An overlooked gem from 1929. The premise has been remade a number of times, but I can't imagine any being better than this. I hope the three godfathers, actors Hatton, Bickford & Kohler, got big bonuses. They clearly deserve hazard pay for filming in the middle of nowhere. Looking like a parched pancake, it's a nowhere desert the three fugitives must limp across. Worse, there's no sign of relief in any direction. Yeah, they're tough guys, but this is a battle with nature in the raw, a desolate face that's both unyielding and waterless. And catch the rags the guys are wearing. The tatters get even holier as they trudge along. Wardrobe must have shopped on skid row, while I doubt that a grubbier threesome has appeared in Hollywood annals.Speaking of holy, there's a subtext of Christian symbolism to the story, without rubbing our nose in it. Note, for example, the brief cross-shaped cactus providing comfort to the martyred Barbed-Wire as his two buddies depart. Good subtle detail. Then again, the results suggest something of the Three Wise Men, western style. After all, when Mom dies, the three bank robbers are gradually redeemed by their care for the infant boy under what amounts to self-sacrificing circumstances. Their desert trek then becomes a moral proving ground the outlaws must cross in order for symbolic redemption to occur. At the same time, delivering the infant to the altar on Christmas day closes the Three Wise Men loop. By that time, each has shown a higher regard for the infant than himself. Nonetheless, I like the brief moments when the guys show their masculine libido. For example, Bob enjoys biting saloon girls in erotic fashion, while he and Bill jockey over who gets firsties with the girl in the covered wagon. Thankfully, filming was prior to the dead hand of Hollywood's censorship code. Anyway, it's legendary William Wyler's first talky and he hits a homerun, with both staging and performances. In fact, some of those desolate shots against the sky are downright iconic, proving again that artistry surpasses time. Also, the acting's first-rate. Seldom has a trio of tough guys interacted with such unforced naturalness, conveying a rare level of male bonding.. Too bad grubby Oscars aren't awarded for best shabby characters, because these three rank right up there with Sierra Madre's Bogart and Huston. So, don't pass this one up despite its obscurity. I'm really glad an old movie fan put me on to it, and I think you will be too.

Regretfully, I only caught the last 15 minutes or so during its latest broadcast on TCM. I'm a Westerns buff and have seen both the later (Morris, et al & Wayne et al) versions, as well as the original silent. Ran across this one by accident when I got up too early on a Sunday morning. Despite having only seen its last 1/4 hour, I was ab-so-lutely blown away by how much better it was than any of those other productions. Wyler's direction is spectacular - visually spare while bursting with information. Does anyone know ANYWHERE I might be able to get a copy (DVD or VHS) for personal viewing? If I must, I will wait around for two or ten years 'til it shows up again on TCM (maybe Encore Westerns?), but I have got to see the whole thing. Thx for any help you can give. -peace

It's not the best, but not the worst movie ever made... interesting for the time. Best of all though, the beginning and end of the movie are shot in what is now a real ghost town - Bodie, CA.The story has been done over and over, but as I said, if you have ever been to Bodie, it's worth checking out this movie - just to see the town as it once was.

There is a production still photo (reprinted recently in Scott Eyeman's 'The Speed Of Sound') that has haunted me ever since I first came across it in 1968. It was in a humanities class text. We had studied von Stroheim's "Greed" and upturned the story of how. while shooting on location in the Mojave Desert, the cameras had to be iced against the heat while the crew's cook died from the solar furnace. And here, four years later in the Panamint Hills, is a black and white of a sound film crew out in the desert. A long black cable in the sand leading up to an airtight meat locker housing the camera and its operator. The sun blazing down, I wondered, what kind of a film could get done under these conditions? Further research heightened my frustration as William Wyler was listed as the director (must be a good film), but it was for Universal, already notorious for keeping their early talkies tightly vaulted.Flash forward 34 years (and a big Thank You Ted Turner and TCM). It is 2:30 AM and I can't sleep. In the next room, a VCR awaits its task of making sure I don't miss this. But I'm pacing the floor for an hour and a half, heart pounding with anticipation. "I can't be very good", I tell myself, "Bickford isn't Gable". Fade up, dozens of bat-wing parchments of nitrate flap before some lamp and credits roll, I'M FINALLY SEEING IT! The camera's lens prowls back and forth across barren landscape, as though it was looking for something. Three riders appear on horseback. The dialogue begins and it's good, the camera moves right along with the riders. The lighting is remarkable as the faces well-saturate the negative [something anyone who has attempted photography in bright sunlight will appreciate]. In town, this gang's leader is in the saloon making time with the ladies. Bickford establishes his character in this sequence as one who is harder and more heartless than anyone else in westerns. He'll tell the sheriff he's going to rob the bank (across the street). A high establishing shot shows the whole town, then a shot tracks with Bickford approaching the bank as his gang rides up. This is cinema, a montage of perceptions that completely fill the viewer's consciousness. This film is very, very good.George Robinson's photography is extraordinary, with fine compositions and contrasts. His vistas are jam packed and firmly place the viewer into this nothingness. The actors' beards progress with the time frame, and the place is so dirty you'll run for the Pledge.It's filled with those two second throwaways that tell so much about the characters but do nothing to advance the plot. Such as when the gang leans on the teller's counter, one cowboy's boot scuffs at the bottom for a bar rail. At the saloon, a short skirted woman dances for the patrons, a low angle shot gives a glimpse of garter. The sheriff, seated nearby, drops something and pretends to pick it up. He stares lecherously at the dancing knees. Yet, a moment later, when Bickford invites him to drink, the sheriff's back on his moral high horse. Bickford bites and slaps the girl, after all this is pre-code.The characters are complex and juxtaposed images abound. Charles Bickford's portrayal is unforgettable. Here is a picture that deserves recognition as one of the classics, a film that transcends its primitive equipment. Makes one wonder what else is locked up in the vaults of the Big U.