Underground Rustlers gets off to a sudden start, without even an attempt at an introductory paragraph, with those crooks on Wall Street plotting to upturn the economy. Obviously, we’re in the realm of pure fantasy here. It’s 1869, the Civil War has done its part to foment the seeds for Old West rambunctiousness, and Auric Goldfinger stands before his assembly of mobsters to announce the Crime of the Century – they shall use Villainy to deplete U.S. gold reserves in order to increase their own stock of wealth. It shall be…The Great Gold Conspiracy of 1869…Well, lose the Goldfinger reference, but otherwise what I reported is accurate.
Okay, that was the greatest part of the movie for me, because I love goooooooooooold! I’m not even sure what come next. Checking my notes…
A telegram (from the president himself, Ulysses S. Grant, secret Muslim) informs the Range Busters they have been charged with protecting the entire U.S. economy, which shall be accomplished through the usual formulaic thwarting of a local boondock baddie. Okay, so the Range Busters are mere ranchers (now unquestionably “good,” a far cry from The Three Mesquiteers’ regular vilification of the profession), so why are they Grant’s brain trust? If there’s a purer example of how fictional media unnaturally favors its main characters, I’ve yet to see it.
Off the Busters burst to provide shelter to a smelter running helter-skelter from a welter of robbers. Or something. Basically, they shall be lode-bearing members (carrying gold, that is), and – Usual formula stuff, really. As normal, “Crash” Corrigan and “Dusty” King (themselves) split off on their own story. This involves conflicts with the obvious baddie (whom they won’t positively ID until the final 10 minutes, and one wonders if we’re supposed to be as stupid). It also invokes the usual romantic love triangle between them and today’s Bond girl: Pussy Galore! Wait, I keep forgetting, this isn’t Goldfinger! (I think I’d rather be watching something else.) The girl today is Irene Bentley (the pornishly-named Gwen Gaze), daughter of Jim Bentley – the man running the gold vault.
The other subplot belongs to the final 3.5 Range Busters, “Alibi” Terhune (himself) and puppet-from-hell Elmer Sneezeweed (himself – AAAH!). His usual plot is as follows: Pretending as an imaginary character, in this case a suspender peddler. This allows for comic routines which are, to be honest, funnier than anything Terhune’s done previously, even with Elmer’s frequent presence causing my heart to freeze in Lovecraftian horror. The in-film justification for Alibi’s usual antics is that it provides him a position to spy on the local nogoodniks, as a means of unearthing the bad guy (psst, it’s the guy in the black hat – they never drop this trope).
Boiling Underground Rustlers down to those elements rather neatly sums up the majority of the beast. Hmm, might be done quicker than usual with this consideration. But what of that other Range Buster necessity, the songs? Oh, they’re there – but there’s only two of ‘em. (The film itself is a tad shorter than most – exactly one song shorter.) As usual, all these tunes are sung by Dusty, each time with intent to woo Irene. Also as usual, nobody moves an iota during the songs, as if they were posing for a Civil War-era photograph. (And yeah, I’m aware throwing the 11th entry into the 1860s disrupts continuity somethin’ fierce, but I accept that now with B-westerns.)
The first song is “When the Wheels Are Turnin’.” It is sung in a stagecoach, whose wheels are in fact turnin’, which provides the only unique content to the song. Basically put, every Range Buster song can be boiled down to “I love you, which I can express through repeated choruses and simple A B song structure.” Romance songs are an art in bullshittery that parallels any B.A. education you could care to name.
Dusty’s second song is “My Sweetheart on the Range.” Exchange “stagecoach” metaphors for “range” metaphors, and you’ve got your song! Out of personal boredom, and a lack of anything else to write about, I’ve compiled some of the lyrics:
She’s as sweet as maple syrup
And I’m rarin’ in my stirrup (Holy schnikeys, man!)
Gettin’ closer every hour
To my precious prairie flower
I actually really like that “precious prairie flower” line, and love how the “stirrup” thing is essentially a big middle finger to the Hays Code.
Meanwhile…Oh right, the plot! Guess I’d better say something about it, beyond “Bad guys exist, are out-chased, out-shot and out-punched, and subsequently defeated.” Our top dastard here is Gold Butte’s resident intellectual (Boo! Hiss!), Martin Ford (Robert Blair). Not only is his (top) hat black, but he even twirls his mustache – yes yes YES! (Sadly, I’ve yet to see a single virgin tied to a railroad track.) Ford’s scheme to rid Gold Butte of its gold (and render it simply Butte) is to tunnel under the vault and – Okay, these 40s B-movies always take the route of least resistance.
So the vault is eventually exploded into from below, in what passes for “underground rustling.” There are a surprising number of impenetrable plot contortions by the point this has happened, which seems to occur every time a B-western dabbles in law or economy or politics or any of them duded-up ceevilized notions. This involves an “inquest,” which in this franchise’s mind means the public ogling of a corpse for fun and profit – the “corpse” in question is Alibi (what, did Elmer finally have his way?). But don’t fret, gentle hypothetical reader, Alibi isn’t really dead, he’s just fakin’ as a cadaver.
This set-up allows Alibi to use his astounding ventriloquism skills to…speak as himself. Oh…kay then. “Martin Ford killed me,” Alibi ghoulishly intones, “and I demand my vengeance!” The townsfolk of Gold Butte are indeed the stereotypical, ignorant golem morons one pictures living in the Old West. They instantly stampede! Stampede! A ghost, there is, in all his sheetness! Yeah, ghosts in sheets, an all-too-common sight in B-movies from the era (at least this time there’s no black man to wig out – racism isn’t The Range Busters’ specialty).
And so, Ford is felled.
Come the end, the one bit of Buster formula we’ve yet to get through is the traditional woman abandonment scene. Romancin’ or no, Dusty and Crash always leave their lover high and dry, usually at Elmer’s diabolical behest. This time, there’s not even any effort made at a proper goodbye. They simply ride off, without even an excuse given to Irene for this treatment.
I shall use the same tact with Underground Rustlers. I am done with it, and must never think of it again.
Related posts:
• No. 4 Trail of the Silver Spurs (1941)
• No. 8 Fugitive Valley (1941)
• No. 9 Saddle Mountain Roundup (1941)
• No. 10 Tonto Basic Outlaws (1941)
• No. 13 Rock River Renegades (1942)
• No. 16 Arizona Stagecoach (1942)
• No. 17 Texas to Bataan (1942)
• No. 18 Trail Riders (1942)
• No. 20 Haunted Ranch (1943)
• No. 24 Bullets and Saddles (1943)
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