These ancient public domain franchises have been largely discarded, and it is understandable. Outside of niche enthusiasts and crazy completists like myself, there’s no market for these things, not even enough to justify whatever scant public domain website bandwidth they’d need. As it is, there are plenty of Three Mesquiteer movies which are unavailable (in fact, the vast percentage of the series). Let us consider the two I’ve been forced to pass over…
Wild Horse Rodeo (1937) – The Mesquiteers face off against some evil horse-owning rodeo racketeer: Colonel Nye, the rodeo guy. Their conflict concerns an unrideable horse named Cyclone. There is no more plot summary given, probably because these Mesquiteer plots are never any more complex.
The Purple Vigilantes (1938) – The good people of whatever town the Mesquiteers live in do the noble, good and heroic thing, and form a lawless vigilante to run out outlaw vigilantes. Never mind the hooded robes and general sense of white entitlement, the series seems in favor of such cross-burnin’ shenanigans. But yet another set of evil vigilantes rises up to imitate the good vigilantes, mostly so the filmmakers can have their cake and eat it too: Paint vigilantism as a virtue, in pure Death Wish mode, even while the Mesquiteers can battle vigilantes. Honestly, what is with this series and siding with absolutely abhorrent political concepts? (See Riders of the Whistling Skull, Heart of the Rockies…Rather, don’t see ‘em.)
And now, without further ado (or is it adieu?), we come to Call of the Mesquiteers, which I did see (or shall).
[Time spent watching Call of the Mesquiteers, barely believing what I see…]
…Well?
…How was it?
…
That was horrible!
Thirteen entries in (and nine of ‘em seen), I can confidently declare now that The Three Mesquiteers’ formula isn’t working. (Indeed, any franchise that can churn out 8 feature length films per year must rely on a formula.) Compare the Mesquiteers to Charlie Chan. While I grew most hatefully resentful towards the later entries, its formula worked. Why? It was a narrative formula. New elements could be added, changing the flavor, resulting in playful variations on a central notion throughout the series’ history.
The Three Mesquiteers is not a narrative formula; it is a filming formula. That is, they had a set-in-stone production schedule, with the following things always appearing: Plenty of footage of horse riding, shooting, shooting while horse riding, and fistfights. And always in the same setting, ridding whatever momentary excitement these sequences might have. What this doesn’t determine is story. And while the scripts do occasionally utilize classic western tales, they are mostly slipshod, scattershot and fundamentally random.
Call of the Mesquiteers (or simply Call the Mesquiteers, in the onscreen title greatly wanting for an “of”) is at the height of Mesquiteer randomness. There is a central premise, though the story at all times feels as though it’s the improvised ramblings of the producer’s sugar-happy youth – this problem seeps into unrelated elements of the film, such as the editing and performances.
Added to that, they can’t even keep the setting consistent between entries. I mean, usually these Three Mesquiteer movies take place in the Old West – being westerns and all. This one, though, takes place in 1938, for as much as I can tell, full of trucks and motorcycles and ticker tape telegrams. At least, most of the movie is this way; at times, they still seem to think it takes place in the 19th century. It’s remarkably difficult to take seriously, or even enjoy, with all this.
It’s becoming increasingly clear this series was made with kids in mind, and that the filmmakers didn’t even respect kids all that much. The issues with logic, tone and comprehensibility are part of that. The portrayal of children, in the omnipresence of Sammy McKim playing yet a different young boy named Tim, is equally contemptible. So is how Call [of] the Mesquiteers handles dogs. But we’ll get to that…
Things start out with a daring train robbery. Far be it from me to suggest a more efficient means of robbing the caboose, but…I will anyway. Why not simply unhook it, rather than systematically hurl bales full of ultra-precious raw silk (!) out the moving boxcar? This necessitates a convoy of trucks parked along choice turnouts near the railroad. It also necessitates the murder of a brakeman, and act that is equal parts cold-blooded and shortsighted.
Even once all our baddies are on the Silk Road, moving out in their trucks, they cannot help but to bracingly stupid things. That is, the rear truck crashes, purely because they hired a guy to drive who cannot drive! (I fear my Mesquiteer commentaries as a whole shall mostly consist of outthinking the villains.) So one third of the silk-thieving dastards are ditched in a pig hole, forced to make a proverbial silk purse out of this sow’s ear.
Enter the Three Mesquiteers, themselves partaking in the truck-based rodeo circuit. (I’m no longer listing out the same cast as always; just check previous write-ups.) The murder-happy baddies flag them down, for the use of their truck. Had they simply been three more brakemen, or the upcoming police officers, our villains would’ve simply shot ‘em dead due to moronic viciousness. But they’re the stars, and thus simply taken hostage. The raw silk is loaded up in the rear with the horses, the Mesquiteers’ truck disguised to not appear suspicious.
