The Three Outlaws (Associated Film Releasing Corporation, 1956)

They bore the mark of Satan, they bore the mark of Cain

So says the title song of The Three Outlaws, a yarn about the exploits of real-life outlaws Butch Cassidy, Bill Carver (also known as Will Carver), and the Sundance Kid south of the U.S. border. In real-life and in the film, the outlaws call themselves the Wild Bunch. Their exploits, however, are mostly fictional: another example of not watching Westerns for history lessons.

Associated Film Releasing Corporation (AFRC) released the film. AFRC was such a small outfit, it doesn’t have a Wikipedia page (!)

But, AFRC was founded in 1955 and headquartered in the KTTV complex on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. It was a successor to Lippert Pictures after Robert J. Lippert and 20th Century Fox started Regal Films.

AFRC made four pictures, all Westerns, and distributed several others before folding. The Three Outlaws was the third of the four.

All four of the in-house AFRC films were produced by Sigmund Neufeld and directed by Sam Newfield. In spite of different surnames, the men were brothers. Long-time readers might recognize their names from Jeff’s posts about a series of Billy the Kid films from the 40s (Billy the Kid’s Gun Justice, Billy the Kid’s Fighting Pals, and so forth), also produced by Sigmund and directed by Sam. The Billy the Kids were released by Producers Releasing Corporation (PRC).

The Neufeld/Newfield partnership was responsible for a substantial proportion of PRC’s output. Ridiculously prolific, Sam Newfield directed films at PRC under his own name, plus two different pseudonyms, to add ‘variety’ to the studio’s roster of directors!

The studio was taken over in 1947, but this did not stop the brothers. They continued churning out low-budget movies well into the 50s.

Viewers only familiar with the movie’s Neufeld/Newfield ‘pedigree’ might come into The Three Outlaws with certain expectations. Happily, the brothers have a few surprises which perhaps confound those expectations.

The first surprise is the occasional humorous flair of the dialogue. The screenwriter responsible for that dialogue, Orville Hampton, mostly wrote genre fare, both for large screen and small; Jeff refers to him as a ‘hack’ in his post about The Black Whip. Still, he was an Oscar-nominated hack, having received a nomination (with a co-writer, Raphael Hayes) for the screenplay of One Potato, Two Potato in 1965.

Hampton’s work on The Three Outlaws is rather densely plotted for a programmer. But, even with criminals as main characters and much plot, the film is not overly heavy, for two acts at least; although the tone shifts in the last act, the film initially has a light touch, deftly handled by the cast.

That cast is the second surprise from the brothers, as the film features two unusually strong lead actors for a low-budget oater. During the 50s, the sheer volume of cinematic Westerns occasionally meant top billing for actors known more for supporting or character roles: Steven McNally, Forrest Tucker, and Jim Davis, to name a few. And, in The Three Outlaws, Neville Brand and Alan Hale Jr.

Neville Brand plays Butch Cassidy. His wide face, heavy-lidded eyes, distinctly rough-hewn voice, and blocky physical presence graced many a Western. Readers of this blog probably know him well, not least because his work earned a career retrospective from Jeff Arnold. His work is generally enjoyable, and so it is here.

Neville Brand’s screen image in one still

Alan Hale Jr plays the Sundance Kid. Hale is certainly a familiar presence to Westernistas, usually either boisterous or menacing as a henchman, sidekick, or lawman. Some may know his work on Gilligan’s Island; the sitcom was syndicated on local U.S. television for a time. He sports spectacular sideburns and his big, bluff presence makes for a fine outlaw. But the script gives this Sundance Kid a side which stretches Hale. More on this later.

The film opens with the three titular characters riding into town and entering a US Army recruiting office. The office is papered with posters saying Uncle Sam needs men, no questions asked. Unfortunately, the recruiting sergeant recognizes the notorious outlaws and starts to telegraph the sheriff. After shooting the telegraph, not the recruiter, Butch and cohorts ride away with this admonition:

Remember, the next time the Wild Bunch pulls a job, we were ready to quit for good and join the Army! You wouldn’t give us a chance!

Perhaps predictably, the Wild Bunch does not wait long to pull a job. Butch talks about going straight… while he, Sundance, and Carver wait for a crony, the Tall Texan, who has information about potential targets on the next train. (Incidently, the real Wild Bunch had a member, Ben Kilpatrick, with the nickname of Tall Texan.) The Texan arrives, the train follows soon after, and the gang is not content to merely rob it: they also hijack it, leaving the stationmaster and the unfortunate Texan dead at the station.

The film then introduces third lead Bruce Bennett as Pinkerton detective Charlie Trenton. Trenton and two other men in suits discuss Butch and the Wild Bunch’s many crimes; we learn that the hijacked train was abandoned at the border and the outlaws made off with a tidy sum of money, presumably entering Mexico.

