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A former lawman must return to his guns when his daughter is threatened in this dark-themed western. Zach Provo (James Coburn) was a notorious outlaw who was finally put behind bars by sheriff Sam Burgade (Charlton Heston), who also killed Provo's wife in the midst of a gun battle. Provo is determined to take his revenge on Burgade, and with the help of a handful of other gunmen, he makes a daring escape from jail and kidnaps Susan (Barbara Hershey), Burgade's daughter. Eager for a final showdown with the now-retired sheriff, Provo threatens Susan with multiple rape if Burgade will not face him in a gunfight, and Burgade is forced to take his guns out of mothballs and confront Provo for the sake of his daughter. The Last Hard Men also stars Michael Thomas Parks, Thalmus Rasulala, and Christopher Mitchum.

The never-solved disappearance of Judge Crater in 1930 was the inspiration for RKO's The Judge Steps Out. Alexander Knox (who also co-scripted the film with director Boris Ingster) plays Bailey, a highly respected Boston magistrate who is fed up to the gills with his workload and his troublesome wife (Frieda Inescourt) and daughter (Martha Hyer). Thus, he decides to hit the road, eventually taking a job as a hash-slinger at a roadside diner. Here he is treated with compassion and understanding by his boss Peggy (Ann Sothern), who, unaware of Bailey's true identity, likes him for himself rather than his prestige. This offbeat comedy-drama manages to keep the audience guessing as to how things will turn out for everyone concerned. Filmed in 1947, The Judge Steps Out was withheld from American release for nearly two years; before making the rounds in the U.S., it was shown in Great Britain under the title Indian Summer.

Based on the novel by Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter stars Alan Arkin as John Singer, who is deaf. Singer moves from a small town in order to be close to his institutionalized friend Antonapoulos (Chuck McCann), who is deaf and mentally impaired. Singer rents a room with a family whose father, Mr. Kelly (Biff McGuire), is unable to earn a living due to a serious injury. His teen-aged daughter Mick (Sondra Locke, in her film debut) is at first resentful of Singer's presence, but he ingratiates himself by introducing her to classical music (which he can "feel," if not hear). Singer likewise tries to brighten the lives of such unfortunates as alcoholic Blount (Stacy Keach Jr., also making his first film appearance), dying black doctor Copeland (Percy Rodriguez), and Copeland's poverty-stricken daughter (Cicely Tyson).

One of only five films directed by Academy Award-nominated editor Stuart Gilmore, this 1951 Western stars Robert Young as Dan Craig, a gambler who may be the only man who can stop a war between a tribe of Native Americans and a group of white settlers. Shortly after the U.S. Civil War, Frank Crawford (Reed Hadley), a crooked politician, concocts a scheme to pillage the vast quantities of gold present on Apache tribal land. If Crawford can incite a war, he can clear the Apaches from the area and the gold will be his. Luckily Craig steps in, and with the help of Charlie Wolf (Jack Buetel), a half-Apache, helps prevent the tribe members from playing into Crawford's plan. But when Wolf's sister is murdered, he can no longer resist the urge to rise up, leaving Craig as the only one to avert a disastrous battle.

