For the first few decades of the 20th century, the U.S. National Parks Service aimed to create a bucolic utopia in their National Parks, centered on a strangely anthropomorphized notion of wildlife and nature. One damning misassumption concerned the purpose of predators. To humans, who benefited from species considered either useful or beautiful, there was no good to be gotten from predatory creatures. As a result, cougars, wolves and coyotes (on top of many others) fell under the auspices of “predator control” – basically, the legalized federal genocide of whole wild animal populations by any means necessary. Trapping, poisoning, all was permitted.
These policies catered to ranchers, who saw nature as a resource to be used up and discarded, and to the commercial men of the Parks, who favored nature tourism based on similar principles. Opposed to this wanton slaughter were the nature societies, who saw this as an unnatural regulation of a natural system not in need of regulation. The Parks Service’s biologists were themselves eternally opposed to predator control on scientific grounds, arguing the long-term damage such policies could pose to the very ecosystems the killers were purporting to preserve.
(One finds a similar progression of ideas with the Forest Service and its one-time policy of 100% fire suppression. Speaking as a former firefighter and naturalist, I have seen this tactic yield a far more complex, dangerous and explosive wildfire situation today. Fire, like predators, was once seen as an absolute evil to nature – and it has now been reconceived as a natural part of it.)
By 1931, policy change in the Parks Service sought to curb predator slaughter, or at least curtail it. Such perceived liberalism was mighty controversial throughout the 30s. Ranchers as well as sportsmen favored predator reduction so they could more adequately take advantage of the animals predators preyed upon. Similar to certain contemporary arguments concerning global warming, policy makers had financial reasons to dismiss evidence pointing to the usefulness of, say, coyotes. These were influential people, and had ways of popularizing their opinions.
Narrative movies as a medium are a powerful propaganda tool, as they carry an emotive component which overrides mere reasoned argument. While most films argue for inarguable goods such as opposing murder, others take a stand on less cut-and-dry issues. Enter The Three Mesquiteers, taking a side on the predator control issue…the anti-predator side. Heart of the Rockies uses the formulaic rigors of the B-western to paint as heroic those who would hunt predators on National Park land.
What makes a hero? Is it moral goodness? Is it respect for the law? Is it an abhorrence of violence? Hell no! It’s simply who has the whitest hat.
The Three Mesquiteers (Robert Livingston, Ray Corrigan and Max Terhune as Stony Brooke, Tucson Smith and Lullaby Joslin) are now ranchers in the high country of Colorado, continuity be damned. For instantly indefensible reasons, they believe a mere one of their cattle herd has been killed by a bear (or “kil’t by a bar,” as it were), and therefore wish, in their heroic temperament, to slaughter every last bear in the state. (This profoundly misinterprets any predator policies, as bears were never the hated species.) You gotta love how The Three Mesquiteers can occasionally rally against the atrocious evils of the West: first Native Americans, and now the animals. These movies vilify nature! The Mesquiteers set out immediately upon a “bar hunt,” trespassing directly into the Blackstone Fictional National Park. And never mind Blackstone’s status as a “no hunting” animal preserve, it don’t matter to the Mesquiteers – their hats are white.
Our heroes take frequent potshots at the local “bars” when along ride some park rangers. (Boo! Hiss!) The Mesquiteers know they’re breaking the law (heroes) for their own petty commercial purposes, and actually consider starting a shootout with the rangers on account of our hats are white. Yeesh! But for now, the Mesquiteers simply have a fine.
Not ones to let law or scientific facts stand in their righteous way, the Mesquiteers decide to outsource their bear genocide. This shall now become the job of a local clan of toothless poacher hicks, the Dawsons. The Mesquiteers shall pay a ransom for every bear slaughtered, the more viciously, the better.
Now, the Dawsons are the villains. Why? Their hats are black. It’s surely not because of their actions. I mean, they kill off “bars” left and right, as the Mesquiteers themselves wish they could do. No, they’re “villains” because of their scheme: They sell the Mesquiteers “bar” pelt, make a profit, then let the Mesquiteers take the rap for the killings. Ah, so it’s ethics. Granted, as a strict Dantean, betraying their benefactors like this is a Ninth Circle offense. Still, if we’re meant to side with the Mesquiteers (our heroes), then “bar killin’” cannot on its own be meant as a sin. (By this movie’s ethical logic, if I hire an assassin, it’s his fault I paid him to kill somebody.)
There’s one other facet betraying the Dawsons as villains: they like incest. Really, it’s like the 30s equivalent of Deliverance, or the inbred mutants from Wrong Turn. It’s the kind of family where everyone calls everyone else “Ma” and “Pa” simply because it’s the literal truth. As an example I’m shocked Hays let ‘em get away with, clan head Ed (series regular J.P. McGowan) is actively planning to marry his own stepdaughter, Lorna (Lynne Roberts).* Hence the human version of the Country Bear Jamboree seen above.
*(My college roommate’s uncle married his own stepdaughter once, and became the chief pariah in all of Indiana for his trouble.) All non sequitur parantheticals guaranteed exaggeration-free.
The Mesquiteers crash the wedding because, well, this they oppose. Stony argues against Woody Allen-esque stepdaughter matrimony, on the grounds that Lorna is underage. Oh, so now you’re “OK” with the law?! Hypocrite! Oh, but it gets better. See, underage or no, Lorna is Stony’s love interest. How is – wait – I – who – what – how? Oh, right, Stony can afford bleach – a white hat forgives all pedophiliac interests. Yeesh! (Also, actress Roberts was 15 at the time, making things even more squicky.)
