This all-black movie had the usual B-western qualities in both plot and action. There's a singing cowboy (Herbert Jeffrey) and his comic sidekick (Lucius Brooks), a love interest (Artie Young), bad guys (led by Clarence Brooks) trying to steal a radium mine, a frame-up, an all-too-easy escape, etc. I was not too impressed with Jeffrey as a cowboy, but he sings well, accompanied by The Four Tones, a group playing string instruments. But I enjoyed most the comedy of both Lucius Brooks and the ranch cook, F.E. Miller. The best sequence had them investigating a house where a murder may have been committed. Something scares them so badly they run all the way home, leaving their horses back at the house. And when they sit down, their boots are smoking. This funny bit made me laugh and feel guilty that I did so, because their behavior (fear and cowardice) was so stereotypical of some blacks in these early movies. But these so-called "race" films were made by blacks and intended for black audiences. They were very popular, proving that my guilt is really unfounded. When a bit is funny it knows no race boundaries.
Review of Harlem Rides the Range