Contrary to popular belief, no one speaks into microphones hidden in vases in this, the first 100% "all-talking" feature film, although an oversized telephone prop is rather conveniently placed near the actors in one long sequence. Although not nearly as crude as its tattered reputation, Lights of New York is far from thrilling, however. Not so much due to the later so maligned sound-on-disc Vitaphone system, but mainly because this was really a quickie B-Movie helmed by a first time director, Bryan Foy, who seems to have been little more than an inefficient traffic cop. Not that there is all that much traffic in this stage-bound melodrama about Eddie (Cullen Landis), a young kid from Upstate New York conned into fronting for a speakeasy on Broadway. There is the inevitable chorus-girl with a heart of gold (top-billed Helene Costello), the downtrodden floozy (Gladys Brockwell), and a cop-killing gangster boss, Hawk Miller (Wheeler Oakman), whom screenwriters Hugh Herbert and Murray Roth furnished with the film's one memorable line. With the cops closing in on him, Hawk needs a patsy. Planting contraband in poor Eddie's shop, the gang leader then instructs his henchmen to "take. . .him. . .for. . .a. . .ride!" Oakman speaks this much parodied line slowly and in a stentorian manner, lest the audience should fail to understand the grave implications. But Eddie escapes his "ride," and there is a final confrontation. Just as all hope seems lost, Hawk is killed by persons unknown. The murder weapon, however, belongs to the chorus girl and she is about to be arrested by no-nonsense Detective Crosby (Robert Elliott), when the real murderer -- the downtrodden floozy -- gives herself up. The performances in this historic talking picture run the gamut from inept (Costello, Landis) to over-the-top (Brockwell) to adequate (Oakman, comic sidekick Eugene Palette). Perhaps due to the newness of it all, the actors keep flubbing their line -- the poor Miss Costello being the worst offender, with Tom Dugan, a veteran supporting player, a close second. Why Warner Bros. should have chosen this pedestrian gangster melodrama as the first full-length talking picture remains a mystery. The best explanation is that the studio was merely testing the waters. Rather than a prestige project like the previous year's groundbreaking part-talkie The Jazz Singer, Lights of New York was produced for a paltry $23,000 and released not on a reserved-seat basis but in a mere grind house. But to everyone's surprise, the film went on to gross over a million dollars in its first run, proving once and for all that talkies had come to stay. Today, Lights of New York remains a museum piece but despite its tattered reputation, the gangster melodrama is really no worse than the majority of low-budget early talkies.

William Powell is a poor East Side lawyer who works his way up the ladder to assistant prosecutor. He isn't too particular how he uses and misuses the law, much to the dismay of his faithful secretary (Joan Blondell). Powell's downfall comes when he falls for a shady lady (Claire Dodd) who blackmails him for a past misdeed. He escapes prosecution with a hung jury, but the experience rekindles his conscience. With his loving secretary at his side, Powell returns to his old neighborhood to set up an honest legal practice.

At the time of its release, much was made of the fact that La Pointe Courte was directed by a mere "25-year-old girl". That girl was professional photographer Agnes Varda, later hosannahed by aficionados as "The Grandmother of the New Wave." Covering a wide ranging of sociopolitical issues, Varda's first cinematic effort, reportedly lensed on a budget of $20,000, is virtually two films in one, developed in parallel fashion. The twin storylines concern the simultaneous efforts of a husband and wife to mend their broken marriage, but Varda's interests clearly lie in what occurs around the two plotlines rather than the linear progression of the stories themselves. Edited by Alain Resnais, La Pointe Courte was initially dismissed by some shortsided American critics as being "too arty;" it has since been assessed by one critic as "the first film of the French nouvelle vague. Its interplay between conscience, emotions and the real world make it a direct descendant of Hiroshima, Mon Amour."

A Hollywood version of Jacques Deval's 1933 French drama Un Vie Perdue, Journal of a Crime stars Ruth Chatterton as Françoise Moliet, a proud Parisian who refuses to divorce her playwright husband Paul (Adolphe Menjou), even though he is rather publicly dallying with the star of his latest success, Odette (Claire Dodd). Françoise instead sneaks into the girl's dressing room and kills her, a crime for which gangster Costelli (Noel Madison) confesses. Having already one murder on his conscience, Costelli gallantly covers for the much-suffering Françoise, but she, in turn, is overcome with guilt and decides to turn herself in. En route to the police station, however, Françoise is struck by a car and loses her memory. Realizing that his wife has regained her lost innocence, Paul purchases a secluded villa by the sea where Françoise may recuperate. Costelli, meanwhile, is lead to the guillotine.

John Lawrence (Ronald Reagan) is a returning GI. Mary McKinley (Patricia Neal in her film debut) is the girl he left behind. But their reunion will have to wait: John has returned with cockney war bride Lilly Herbish (Virginia Field) in tow. It seems that John married Lilly as a favor to get her into the U.S., intending to divorce her so that she can wed her true love, John's old pal Fred Taylor (Jack Carson). Alas, Taylor has gotten married himself in the interim--and now John is stuck with Lillie. Somewhat cleaned up from Norman Krasna stage original, John Loves Mary is otherwise faithful to its source, right down to the all-smiles curtain call at the end.

