"You mean to tell me this little mud Indian village is San Antonio?" says the singer, Jeanne Starr (Alexis Smith), as her stagecoach swings into the plaza. "Oh, it's nice! You will like it!" bubbles her manager, Sacha Bozic (S. Z. Sakall). "As far as I'm concerned it's just another place full of wild savages." She's already met Clay Hardin (Errol Flynn), so we know the town can't be that bad. On the other hand, she has yet to encounter the movie's two murderous villains, Roy Stuart (Paul Kelly) and the smooth Legare (Victor Francen).
San Antonio is better than a routine western, but still not much more than a pleasant way to spend an hour and a half. It's the story of Clay Hardin and his determination to bring to justice the king pin of a ruthless rustling operation. Cattle are stolen, run across the Rio Grande to Mexico, resold in a sham scheme to obtain false documents, then brought back across and resold for big profits. Hardin, beaten and run off once, is determined to come back to San Antonio with the evidence he now has...a tally book of the cattle sales in Mexico, with names, dates, brands and prices. On his way back he has to deal with killers sent to stop him, a stage coach that carries Jeanne Starr on her way to an engagement at the Bella Union Music Hall in San Antonio, and, when the stage arrives, a face-to-face encounter with the tough Roy Stuart himself, the man behind it all. And not just Stuart. His partner is the smiling and unscrupulous Legare. We're in for shoot outs, back shots, bad odds and Alexis Smith singing a couple of songs.
The movie has solid production values, a creepy night-time shoot out in the ruins of the Alamo and one of the most entertaining, over-the-top shoot 'em ups, set in the Bella Union, I've ever seen. Men take bullets too fast to count, then bounce off the bar or grab their chests and fall to the floor. Mirrors shatter, a large, full bar quickly and loudly explodes into glass shards and, in a rococo moment, one villain in a balcony next to the stage is shot, tips over, gets his legs twisted in the curtain ropes and swings and twitches back and forth for a while. Eventually, justice is done in a workmanlike way. We hear the praises of Texas and, in a nice echo of Hardin's and Jeanne's first meeting in a stagecoach, another stagecoach turns around to head back to San Antonio.
For me, the real pleasure was watching two notable actors, Victor Francen and Paul Kelly. Francen was a Belgian who came to America in 1939. He played men who were suave to their fingertips, worldly in outlook and perfectly at home at the roulette table. He always had a gracious smile while he said the most threatening things and did the most deadly deeds. You'll recognize him when you see him. Paul Kelly, on the other hand, was made of rougher material. He once served time for beating a man to death. Kelly also was a fine actor when given a chance. On Broadway, he won the Tony for lead actor when he starred in Command Decision. Naturally enough, when Hollywood made Command Decision into a movie Kelly's role was given to Clark Gable. If you want a sample of outstanding acting so bizarre it's memorable, just watch the scenes Kelly shares with Gloria Grahame in Crossfire.
As for Errol Flynn, he does the kind of job only a charismatic movie star can deliver. Few were better when it came to smiling at danger or laughing at death. Flynn seemed at his best in costumes in his youth, uniforms during WWII and, in my opinion, in well-cut business suits afterwards. After the mid-Forties, costumes, whether cowboy outfits or tight breeches, just didn't seem to do much for the increasingly tired visage or for the notoriety he created. (Kim is the exception.) A suit and a tie, however, were another matter. The movies he made in civilian gear often weren't very good, but he seemed to keep some of his old charisma as well as to be challenged to actually act. That Forsyte Woman is as careful and respectful as an arthritic butler but Flynn as Soames Forsyte does a fine job. In Cry Wolf opposite Barbara Stanwyck, I think he does a superior job in this under-rated old-dark-house movie. (You can watch both occasionally on cable.)
San Antonio is better than a routine western, but still not much more than a pleasant way to spend an hour and a half. It's the story of Clay Hardin and his determination to bring to justice the king pin of a ruthless rustling operation. Cattle are stolen, run across the Rio Grande to Mexico, resold in a sham scheme to obtain false documents, then brought back across and resold for big profits. Hardin, beaten and run off once, is determined to come back to San Antonio with the evidence he now has...a tally book of the cattle sales in Mexico, with names, dates, brands and prices. On his way back he has to deal with killers sent to stop him, a stage coach that carries Jeanne Starr on her way to an engagement at the Bella Union Music Hall in San Antonio, and, when the stage arrives, a face-to-face encounter with the tough Roy Stuart himself, the man behind it all. And not just Stuart. His partner is the smiling and unscrupulous Legare. We're in for shoot outs, back shots, bad odds and Alexis Smith singing a couple of songs.
The movie has solid production values, a creepy night-time shoot out in the ruins of the Alamo and one of the most entertaining, over-the-top shoot 'em ups, set in the Bella Union, I've ever seen. Men take bullets too fast to count, then bounce off the bar or grab their chests and fall to the floor. Mirrors shatter, a large, full bar quickly and loudly explodes into glass shards and, in a rococo moment, one villain in a balcony next to the stage is shot, tips over, gets his legs twisted in the curtain ropes and swings and twitches back and forth for a while. Eventually, justice is done in a workmanlike way. We hear the praises of Texas and, in a nice echo of Hardin's and Jeanne's first meeting in a stagecoach, another stagecoach turns around to head back to San Antonio.
For me, the real pleasure was watching two notable actors, Victor Francen and Paul Kelly. Francen was a Belgian who came to America in 1939. He played men who were suave to their fingertips, worldly in outlook and perfectly at home at the roulette table. He always had a gracious smile while he said the most threatening things and did the most deadly deeds. You'll recognize him when you see him. Paul Kelly, on the other hand, was made of rougher material. He once served time for beating a man to death. Kelly also was a fine actor when given a chance. On Broadway, he won the Tony for lead actor when he starred in Command Decision. Naturally enough, when Hollywood made Command Decision into a movie Kelly's role was given to Clark Gable. If you want a sample of outstanding acting so bizarre it's memorable, just watch the scenes Kelly shares with Gloria Grahame in Crossfire.
As for Errol Flynn, he does the kind of job only a charismatic movie star can deliver. Few were better when it came to smiling at danger or laughing at death. Flynn seemed at his best in costumes in his youth, uniforms during WWII and, in my opinion, in well-cut business suits afterwards. After the mid-Forties, costumes, whether cowboy outfits or tight breeches, just didn't seem to do much for the increasingly tired visage or for the notoriety he created. (Kim is the exception.) A suit and a tie, however, were another matter. The movies he made in civilian gear often weren't very good, but he seemed to keep some of his old charisma as well as to be challenged to actually act. That Forsyte Woman is as careful and respectful as an arthritic butler but Flynn as Soames Forsyte does a fine job. In Cry Wolf opposite Barbara Stanwyck, I think he does a superior job in this under-rated old-dark-house movie. (You can watch both occasionally on cable.)