Earlier this year, I found myself with a sudden strong hankering to re-watch a bunch of the B-Western movies that I enjoyed so much as a kid and a young teenager—and yes (bonus points if you recognize this quote, not from a B-Western), up to and includin’ now. I’d been on a Sons of the Pioneers kick listening to music, and with memories of the musical numbers in the movies circling I realized that it had actually been quite a while since I’d seen any of them straight through. So I decided to start re-watching all the old Roy Rogers movies in chronological order, to see how well they held up after all these years and just for pure nostalgic fun. And for a little extra fun I’d share my reactions on Twitter under the hashtag #RewatchingRoyRogers. So far I’m six movies in and having a grand time—and discovering some astonishing things about just how much they influenced my imagination and writing, which I either just never realized or had completely forgotten! I might translate all my Twitter threads into blog posts at some point—and since this week is the annual Legends of Western Cinema Week, it seemed like a good time for the first one.

Now, for starters, I’m not going through Roy Rogers’ entire filmography; just a selected block from 1941-48—i.e. just the ones featuring the Sons of the Pioneers, who I frankly admit are the main draw. You should also know I rate my B-Westerns on a rather different scale than other movies—the criteria being (A) the degree to which the Sons of the Pioneers are featured + quality of musical numbers, (B) quality of comedy, (C) general cheesiness and zaniness of plot and action sequences, and (D) any other qualities that films are usually judged by.

With those preliminaries out of the way, let us enjoy Red River Valley.

Welcome to Republic Pictures, 1941, where the sets say 1880, but everyone is dressed to the nines in 1940s fashion, cars & horses chase each other indiscriminately, and everybody blazes away at each other with six-shooters on the slightest provocation.

Ah, it’s good to be back.

(Does anyone else experience a rush of instant childhood nostalgia at the sight of this shack on the Iverson Movie Ranch or is it just me?)

I have to say, seeing it again after many years Red River Valley surprised me with how solid it is of its kind. Snappy dialogue, flows along smoothly, and the plot, within the context of B-Western Land, is decently substantial.

As B-Western enthusiasts will know to their pain, in the 1950s Republic cut down a whole slew of Roy Rogers films to under an hour for television—AND DESTROYED THE ORIGINAL NEGATIVES. So the uncut versions of many movies are considered “lost”, and the musical numbers were the main casualties. Thus Red River Valley has mostly scraps and fragments of songs—we are obviously missing three-quarters of “Sunset on the Trail,” and I’m pretty sure we lost most of “Chant of the Wanderer,” one of the most terrific, unique Sons of the Pioneers originals ever, which I’d love to have seen performed live. (Listen to their recorded version here.) You’d think that would make the movie rate lower on my scale—but we do get one full, glorious musical scene, with the Pioneers at their very peak rolling out the classic “When Payday Rolls Around.”

Oh. I mentioned a plot, didn’t I? In a nutshell, some crooks with a nattily dressed ringleader (Trevor Bardette) and the inimitable Hal Taliaferro as the brawn are attempting to steal cash, stocks, water, and land, in that order. Roy figures it out pretty quickly—almost as quickly as the viewer—but can’t get the pompous sheriff to believe him, which necessitates the kidnapping of said sheriff and his pretty but skeptical daughter (a young Gale Storm, whose hairstyle and wardrobe I’d happily accept for myself). Which explains, of course, how the Pioneers ended up performing a jailhouse serenade. It won’t be the last time we see them singing behind bars in this series.

The best part of the film, honestly, is a plum role for George “Gabby” Hayes in all his crusty, growly, chuckling, toothless glory. He’s the town barber and newspaper editor, and I love his little combination office (with his daughter running the phone switchboard over in a corner). Gabby gets all the best lines and the best moments, the highlight of which is him chasing midnight intruders in an ancient Model T, clad in a nightshirt and brandishing a shotgun. Classic.

“Say, Gabby, what would you do if you had a hundred and eighty-two thousand dollars in cash?”

“First I’d buy a new barber chair, and then I’d lock the door and sit in it.”

Along the way we get a nice twist on the tie-a-rope-to-the-window-bars jailbreak, some highly questionable science involving a punctured gas tank, and a pretty cool stunt sequence with stuntmen climbing out of a moving car onto galloping horses. There’s also a cute part for Sally Payne, the very best of the relatively rare breed of female comic sidekicks, as Gabby’s daughter (actually, it’s her outfit during the radio broadcast and jailbreak scenes that is my favorite bit of fashion in the film), paired up with the Pioneers’ resident comedian Pat Brady as a comical secondary love interest, which works perfectly. More nostalgia, too, at the sight of the classic 1940s “woody” station wagon, a fixture in so many of these movies, which features prominently in several scenes.

(And watch for the great little goof during the final song, “Springtime on the Range,” where Tim Spencer accidentally begins singing along with Roy’s solo line and catches himself with a comical look on his face after a couple of words.)

So there you have it. I don’t really go in for star ratings since I find them rather limiting, but if I was to put it on a star basis, by B-Western standards Red River Valley would be a solid four of five!

So what do you think—would you be up for more #RewatchingRoyRogers posts here on the blog?