Little good it does, for those upcoming police officers have come up, and are actively chasing down the Mesquiteers’ truck (we’re led to believe, if we’re at all logical beings, this would’ve happened, bad guys or no). Rather than attempt the clever disguise ruse they’ve just now devised, the baddies start an immediate shootout with the cops! Nitwits! All this in the context of a chase sequence, Mesquiteers ahead in their truck, cops on their motorcycles. And for absolutely no reason (even by Mesquiteer standards), a duo of hillbilly jalopies joins in, firing aimlessly at both the cops and robbers for the sheer hell of it. “What the f*#% is going on?!” I actually uttered at this moment.
The chase only ends once the cops have shot the three villains dead. Way to get out of your own scrape, Mesquiteers! Ah, but all this was just the lengthy setup. Now the Mesquiteers are wanted men! They affect their escape from the law, as the cops are distracted by the posse of rednecks (ah, so that’s why this non sequitur exists). Forced into a run from justice, the Mesquiteers debate clearing their names by tracking down and arresting the real gang (that is, the other six of ‘em who didn’t get shot through the skulls).
Doings remain somewhat sane for a while, progressing as you’d expect. The Mesquiteers stop off at a gas station (for gas). Several good citizen stuntmen recognize them as the supposed Silken Bandits, which is the chance for a fistfight in a garage. You gotta have one of these per entry! The Mesquiteers continue their flawless fisticuffs record, and race back to the truck.
There’s no plot here, which means we get another action sequence straightaway. Ah, movies fundamentally never change. (One thing I love about watching old movies is they prove Sturgeon’s Law for an era most people sum up as nothing but classics.) Now we’re in a familiar desert, as the truck even passes by Kirk’s Rock (you know, where Shatner fought the Gorn)! After the sequence progresses for a while…the Mesquiteers are in the clear. No reason given. They’ve simply evaded their pursuers. Really, no action beats in this franchise are ever comprehensibly resolved.
Here’s where the director (actually named Johnny English, meaning his IMDb page actually links to this) runs out of water-treading 30s-style action sequences, and must demur to plot. Here’s also where Call [of] the Mesquiteers falls apart completely. The Mesquiteers, now on horseback (their truck having been…whatever), observe a sign announcing a nearby town: Cosmopolis. Wow! This is seriously one cool generic town name! If I ever invent a superhero, I’m basing him in Cosmopolis!
Anyway, Stony has a similar reaction, wanting to immediately go to this place, screw whatever the movie’s been about up ‘til now. Basically, his reasoning is that Cosmopolis might have females in it – “Horny” being Stony’s one character trait, which is still one more than Tucson has. (Lullaby has too many character traits, as he’s basically a backwoods, good ol’ boy version of Jame Gumb in Silence of the Lambs).
Anyway anyway, this sign leads the Mesquiteers to rambling detours almost as egregious as the one I just allowed myself. And along comes Dr. Algernon Irving (Earle Hogins), a traveling tonic salesman, with his two children. One is ostensibly of-age daughter Madge (Lynne Roberts, as decidedly underage as she was in Heart of the Rockies), whose romance with Stony is nearly as sickening as it was in that other movie. The other is son Tim, spouter of obscene 30s “gee whizisms” and a tie back to the target audience – the snotty, precocious little brothers of future WWII soldiers. Dr. Irving has been seeking a singin’ cowboy trio to help his flailing business and – Hey, guys! Over halfway through is a little too late to be introducing entire new plotlines on us.
Things now become random and unclear. Yes, again. Cosmopolis is a post-apocalyptic ghost town. Its lone resident is a hobo named Hardy (Eddie Waller), who invites the Mesquiteers and Irving’s family to his restaurant out of left field.
There, a cat is seen, and the hobo restaurateur claims it is his chef. Lullaby’s evil ventriloquist dummy tries to eat it.
Suddenly, and I mean suddenly, it’s the 19th century, apparently, and the Mesquiteers are in their regular Old West town instead of Cosmopolis. They see a “Wanted” poster (sans images). I have taken a screenshot of it, not because the poster is at all noteworthy, but simply because this is what’s up on screen for a full, generous 30 seconds. Methinks English (the director) doubts his audience’s capacity with English (the language).
Apparently, this is a description of Lullaby (see what I mean by “too many characteristics?”).
One more “suddenly” later, and the movie is populated by cartoonish western stereotypes Mel Brooks wouldn’t’ve allowed in Blazing Saddles, like something out of the “Scruffy Smith” comic strip. I don’t know what all that was about.
