In his long career making Hollywood westerns you will not find the title Riding Shotgun among Randolph Scott's most memorable forays. In fact it's likely to be found near the bottom as this 1954 Warner Brothers opus is certainly inferior. Despite being shot in color and boasting some recognizable faces this film suffers from a deficient script, weak dialogue, a poorly staged finale, and a cheapjack, backlot look.
The story revolves around Larry DeLong (Scott) in the title profession and his determination to kill outlaw Dan Maraday (James Millican). Maraday plans to shoot up the stagecoach Larry is protecting in order to pull a posse out of the town of Deep Water so he can rob its undefended gambling house. Larry is duped from his post and left for dead while the Maraday Gang assaults the coach. He escapes his grave predicament but can't convince anyone in town of Maraday's scheme; in fact they all believe him to be in on the stagecoach robbery. The remaining run time is absorbed by Larry dodging assassination attempts by the suddenly bloodthirsty townsfolk while determined to kill Maraday and thwart the gambling hall heist himself.
There is a kernel of a good idea in the plot which draws heavily on High Noon and the current McCarthy witch-hunting. However, the movie falls flat in its execution of this narrative due to the shoddy script. First of all, the film relies on unnecessary narration from Larry which only reinforces the action and insults the moviegoer's intelligence. Furthermore the screenplay goes to great lengths to portray Larry, whom the citizens know, as the ultimate gentleman and makes the town's dislike of him hard to fathom; if he were some dubious character this animosity would work better. As for the residents of Deep Water, a more despicable lot of cowards, morons, and hotheads couldn't be found anywhere. In fairness Larry does a lousy job explaining himself but they are so quick to condemn him that it becomes comical; everything Larry does is twisted into some heinous crime in the retelling amongst themselves. It gets to the point you want their gambling hall to be robbed. Plot holes are abundant, not the least of which is why they didn't simply kill Larry at the beginning instead of providing some Batman-level predicament he could easily escape from (there is a dopey attempt to explain this). And evidently the only person who can identify Maraday is the wounded stagecoach driver; the famous master criminal strolls around town for a third of the film unrecognized by everyone else. There's more but you get the idea.
As for the performances, it begins with star Randolph Scott who provides his standard turn as the conscientious hero. When not dodging the bullets of a few lily-livered citizens he's adept at slugging varmints, shooting guns out of hands, and patting boys on the head. Running away with the acting honors is Wayne Morris as Deputy Tub Murphy; an aptly named man more at home with a fork than a gun. Morris has a field day scratching his chest, patting his false belly, and fending off a case of permanent indigestion. The role itself is well written as he is a decent man willing to uphold law and order while acknowledging he's no gunslinger. Honestly the film would have more dramatic weight if he had the leading role while Larry was a secondary character.
The remaining supporting performances are perfunctory with a few exceptions. Fritz Feld emotes as if he believed he was in a different movie than everyone else as the zany saloonkeeper; the broad comedy he employs is out of place in this otherwise grim tale. Charles Bronson has one of his earliest roles as Maraday's bungling lieutenant and the man responsible for not simply shooting Larry in the head. On top of that he blabs the entire plan away which enables Larry to finally get the drop on the gang. The other notable player is Vic Perrin as the creepy dude silently brandishing a rope; not sure what that was all about other than him possibly having a hemp fetish or some unnatural lust for a lynching.
There is some evidence suggesting this film was intended to be a more complex and thoughtful exercise into the dangers of rushing to judgement and doing the right thing. Ultimately these ideas were largely jettisoned in favor of a more formulaic, albeit inferior, oater. The dialogue and motivations amongst the townsfolk are a fatal flaw as they come across as despicable while the outlaw gang, despite having a fairly ingenious heist scenario planned, ultimately succumb to stupidity. What evolves is a substandard Randolph Scott western where the hero emerges unscathed and wants to enjoy his supper in a town that desperately tried to terminate him.
The story revolves around Larry DeLong (Scott) in the title profession and his determination to kill outlaw Dan Maraday (James Millican). Maraday plans to shoot up the stagecoach Larry is protecting in order to pull a posse out of the town of Deep Water so he can rob its undefended gambling house. Larry is duped from his post and left for dead while the Maraday Gang assaults the coach. He escapes his grave predicament but can't convince anyone in town of Maraday's scheme; in fact they all believe him to be in on the stagecoach robbery. The remaining run time is absorbed by Larry dodging assassination attempts by the suddenly bloodthirsty townsfolk while determined to kill Maraday and thwart the gambling hall heist himself.
There is a kernel of a good idea in the plot which draws heavily on High Noon and the current McCarthy witch-hunting. However, the movie falls flat in its execution of this narrative due to the shoddy script. First of all, the film relies on unnecessary narration from Larry which only reinforces the action and insults the moviegoer's intelligence. Furthermore the screenplay goes to great lengths to portray Larry, whom the citizens know, as the ultimate gentleman and makes the town's dislike of him hard to fathom; if he were some dubious character this animosity would work better. As for the residents of Deep Water, a more despicable lot of cowards, morons, and hotheads couldn't be found anywhere. In fairness Larry does a lousy job explaining himself but they are so quick to condemn him that it becomes comical; everything Larry does is twisted into some heinous crime in the retelling amongst themselves. It gets to the point you want their gambling hall to be robbed. Plot holes are abundant, not the least of which is why they didn't simply kill Larry at the beginning instead of providing some Batman-level predicament he could easily escape from (there is a dopey attempt to explain this). And evidently the only person who can identify Maraday is the wounded stagecoach driver; the famous master criminal strolls around town for a third of the film unrecognized by everyone else. There's more but you get the idea.
As for the performances, it begins with star Randolph Scott who provides his standard turn as the conscientious hero. When not dodging the bullets of a few lily-livered citizens he's adept at slugging varmints, shooting guns out of hands, and patting boys on the head. Running away with the acting honors is Wayne Morris as Deputy Tub Murphy; an aptly named man more at home with a fork than a gun. Morris has a field day scratching his chest, patting his false belly, and fending off a case of permanent indigestion. The role itself is well written as he is a decent man willing to uphold law and order while acknowledging he's no gunslinger. Honestly the film would have more dramatic weight if he had the leading role while Larry was a secondary character.
The remaining supporting performances are perfunctory with a few exceptions. Fritz Feld emotes as if he believed he was in a different movie than everyone else as the zany saloonkeeper; the broad comedy he employs is out of place in this otherwise grim tale. Charles Bronson has one of his earliest roles as Maraday's bungling lieutenant and the man responsible for not simply shooting Larry in the head. On top of that he blabs the entire plan away which enables Larry to finally get the drop on the gang. The other notable player is Vic Perrin as the creepy dude silently brandishing a rope; not sure what that was all about other than him possibly having a hemp fetish or some unnatural lust for a lynching.
There is some evidence suggesting this film was intended to be a more complex and thoughtful exercise into the dangers of rushing to judgement and doing the right thing. Ultimately these ideas were largely jettisoned in favor of a more formulaic, albeit inferior, oater. The dialogue and motivations amongst the townsfolk are a fatal flaw as they come across as despicable while the outlaw gang, despite having a fairly ingenious heist scenario planned, ultimately succumb to stupidity. What evolves is a substandard Randolph Scott western where the hero emerges unscathed and wants to enjoy his supper in a town that desperately tried to terminate him.