Man in the Saddle

Average Scott western, at best. There're some darn fine Lone Pine vistas that aren't usually seen, plus mountain scenes from southern Sierras. That's one thing about well-produced westerns— the scenery can sustain even when all else falters. Scott, of course, is Scott, strong-jawed and humorless, carrying the film even when the congested script doesn't. The plot's pretty familiar, rich landowner taking over hero's land, along with a number of subplots. Then too, we've got not just one ingénue, but two. Leslie and Drew may be malt shop girls from the 40's but they do well enough here. I'm glad their hair color differs, otherwise they would be hard to tell apart.

I'm with those who think Rober and Knox too bland to compete with Scott. Also, I agree that Russell would have made a much more vivid villain; too bad he's wasted in what looks like a tacked-on role. And catch how easily Bedoya goes from clown to menace, even without "stinkin' badges". I really did expect sharper results from ace director DeToth. Given the right material, he can be quite affecting, as his western masterpiece Ramrod (1948) proves. As Andrew Sarris points out, few movie makers had a better feel for human treachery than the eye-patch Hungarian. My guess is he regarded the script as little more than a vehicle for Scott, though a few nice fringe touches do emerge, such as the straggler who gets in the way of the showdown.

All in all, the oater's too sprawling in both cast and story to achieve anything more than a scenic time passer.