A posse spots the Mesquiteers, so it’s…time for a chase. Another chase? Yeesh! Now we’ve already had truck vs. motorcycle and even horse vs. truck (which I neglected to mention), now it’s simply horse vs. horse. Which we see every time. The Mesquiteers escape, by the same “run out the available footage” method we’re familiar with. “That was a close shave” quips Tucson, not understanding such comments only constitute “puns” when shaving is somehow involved.
Back in Cosmopolis circa 1938, Dr. Irving is mad about the trio’s editing-based disappearance. Now, all of a sudden (yeah, yeah, again), Tim has a pet dog we’ve never seen before. This hound (played by master thespian Flash the Wonder Dog) is now the main character.
We now follow the nameless dog (!) as it sniffs its way into hobo Hardy’s eatery. Driven by an innate sixth sense I call the “script,” the dog discovers a trap door. Tim enters and opens the door.
Down below (all of a sudden) is the silk gang’s hideout. What?! Well that was convenient. So Tim goes on down, presumably intending to murder all six ruffians singlehandedly without a weapon, when the dog, again sensing the script’s needs, slams the door shut. Hence Tim is discovered and taken hostage – by the same gang so eager to shoot unnamed characters dead.
The baddies pull out in their three trucks, despite having been reduced to two trucks back in the opening sequence. Continuity errors! And with trucks now puttering through the (sudden) desert, it’s time for…a chase! Of course! But who shall chase them? Why, the dog! Anything can chase anything! (Oy.) Further, this franchise as a whole postulates that the slower an animal or vehicle is, the better a chance it has of catching something.
What’s become of our Mesquiteers, who were at one point our heroes, a long time ago? Well, come climax, they’re literally just sitting on their butts in some bushes. The trio sees the ensuing chase, and comments on it in the driest, most monotone way possible:
“Hey, there’s a truck.”
“…There’s another truck.”
“…There’s another truck again.”
“There’s a dog chasing it.”
I don’t think this is meant to be absurdist, but whatever. And it’s that dog which seals it. The Mesquiteers themselves give chase on horseback, because that’s what you do when you see a dog chasing a truck…apparently.
Then the dog, our hero, leaps into the moving truck’s rear bed and mauls its occupant to death! Danger now taken care of, the Mesquiteers can board via horse and continue chasing the two lead trucks. Only…
They ditch their automobile so they can chase those trucks on horseback! I think they understand this franchise’s bizarre chase-based algorithm. If only one of them could’ve ridden the dog.
…Actually, we only see Stony and Tucson doing this. It seems whenever it’s time for action, Lullaby is strangely absent, perhaps since stunt work is one of Max Terhune’s failings.
Shots are fired, the trucks’ tires are hit, the trucks stop. All five remaining baddies together declare they shall go into one truck bed individually to “check on the silk.” (God this movie is stupid!) Here in the bed, Lullaby lies in wait, having made it here through some means which invalidate the space-time continuum (he was behind Stony and Tucson, who still haven’t caught up to the trucks).
So, one baddie enters. Lullaby lays him out with a combination log-to-the-shin and head-clonk. He passes out.
A second baddie enters. Lullaby lays him out with a combination log-to-the-shin and head-clonk. He passes out.
A third baddie enters. Lullaby lays him out w- Okay, you can see where this nonsense is going. How none of the five villains see the mass of unconsciousness awaiting them ahead of time is an answer for the gods to answer. And the instant Lullaby delivers his fifth tedious head-clonk, it’s “The End.” Yeah, just like that!
That leaves, well, a few unanswered questions…Like: Did the Mesquiteers ever clear themselves of silk-rustlin’? Did Dr. Irving ever see success? What of the hobo? And what sort of cosmological event is causing historical setting and the laws of physics to suspend so regularly?
I said it at the start, and I’ll say it at the end: That was horrible!
Related posts:
• No. 1 The Three Mesquiteers (1936)
• No. 3 Roarin’ Lead (1936)
• No. 4 Riders of the Whistling Skull (1937)
• No. 5 Hit the Saddle (1937)
• No. 6 Gunsmoke Ranch (1937)
• No. 7 Come On, Cowboys! (1937)
• No. 8 Range Defenders (1937)
• No. 9 Heart of the Rockies (1937)
• No. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 14 Outlaws of Sonora (1938)
• No. 19 Santa Fe Stampede (1938)
• Nos. 29 – 38 (1940 – 1941)
• No. 35 Prairie Pioneers (1941)
• Nos. 39 – 51 (1941 – 1943)
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