Unfortunately, the Trenton character is as dry as unbuttered toast, which establishes the movie’s central conundrum: the de rigueur song during the credits (by an unnamed singer and surprisingly not terrible) paints the three outlaws as bad; Bennett’s Pinkerton detective, ostensibly a good guy, repeatedly indicates the three outlaws are bad. Yet, the movie’s non-criminal characters are terribly uninteresting while its outlaws mostly have charisma to spare. The exceptions are the Tall Texan, who bites the dust in about a minute of running time, and poor Bill Carver, who has little to say, less to do, and doesn’t even make it to the film’s climax.

The film then fades to a caption of ‘Mexico’ over a town which has vaguely Spanish flavor. The outlaws enter a bank and ask for its president; they want to deposit their haul from the train. An amusing exchange follows as Butch keeps slapping down money, Sundance reels off helpful tips about keeping it safe, and the president and teller stare wide-eyed:

President: You men obviously know much about bankers. You weren’t perhaps in the banking business?

Butch: Mmmm, yeah, I, uh, I guess you could say that.

Sundance: In a way.

Hale had comedic chops throughout his career. As for Brand, the filmmakers do a good job of playing against his established image as a tough guy for some lightly comic moments.

Alas, another character happens to be loitering in the bank and observes the deposit. His demeanor immediately identifies him as untrustworthy; strangely, the tips from Sundance do not include shooing away shifty types. The man, later identified only as El Raton, slips out of the bank.

Meanwhile, we find that Butch has a plan for going straight. The outlaws have acquired a ranch on the edge of town. To introduce themselves to the town’s leading citizens, they are throwing a party that very evening and of course the bank president is invited.

El Raton gallops to a cliffside location. We find it houses the lair of local bandit El Gallo, played with relish by Rodolfo Hoyos Jr, and his moll Polimita, played by Arkansas native Jeanne Carmen in her first legitimate film role. El Raton shares his intelligence about Butch’s stash and convinces El Gallo to rob the bank.

El Gallo and his gang of banditos ride away at speed, breaking Jeff Arnold’s rule of seven by at least a couple of stunt riders.

The scene changes to the party at the outlaws’ ranch and the film introduces the last of its main characters, the local Colonel in the constabulary and his lovely daughter, Rita. Butch makes a point of sweet talking the Colonel, who tells him the town is bedeviled by a very famous group of outlaws. Butch is understandably concerned and confused… until the Colonel mentions El Gallo.

Sundance turns from one woman and locks eyes with Rita. He immediately contrives a moment alone with her, stealing a kiss (and earning a slap). The audience has learned the Sundance Kid is a Ladies Man.

Now, even in 1956, Alan Hale had been acting for a long time. He was a professional. He pitches the woo as written in the script (presumably). He is not bad as a raffish criminal Lothario, but outlawin’ is his real strength in this film. He outlaws with aplomb.

The party is interrupted by the sound of a loud explosion. A constable appears to inform the Colonel and the bank president that the bank was robbed.

The president laments the loss of his vault; Butch and Sundance lament the loss of their money.

In his lair, an effusive El Gallo divvies large shares of the loot to himself and Polimita, smaller shares to the long line of banditos, and a mere $20 to El Raton (amusingly pulled from Polimita’s stack of bills). El Raton reacts poorly to his small cut and threatens El Gatto, who reacts violently to the threats and chastens the craven El Raton.

Later, after more exposition in the Pinkerton office, the Colonel gathers the three outlaws. Rumors of bankruptcy are flying about the town, he solemnly informs them, and debtors are usually jailed. Or, in their case, deported.

This news, of course, causes the outlaws no end of consternation.

Ah, but El Raton is caught passing his $20 bill. The Colonel dutifully informs Butch. Now knowing the inside man, the outlaws quickly corral El Raton. They ‘convince’ him to be their tip-off man. A noose provides some incentive…

… as does a 25% cut of any proceeds. All El Raton has to do is tip-off the Wild Bunch first and then tip-off El Gallo.

Butch, Sundance, and the other guy then commit multiple robberies, always managing to leave the crime scene with loot shortly before El Gallo and his banditos arrive. The thievery is, naturally enough, attributed to El Gallo.

Still, Butch is very clear: the Wild Bunch will recoup their money and then go straight. Butch also chides Sundance about his dalliance with the Colonel’s daughter. Sundance leaves the ranch in a huff.

The Colonel pays another call about the nettlesome issue of money. But Butch is ready for him, passing a wad of bills to settle the trio’s debts.

Meanwhile, in spite of Butch’s rebuke. Sundance immediately has a rendezvous with Rita. He gives her a bauble; she gives him a locket with her picture inside of it.

At this point, the scene returns to the Pinkerton office for the last time, thankfully. The Wild Bunch’s American currency causes trouble once more, as exchanges are receiving bills passed by El Gallo’s banditos. Charlie deduces the source of the cash and heads south to capture Butch and the Bunch.

As Charlie makes his trek to Mexico, the Wild Bunch has once again beaten El Gallo’s gang to a heist. Rather than riding away, though, they hang back, just off the road, and watch El Gallo and his banditos thunder past… all three outlaws still wearing bandanas over their faces, naturally.