There’s one Dawson I haven’t mentioned yet: Davey Dawson. He’s Lorna’s younger brother (at least), and in genre terms is guaranteed of moral correctness, because of his youth. And because the elder Dawsons’ poaching is “bad” (because of their black hats), little Davey has the “correct” animal policy. His habit is to break onto Park land, snag up injured cute animals (a strangely common sight in this movie forest), and take them home to nurse. His bestiary is consistent with the species favored under “predator control.” So every day, Davey kidnaps a new badger, or skunk, or coon (racist connotations definitely intended in this film). Hey, I got a better idea: Leave the fucking animals alone!
On Davey’s latest animal quest, he happens upon a cougar cub he chooses to interpret as injured. Clutching the frightened wild animal in his hands, Davey crows about what a wonderful pet it will make. At no point does Heart in the Rockies propose the potential long-term ramifications of this – a pet mountain lion! Then Davey topples off a cliff with the cub. Stuck now on a ledge, jagged rocks below, the boy questions why all this happened. Hey, Davey, maybe next time don’t steal cougars and jump up and down on loose rocks afterwards!
Now a mother cougar is closing in, and not in a good way like in a singles bar. Understandably, she fears for her cub’s life, as it remains in Davey’s grasp. The Mesquiteers, on the other side of the canyon, could care less about the cougar’s side of the story. It’s predatory, and thus worth shooting. I hate this movie for placing a boy in jeopardy to support its Palin-esque “shoot all mountain lions” agenda. The park rangers try to prevent this noble creature’s murder, so Stony holds them at gunpoint (their hats are slightly more tan than his, therefore he’s got the right). Lullaby fires, and the mountain cat is granted a most humiliating death – it flies 10 feet in the air, then smacks off the cliff as it plummets, like that propeller guy in Titanic.
Davey is rescued, and Stony turns to lambast the park rangers: “I’m getting tired of your interference!” Yeah, really, what gives them the right? God DAMN IT!
The Mesquiteers now return to the Dawsons’ hut, mostly so Stony can slake his lust for a 15-year-old hillbilly. One of the nearby inbreeders, Charlie Dawson, says something in a slightly raised voice not directed towards Stony. That’s all Stony can take; he punches Charlie right then! (The Mesquiteers have become unconscionably violent as well as hypocritical, and yet never once are we meant to think they’re less than 100% noble.) The knife fight that ensues is actually the best thing about Heart of the Rockies, because it supersedes the disgusting anti-animal bias in favor of pure stunt work. For once, I am glad a Mesquiteers fight scene goes on for too long. (Also, I kinda like the “Mesquiteers vs. mountaineers” notion.)
The fight over, and nothing resolved, the Mesquiteers ride away.
Then Ed Dawson shoots Davey’s lion cub dead for no fucking good reason whatsoever. So…let me get this straight. Bear killing: good. Cougar killing: good. Cute cougar killing: bad. Gotcha!
The Dawsons sell their illegal bear pelts to the Mesquiteers, our heroes. Thus it’s onward to the evil “Mesquiteer framing” side of their scheme. Part of this plan involves getting the rangers to arrest Stony. Lucky for the Dawsons, Stony on his own accord is off in the Park killing bears, for the good goddamn hell of it. Thus one of the rangers is about to arrest Stony when Charlie murders the ranger. His reason? So the other rangers will arrest Stony. Let us never question the logic of incestuous mountain poachers!
It’s a bit late in the movie for a new plot thread with Stony as a wanted man. Nonetheless, he hides out at the Dawsons’ shed, looking to clear his name. This somehow allows the filmmakers an opportunity for repeated lascivious shots of 15-year-old Lorna, as naked as a 1937 movie will allow. This movie has problems!
The means by which Stony clears his name are somewhat unclear. He dukes it out with Charlie, the murderer, upon a runaway wagon, allowing for a dry run of the famous battle sequence in Stagecoach. Charlie dies, trampled underfoot, as the rangers near. At this point, Stony basically says that Charlie (now dead) confessed (to Stony) of the murder (that Stony saw him commit). Well, that’s all the rangers needed to hear! Stony is cleared! Of course, his hat is white.
Well…there are two things I like about this movie. It has nice location footage of Colorado, and stunt coordinator Yakima Canutt’s antics remain jaw-dropping. However…
While many films of the ‘30s and ‘40s are incurably racist, and therefore offensive, there’s something I find far more hateful in the outdated opinions of Heart of the Rockies. That it phrases its argument so poorly, vilifying the Dawsons for the same actions is praises the Mesquiteers for, doesn’t help. I guess it isn’t the noblest thing of me to condemn this movie for its ideological stance, as I feel usually films should be judged primarily on their artistic accomplishments. That is, I’m willing to defend D.W. Griffith or Leni Riefenstahl on aesthetic grounds, even while I find their films’ positions reprehensible. But the thing is, their movies are aesthetically compelling; Heart of the Rockies rather lives or dies by its ideologies. There is nothing else of quality here that cannot be found (in greater quantities) in other Three Mesquiteer movies. Nine movies in, Yakima Canutt alone cannot cut it.
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. 10 The Trigger Trio (1937)
• No. 13 Call of the Mesquiteers (1938)
• 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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