There's a short list of films where John Wayne's character dies. I don't think "West Of The Divide" is on that list, but look again.
In the opening five minutes, we watch a man collapse after drinking from a poison water hole. A close up reveals him to be none other than John Wayne. Less than a minute later, he's dead.
Don't worry: That's not a spoiler. John Wayne is playing two characters in this movie. One, Gatt Gans, is a deadly outlaw who, as mentioned, winds up just dead. The other, Ted Hayden, happens to look like Gans, which Hayden discovers after lifting a wanted poster off Gans's corpse. It turns out Gans was en route to perform a hired killing, and it just so happens Hayden has some unfinished business with the hombre behind it.
"Maybe fate's kinda taken a hand in this deal," Hayden observes, before telling his pal Dusty (George "not yet Gabby" Hayes) that he'll pretend to be this bozo with the identical kisser.
Fate indeed takes a hand in "West Of The Divide," a mighty heavy one, too. "West Of The Divide" is practically nothing but fate taking a hand.
A couple of scenes on, a young woman rides away from two bandits. She falls off her horse and hides in a barn. A few moments later, the bandits ride by and happen to get into a fight over losing her. One pulls out a gun, and in the scuffle unknowingly wings her with a bullet. Minutes later, while she's bleeding dangerously close to death, Hayden and Dusty just happen to decide to bunk down in the same barn. Dusty discovers some blood, and well...
That's not even mentioning the little boy who happens to have his own connection to Hayden's past, and happens to be associated with the group of baddies who happen to be after the woman and her money, and happens to pick just the right moment to lift some bullets from someone's gun...
As much as it happens to reek of plot convenience, "West Of The Divide" also offers some memorably weak acting. The father, the chief villain, the woman, all play their roles with wooden stiffness. Even Hayes lacks his typical elan.
Wayne by contrast is terrific, whether making friends with the boy or delivering some long and pointless exposition to Dusty about how Dusty saved him when he was a boy ("Anyway, it won't do you no good, livin' this all over again," says Dusty after stringing out Hayden's tale for five long minutes.) Wayne also grimaces with believable anger when he catches up with someone he's been after for a long time. Given the material, it would have been understandable if Wayne had just gone through the motions, but he really inhabits the part. It's a foretaste of what he would do with better roles in the not-so-distant future, though he didn't always perform as well as this in his B-picture days.
The stunts here are solid, too. One involves a man standing on a runaway buckboard as it disintegrates around him, maybe the coolest stunt in the whole Wayne run of Lone Star pictures.
When I wasn't watching Wayne, I was mostly just bored with this. Director Robert N. Bradbury maintains his characteristically slow pace, making all the silly fate twists he throws at you easier to notice. The Lone Star pictures were meant for casual viewing, and by younger viewers, but even with the bar lowered so it seems somehow not quite low enough for this dull oater.
For Wayne completists only who want to see him in a rare double role, and playing a bad guy, too. Just don't go anywhere for the first five minutes. After that, though, there's little point sticking around.
In the opening five minutes, we watch a man collapse after drinking from a poison water hole. A close up reveals him to be none other than John Wayne. Less than a minute later, he's dead.
Don't worry: That's not a spoiler. John Wayne is playing two characters in this movie. One, Gatt Gans, is a deadly outlaw who, as mentioned, winds up just dead. The other, Ted Hayden, happens to look like Gans, which Hayden discovers after lifting a wanted poster off Gans's corpse. It turns out Gans was en route to perform a hired killing, and it just so happens Hayden has some unfinished business with the hombre behind it.
"Maybe fate's kinda taken a hand in this deal," Hayden observes, before telling his pal Dusty (George "not yet Gabby" Hayes) that he'll pretend to be this bozo with the identical kisser.
Fate indeed takes a hand in "West Of The Divide," a mighty heavy one, too. "West Of The Divide" is practically nothing but fate taking a hand.
A couple of scenes on, a young woman rides away from two bandits. She falls off her horse and hides in a barn. A few moments later, the bandits ride by and happen to get into a fight over losing her. One pulls out a gun, and in the scuffle unknowingly wings her with a bullet. Minutes later, while she's bleeding dangerously close to death, Hayden and Dusty just happen to decide to bunk down in the same barn. Dusty discovers some blood, and well...
That's not even mentioning the little boy who happens to have his own connection to Hayden's past, and happens to be associated with the group of baddies who happen to be after the woman and her money, and happens to pick just the right moment to lift some bullets from someone's gun...
As much as it happens to reek of plot convenience, "West Of The Divide" also offers some memorably weak acting. The father, the chief villain, the woman, all play their roles with wooden stiffness. Even Hayes lacks his typical elan.
Wayne by contrast is terrific, whether making friends with the boy or delivering some long and pointless exposition to Dusty about how Dusty saved him when he was a boy ("Anyway, it won't do you no good, livin' this all over again," says Dusty after stringing out Hayden's tale for five long minutes.) Wayne also grimaces with believable anger when he catches up with someone he's been after for a long time. Given the material, it would have been understandable if Wayne had just gone through the motions, but he really inhabits the part. It's a foretaste of what he would do with better roles in the not-so-distant future, though he didn't always perform as well as this in his B-picture days.
The stunts here are solid, too. One involves a man standing on a runaway buckboard as it disintegrates around him, maybe the coolest stunt in the whole Wayne run of Lone Star pictures.
When I wasn't watching Wayne, I was mostly just bored with this. Director Robert N. Bradbury maintains his characteristically slow pace, making all the silly fate twists he throws at you easier to notice. The Lone Star pictures were meant for casual viewing, and by younger viewers, but even with the bar lowered so it seems somehow not quite low enough for this dull oater.
For Wayne completists only who want to see him in a rare double role, and playing a bad guy, too. Just don't go anywhere for the first five minutes. After that, though, there's little point sticking around.