While Sundance doesn’t drop his bandana after the theft, he does manage to drop the locket given to him by Rita. And the Colonel finds it.

A series of confrontations follow.

The Colonel confronts his daughter, mentioning that her picture was found at the scene of a crime.

The dismayed Rita then confronts the Sundance Kid. He attempts to be charming and explain away the situation, but Rita is unconvinced.

Bill Carver is finally given something to do besides playing Zeppo to Butch and Sundance’s Groucho and Chico: he sees and recognizes Charlie Trenton. Carver quickly informs Butch.

Trenton visits the Colonel and Rita and shows them a WANTED poster with a curiously posed picture of the three outlaws.

Realizing his rancher friends are not who they seem, the Colonel raids the ranch with Trenton in tow. The outlaws are not home, but El Raton happens to visit; he too gets to see the WANTED poster.

Trenton immediately cracks El Raton’s role in framing El Gallo for the Wild Bunch’s robberies. The detective also decides that he and the Colonel should partner with El Gallo to nab the three outlaws. To the astonishment of the straight arrow constable, Trenton suggests a face-to-face meeting with El Gallo.

A meeting is arranged between the Colonel, the detective, and the bandito boss. All three promise to arrive alone.

The three men parley. And strike a partnership after Trenton, of course, relays every detail of El Raton’s duplicity… and after both El Gallo and the Colonel confess to double-crossing the other by bringing their men. Banditos and then constables heartily cheer when their presence is revealed by their boss.

Two notes about this scene. First, El Gallo and the Colonel’s men reveal themselves in long shots, and the print on view was less than sharp, but one would guess that the same stuntmen are in both groups but with different costumes. Second, the scene ends with a film trope both beloved and mocked: El Gallo begins to laugh; after a moment of uncertainty, the Colonel and Trenton join him, and the frame freezes.

The tone of the film, previously breezy, darkens as circumstances begin to squeeze the Wild Bunch.

The new partners set a trap for the outlaws with the hapless El Raton mentioning a mine’s payroll as bait. Trenton casually tells Rita that the three outlaws could be killed; the Colonel casually locks up his daughter to avoid any chance of a tip-off.

Butch still talks about going straight, but mentions that most of their previous booty has gone to bribes so they can leave the country. Butch and Sundance then quarrel about robbing the mine as their one last job (so often a plot thread of films with criminals as lead characters), but Sundance prevails. The three outlaws ride to the mine. An impressively-staged chase sequence ensues which involves the Wild Bunch, El Gallo’s banditos, and the Colonel’s constables.

As for the denouement, e-pards, you will just have to watch.

Bennett, far right, in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

Bruce Bennett’s performance isn’t bad; his character is a stereotype, the law personified, and he does what he can with the material given. He acted in some excellent movies, although his roles in bigger pictures were usually smaller. But his backstory is an interesting one.

Bennett’s birth name was Herman Brix. As Herman Brix, he was an accomplished collegiate athlete, earned an Olympic medal, and played the lead character in a mid-30s Tarzan serial (released concurrently with MGM’s Tarzan movies starring Johnny Weismuller); he later changed his name to avoid being typecast in Tarzan roles. Whatever one thinks of The Three Outlaws, it probably compares favorably with a later Bennett credit, The Fiend of Dope Island… co-written by none other than Bruce Bennett!

Jeanne Carmen also has a backstory: an accomplished golfer who could perform trick shots, she used those skills to hustle gullible men on the links. She later became a pin-up, appeared in a burlesque film, and acted in other low-budget films after The Three Outlaws. One was with Lex Barker. Barker also was a cinematic Tarzan but not in his film with Carmen, so among Carmen’s distinctions is having acted alongside multiple Tarzans but not in Tarzan movies.

Both Brand and Hale had long acting careers after The Three Outlaws, bringing their familiar faces and personas to numerous movies and television programs. After Hale’s three-year stint as a castaway on Gilligan’s Island, and unlike some members of the cast, Hale made peace with his sitcom alter ego. In the 70s, he actually leveraged it into a business opportunity by opening a maritime-themed restaurant, Alan Hale’s Lobster Barrel, in Los Angeles, where he would make appearances and greet crustacean-crunching diners.

Unlike Bennett, who lived to 100, both Hale and Brand passed at relatively young ages, 67 and 71, respectively. Both deaths were from diseases probably caused by years of heavy smoking.

For those with more interest in the brothers Neufeld/Newfield, they are the subject of a recent book entitled Poverty Row Royalty written by Thomas Reeder. This writer has not yet read it, but looks forward to doing so.

Very few low-budget oaters give one food for thought after the closing credits. This one does, or did for this viewer. Crime, consequences, and the actual ‘hero’ of the piece, if it has one: all topics pondered by the author. For these reasons, and for its enjoyable performances, The Three Outlaws rewards the 70+ minutes spent watching it.

From dukefilmography.com; Sam Newfield is to Alan Hale’s right

References:

Sam Newfield at b-westerns.com

Sam Newfield at dukefilmography.com

Sam Newfield at sensesofcinema.com