Olivia de Havilland stars in this sensationalistic shocker as Mrs. Halyard, a wealthy widow recuperating from a broken hip. Inside her mansion, she becomes trapped between floors in her elevator. She activates an emergency alarm but succeeds only in attracting the attention of the wino (Jeff Corey), who steals goods from her house and sells them to a fence. The wino visits Sade (Ann Sothern), a prostitute, who spreads the plight of Mrs. Hilyard's dilemma to three young hoods, Randall (James Caan), Elaine (Jennifer Billingsley), and Essie (Rafael Campos). The trio follows the wino and the hooker back to the mansion, where they have an orgy, kill the wino, and lock Sade in a closet. Randall taunts Mrs. Hilyard and confronts her with a nasty suicide note from her son, Malcolm (William Swan). Mrs. Hilyard, mustering up her strength, attempts to fight back against Randall and the two other goons.

Jerry Lewis stars in this broad slapstick comedy as Lester March, a TV repairman who dreams of some day being a private detective like his friend and role model Mr. Flint (Jesse White). One night, Lester sees a report on television about Cecilia Albright (Mae Questel), the elderly owner of a successful electronics empire. Cecilia is looking for her missing nephew, who will be the heir to her estate, and Lester decides that this is a case he should try to crack. However, when Lester pays a visit to Cecilia's estate, more than one person remarks that he looks an awful lot like the missing person in question -- including Gregory DeWitt (Zachary Scott), Cecilia's money-hungry attorney who would just as soon the nephew not be found so he could have the fortune to himself. Gregory attempts to kill Lester, but he turns out to be much harder to get rid of than anyone expected. It's Only Money was directed by Frank Tashlin, who after directing a number of classic animated shorts for Warner Bros. moved on to live-action films and made several classic Jerry Lewis vehicles, including two features with onetime partner Dean Martin.

In this adventure, a pilot and a radio commentator crash on an island just off the Australian coast and discover a crazed scientist and his three lovely daughters Venus, Urana, and Mercuria. The girls have never seen a man other than their father. When the commentator realizes that the scientist has been working on atomic experiments, he threatens to expose the scientist. In retaliation, the scientist destroys their airplane. Fortunately, the lovely daughters help them build a raft. Unfortunately, the mad mad scientist sets off a dreadful explosion. The ensuing blast attracts the attention of the Australian authorities. The survivors are soon rescued.

The real Matt Cvetic was a borderline alcoholic with a nasty disposition (he once allegedly beat his sister-in-law so badly she required hospitalization). But Cvetic was also a fervent anti-communist, and so, for a brief period in the early 1950s, he was a folk hero. I Was a Communist for the F.B.I. is the semi-true story of how Cvetic (played by Frank Lovejoy) renounced his friends and family and embraced the Red cause--on behalf of the F.B.I., for whom he was a volunteer undercover agent. The film recounts how Cvetic used his job as a Pittsburgh steelworker to contact various American Communist cell leaders, and how he exposed their insidious plans to overthrow the American government. Since the script infers that among the Reds' "subversive" plans was the Civil Rights Movement, I Was a Communist for the FBI is an embarrassing experience when seen today. Cvetic's memoirs were better dramatized by a 1951 radio series of the same title, starring Dana Andrews.

