THE MAVERICK QUEEN once again puts Barbara Stanwyck in a western, once again as a boss of a private fiefdom, and once more saddled with competent but bland Barry Sullivan as a leading man. Directed by Joe Kane, who served in that capacity for a slew of popcorn B-westerns—16 with Gene Autry, 15 with Roy Rogers, five with John Wayne,—this one from 1956 based on a Zane Grey novel. The title tune is sung by Joni James, sounding rather like Patti Page. *

‘A stranger in these parts’—posing as bandit ‘Jeff Younger’, Pinkerton agent ‘Jeff Young’ (Sullivan) goes after ‘The Wild Bunch’: not the one led by Sam Peckinpah’s ‘Pike Bishop’, but the boys also dubbed the ‘Hole in the Wall Gang’ led by Butch Cassidy. Not only do the outlaws evade justice in the mountain scenery, they’re abetted by ‘Kit Banion’ (Stanwyck), whose saloon bears the name that’s also her respect-commanding monicker. One of her paramours is Cassidy’s right-hand gunhand, ‘Sundance’, played with relished menace by Scott Brady. His Sundance isn’t ‘Kid friendly’ like the one later embodied by Robert Redford. Brady’s version is a more predatory type.

Barb handles the tough biscuit role once again, as she did in The Furies and The Violent Men, country cousins to her vixens in noir faves like Double Indemnity. She could do this in her sleep, but the weak box office showing—$1,300,000 & 163rd place, along with the weak performances of her other vehicles that year (These Wilder Years 151st, Crime Of Passion 158th) signaled the range was getting less homey. Even her more loyal fans may have passed, thinking they were being conned by the ‘maverick’ title since just two years before she was Cattle Queen Of Montana. She only made a few more features (the lauded, absurdist Forty Guns and the unsung Trooper Hook) before leaving big screen leading lady chores behind and heading to mostly TV work. Other than her feisty spatting with Brady, the best aspect of this paycheck show are the Colorado locations around Durango and Royal Gorge.

Screenplay duty of Zane’s novel was covered by Kenneth Gamet (Pittsburgh, Flying Leathernecks) and DeVallon Scott, playing out over 90 minutes. Viable supporting players: Mary Murphy (in spirited gal mode, as ‘Lucy Lee’; with a handle like that how could she not be spirited), Wallace Ford (in rumpled scuzzy mood), Howard Petrie (a colorless Butch Cassidy), Jim Davis, Emile Meyer, Walter Sande, John Doucette (as ‘Loudmouth’), and somewhere in there a fella called Cactus Mack, a cousin of Glenn Strange and holder of 290 film and TV credits. Go Western, young man, and mine the past.

* Live & Learn Dept—did you—whippersnappers and fogies alike—know that 50’s songstress Joni James (1930-2022) sold over 100,000,000 records? Holy 45 & 33 rpm’s!  Speaking of yesteryear, we don’t mean to overly diss the reliable Barry Sullivan (1912-1994) as he obviously had appeal to one degree or another: among his 190 film & TV credits over 50 years he drew leads in 13 feature pictures. Besides thrice teaming with Stanwyck, he was matched with Lana Turner, Joan Crawford, Loretta Young and Claudette Colbert. So whaddo I know? Not much, but a little more than I did before finally late-date catching up with The Maverick Queen. In Jeff’s brawling with Sundance, Sullivan’s stunt double is pretty obvious. Likely he was familiar with Brady’s well-earned rep as a roughneck, though it wasn’t quite as trouble-seeking as the rap sheet of his younger brother, Lawrence Tierney.