Westward Ho Blu-ray Review
The beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman, April 19, 2013
When perusing the years perhaps overly optimistically called Hollywood's Golden Era, film historians and film lovers alike
tend to focus on the major studios, those glamour factories that churned out an incredibly high level of product that
often blended art with commerce in unexpectedly excellent ways. Looking at the histories of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer,
20th Century Fox, Paramount Pictures or Warner Brothers from the 1930s through the 1940s is like seeing the entire
gamut of Hollywood's proclivities in microcosm. Stars were made (and destroyed), new kids on the block became
respected directors and writers, thousands of largely unrecognized technicians plied their crafts in relative anonymity
but with unerring genius, while over it all intense autocrats like Louis B. Mayer, Adolph Zukor, Darryl F. Zanuck or Jack
Warner lorded the power like a feudal king surveying his fiefdom. But there's just as much, if not more, to be learned
by investigating the so called minor studios, many of which were frequently gathered under the rubric "Poverty Row".
One of the most interesting of the minor studios, Republic Studios, was in fact created out of a coalition of other
"Poverty Row" outfits in what was proposed by entrepreneur Herbert J. Yates as an innovative way to pool resources,
production facilities and signed talent to create more viable product. Yates' initial intention was to let the former
independent studios now under his command operate as more or less standalone entities, but Yates soon fell victim to
"warlord syndrome", alienating the former executives who had been in charge of
their own little fiefdoms before
joining forces as Republic Pictures. Republic had a rather long history, at least as far as minor studios go, lasting for
well over two decades and pumping out an amazing amount of films, many of which are now being released on Blu-ray
by Olive Films. Among these are a lot of relatively early John Wayne entries. Though one of Republic's acquisitions had
already previously signed Gene Autry, Wayne came aboard courtesy of Monogram Pictures and was, with Autry, one of
Republic's semi-established names. According to the liner notes on the Blu-ray release of
Westward Ho, this
was the first ever film to be released by Republic Pictures and therefore began a long relationship between Wayne and
the fledgling studio, one that would continue in one form or another for many more years, even after Wayne had made
his name with the majors.
What's fascinating about
Westward Ho is how surprisingly artfully it reworks hoary tropes of westerns (and
indeed
other genres as will be discussed below) within its bargain basement
ethos. Directed by journeyman Robert N.
Bradbury, the film actually boasted a fairly lavish production by Republic's (still nascent) standards, with some incredibly
gorgeous location photography that captures some stunning high altitude peaks in the distance. The story of
Westward Ho has been told time and time again and would (in a different timeframe and setting) become a
standard trope in a number of gangster films in the 1930s and 1940s, where two brothers (or lifelong friends in some
cases) end up on different sides of the law.
In the case of
Westward Ho, we're introduced to the Wyatt family, a hardy group of pioneers leading a large
herd
of cattle westward. The family is attacked by a group of bad guys who kill the parents and abduct the younger Wyatt
son,
thinking that the older Wyatt boy is dead. This sequence ends with a fantastic little moment where John Wyatt, the
older
boy who has indeed survived, stumbled up to the corpse of his mother on a barren western plain and lies down next to
her as the remnants of the Wyatt wagon train burn in the background. It's positively (John) Fordian and is quite
remarkable for a film of this generally rote approach.
The film segues forward a decade or two (replete with that oft used technique of a montage of newspaper headlines
and indications of passing years) where we find John Wyatt (John Wayne) now an adult out to restore law and order in
a lawless west. Unfortunately, Wyatt can't get the city elders to fund his proposal, and so he recruits a bunch of men
who have had their own run ins with an ineffective justice system. Together they form a group which Wyatt informs
them will be called Vigilantes, and just to make sure their little club is instantly identifiable, they all ride white horses
and wear black outfits
and (just in case that weren't enough) they
sing! Yes, this is yet another
attempt to make Wayne a competitor to his then new studio stable mate Gene Autry. It's patently silly, but if you're of
the right mind, it's also more than a bit hilarious.
The rest of
Westward Ho's rather brief running time plays out in predictable fashion as John attempts to bring
several bad guys to justice, reconnects with his long lost brother (who is of course now on the other side of the law),
and attempts to woo a pretty little cowgirl (Sheila Bromley). The film may be predictable, but it's also surprisingly
enjoyable. Aside from the relatively lush production values, it's interesting to see Wayne this early in his career,
especially after the perceived debacle of
The Big Trail. Unlike some of the later Republic films Wayne did, even some non westerns, there's
absolutely none of what would become Wayne's trademark idiolect with its twang and tendency to drop "g"'s at the
ends of words. This is a surprisingly
articulate sounding Wayne, all the more remarkable in that the film is so
bare bones and basic.
Despite its occasional silliness,
Westward Ho is a remarkably entertaining feature, one that manages a
surprising amount of depth in its short running time (about the same length as many of Wayne's
Three
Mesquiteers "shorts"). Wayne is charming and dynamic, the supporting cast is generally good (if a bit hyperbolic at
times), and the scenery is fantastic. Republic Pictures got off to a very good start indeed.