This simplified (but lavish) remake of the 1933 melodrama The Mystery of the Wax Museum was the most financially successful 3-D production of the 1950s. In his first full-fledged "horror" role, Vincent Price plays Prof. Henry Jarrod, the owner of a wax museum, whose partner, Matthew Burke (Roy Roberts), intends to burn the place down for the insurance money. When Jarrod tries to prevent Burke from torching the museum, he himself is trapped in the conflagration. Years pass: though now confined to a wheelchair, Jarrod manages to open up a new museum in New York, boasting the most incredibly lifelike wax statues ever seen. At the same time, a masked prowler has been stalking the city, murdering people and then stealing their bodies from the mortuary. One of the victims is Jarrod's old nemesis Burke; another is Cathy Gray (Carolyn Jones), the roommate of art student Sue Allen (Phyllis Kirk). On a visit to the wax museum, Sue can't help but notice that the wax likeness of Joan of Arc is a dead ringer for her deceased friend Cathy -- while the courtly Jarrod declares joyously that Sue is the living image of Marie Antoinette. Guess where this is going to wind up? Frank Lovejoy and Paul Picerni co-star as the nominal heroes, while Charles Bronson -- still billed as Charles Buchinsky -- is a menacing presence as Jarrod's deaf-mute chief sculptor (appropriately named "Igor"). No opportunity to show off the 3-D process is wasted during House of Wax; the most memorable stereoscopic moments are provided by garrulous "paddle-ball man" Reggie Rymal. Ironically, Andre De Toth, the film's director, had only one good eye, and had to constantly ask his cast and crew if the various 3-D effects had come off properly.

Ann Sheridan and her then-husband George Brent did their expected box-office duty in the Warner Bros. comedy Honeymoon for Three. Brent plays confirmed-bachelor novelist Kenneth Bixby, who wards off marriage-minded females by pretending to be married to his secretary Anne Rogers (Sheridan). Complications begin piling up when Bixby is arduously pursued by his old flame Julie (Ona Massen), now wed to provincial stuffed-shirt Harvey Wilson (Charles Ruggles). The supporting cast includes such Warners "regulars" as star-to-be Jane Wyman and future producer William T. Orr (who happened to be Jack Warner's son-in-law), not to mention Walter Catlett as a funny waiter. Honeymoon for Three was based on the venerable stage play by George Haight and Alan Scott.

Wearing a curiously (and perhaps deliberately) unattractive blonde wig, Jean Simmons stars in the tense psychological drama Home Before Dark. Having just recovered from a nervous breakdown, Charlotte Bronn (Simmons) returns from a mental institution to the home she shares with her academician husband Arnold (Dan O'Herlihy). Though he tries his best to help Charlotte re-adapt, his efforts are undermined by the insensitive meddling of her stepmother Inez (Mabel Albertson) and stepsister Joan (Rhonda Fleming) who may or may not have been carrying on a romance with Arnold in Charlotte's absence. The untenable situation at home leads Charlotte into a romance with college professor Jake Diamond (Efrem Zimbalist Jr.), who as an ongoing target of anti-semitism has plenty of his own emotional baggage to deal with. What is remarkable about Home Before Dark is that it is a film without a villain: even the most unpleasant characters are drawn as three-dimensional human beings, who behave badly because they really don't know any better. The film was adapted by Robert and Eileen Bassing from Eileen's same-named novel.

Based on Abel Kandel's 1931 play Hot Money, this delightfully daffy comedy from Warner Bros. is a typical example of that studio's turbo-charged dialogue and irreverent attitude. William Powell, at the top of his game here, plays Gar Evans, the "world's foremost promoter," hired by Jewish entrepreneur Ginsberg (George Sidney) to boost a new discovery that may turn sewage into artificial rubber. Unfortunately, after Evans and his minions have talked untold suckers into buying stocks in the dubious venture, the inventor (Harry Beresford) goes missing. The good professor turns up eventually but proves to be quite demented and the entire scheme is about to fall apart when Evans, more or less at the seat of his pants, manages to sweet-talk himself into an even better deal. William Powell is a marvel in this comedy, whether cheerleading a gaggle of would-be salesmen or attempting to persuade a disillusioned Francine (Evelyn Brent), his good luck charm, to stay onboard despite ever impending doom. Miss Brent, who usually had only one expression -- sullen hauteur -- is quite charming as Powell's long-suffering girlfriend; and Frank McHugh, whose comedy relief often proved more grating than funny, is more than tolerable this time around as Powell's rah-rah second lieutenant. And finally there is veteran dialectician George Sidney, whose worried entrepreneur offers some of High Pressure's best laughs. A French-language version, La Bluffeur, was produced later in 1932 featuring Andre Luget as the promoter and Danish comic Torben Meyer as Ginsberg. Warner Bros. remade the story under its original title, Hot Money, in 1936, this time featuring Ross Alexander and Joseph Cawthorn.

