign and domestic. It was a Western ahead of its time and one well worth watching.