In this comedy, a luckless newspaper reporter heads for a coastal resort and finds himself mistaken for a famous dare-devil pilot by two gorgeous girls. Though he knows, better, he willingly does nothing to deny it. Rollicking trouble follows when he discovers that someone is trying to kill the pilot. Unfortunately, when he finally does tell the truth, no one believes him and that is when the fun really begins.

Maybe Errol Flynn was never the war hero that he often played, but he was a capable boxer, and Gentleman Jim makes full use of this skill. Flynn stars as Jim Corbett, the 19th-century American pugilist who introduced "scientific" methods to bare-knuckle boxing. Originally an office clerk, Corbett is introduced to the then-illegal sport of fighting when one of the bank executives sponsors the young man's training at the Olympic Club. His arrogance wins Corbett a few enemies, including high-born lady Victoria Ware (Alexis Smith), whose dislike turns to casual affection when she realizes that Corbett is a sincere young fellow who can back up his boasts. What "Gentleman Jim" desires most in life is a match with reigning heavyweight champ John L. Sullivan (Ward Bond). Corbett and Sullivan finally meet in a bout governed by those new Marquis of Queensbury rules that Corbett has helped popularize. Twenty-one epoch-making rounds later, Corbett emerges victorious. At the victory celebration, Sullivan and Corbett graciously exchange mutual words of respect and affection. At this point, Corbett has totally won over the lovely Victoria -- but hasn't quite convinced his brawling brothers that "scientific" boxing is the wave of the future, and the film ends with a typical Raoul Walsh-directed battle royal. More faithful to the facts than most Errol Flynn biopics (but still with enough poetic license to drive historical purists up a wall), Gentleman Jim is broad, boisterous entertainment. Though it looks expensive, the film was made under Warner Bros.' standard pinchpenny restrictions; if you look closely at that moored ship where Corbett has one of his first professional fights, you'll notice that it's a leftover set from the 1940 Errol Flynn swashbuckler The Sea Hawk.

In this drama, a terminally ill college professor with only three months to live asks some younger colleagues what he should do with the rest of his life. One advises him to murder someone who deserves to die. The professor likes the idea and chooses to off a conniving seductress who really enjoys destroying the lives and loves of other people, including two of his ex-students. After he kills her, he turns himself into the cops.

Virginia Mayo is Flaxy Martin in this complicated Warner Bros. melodrama. Flaxy is a bad girl but good company, especially when she's around criminal attorney Walter Colby (Zachary Scott). When Colby begins to have second thoughts about his gangster cohorts, Flaxy arranges a murder frame, forcing the attorney to go on the run. The bulk of the film is a thrill-packed chase teaming Colby with the film's resident Good Girl, Nora Carson (Dorothy Malone). Also figuring into the proceedings is Elisha Cook Jr., playing his usual shifty little creep. Director Richard L. Bare had only recently moved up from the "Joe McDoakes" comedy shorts to features when he guided Flaxy Martin with skill and aplomb.

Nearly 20 years after it opened on Broadway, the E.Y. Harburg/Fred Saidy musical Finian's Rainbow was committed to film. Set in the mythical southern state of Missitucky, the story involves the whimsical Irishman Finian (Fred Astaire) and his daughter Sharon (Petula Clark) arriving in the community carrying a crock of gold, which they've stolen in the Auld Sod from Ogg the Leprechaun (Tommy Steele). Finian believes that if he buries the crock on American soil, it will grow into an even larger treasure--just as Fort Knox did (or so he thinks). Sharon falls in love with sharecropper Woody Mahoney (Don Francks), who like everyone else in the community is being threatened by the perfidy of Senator Rawkins (Keenan Wynn). While Finian haggles over three wishes with the tricky Ogg, Sharon runs afoul of the racially bigoted Rawkins. She wishes that Rawkins would turn black so that he could walk in someone else's shoes for a change--and this, thanks to Ogg, is exactly what happens. To rescue Sharon and Woody from being burned as witches, Ogg grants a last wish, which turns him into a human being; this is not an altogether bad thing, for Ogg has fallen in love with mysterious mountain gal Susan the Silent (Barbara Hancock). The racial tolerance subtext of Finian's Rainbow, considered radical in 1948, seemed rather antiquated in 1969, though it did allow for a hilarious scene in which a white associate of Judge Rawkins attempts to instruct young black botanist Al Freeman Jr. on the proper way to "act Negro". As Finian, Fred Astaire requested that the role be expanded to allow him to dance a little (as written, the character barely even sings). Most of the original score remains intact, including the hit song "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?" Francis Ford Coppola seemed a curious choice to direct a musical, and indeed the production was a troubled one due to Coppola's inexperience in the genre.

This musical parody follows the exploits of American performers in Hungary. The story begins as a Yankee wrestling trainer becomes friends with a gringo singer who works in the same Budapest nightclub as a female ventriloquist. When the singer is dumped, the trainer offers to help him with his romantic life. The singer then gets involved with the ventriloquist who is married to a notorious swordsman who has successfully killed 40 men in duels. Trouble ensues.

In this drama, set in New York City, two brothers fight it out over a girl. The boys were raised by their Italian mother. The younger brother is adopted and they grow up to pursue very different life directions. The adopted brother goes to college, but the older brother gets involved with crime and ends up going to San Quentin. He is released from prison just as the younger brother graduates. Later the older brother returns home with his girlfriend. It is not long before he is in trouble with the local syndicate. Meanwhile, the girl and the other brother fall in love and decide to marry. The older brother is not amused. Still, when the mob bursts in at the wedding, it is the older brother who keeps them at bay until the ceremony is completed.

The debate still rages as to whether Alfred Hitchcock's 1956 remake of The Man Who Knew Too Much is superior to his own original 1934 version. This two-hour remake (45 minutes longer than the first film) features more stars, a lusher budget, and the plaintive music of Bernard Herrmann (who appears on-camera, typecast as a symphony conductor). Though the locale of the opening scenes shifts from Switzerland to French Morocco in the newer version, the basic plot remains the same. American tourists James Stewart and Doris Day are witness to the street killing of a Frenchman (Daniel Gelin) they've recently befriended. Before breathing his last, the murder victim whispers a secret to Stewart (the Cinemascope lens turns this standard closeup into a truly grotesque vignette). Stewart knows that a political assassination will occur during a concert at London's Albert Hall, but is unable to tell the police: his son (a daughter in the original) has been kidnapped by foreign agents to insure Stewart's silence. The original script for Man Who Knew too Much was expanded and updated by John Michael Hayes and Angus McPhail.

The grand ballet Coppelia is familiar to most dedicated dance aficionados. This film uses the music and some of the story of the ballet but focuses on the inventor of the marvelous mechanical doll of the story, Dr. Coppelius (played by actor Walter Slezak), rather than on the doll itself, Coppelia. However, a substantial portion of the original ballet is incorporated into the story, most notably by Claudia Corday of the Harkness Ballet as Coppelia, and Caj Selling of the Royal Swedish Ballet as Franz. The orchestra and corps de ballet of the Gran Teatro del Liceo de Barcelona provides the essential musical and dance support. If reports are correct, this film adapts the original ballet into something approaching a musical comedy format.

High-rolling gambler "Odds" Owen (Warren William) establishes an American insurance agency created along the lines of Lloyd's of London. Owen insures Kentucky colonel Jefferson Davis Youngblood (Guy Kibbee) against the possibility that Youngblood's actress daughter Marilyn (Claire Dodd) might get married, thereby cutting off the Colonel's allowance. After scaring away several prospective suitors, Owen messes things up by falling in love with Marilyn himself. Odds are that the 60-minute Don't Bet on Blondes would be completely forgotten were it not for the presence of new Warner Bros. contractee Errol Flynn, who appears in two brief scenes as one of Marilyn's boyfriends. It was Flynn's first speaking role at Warners, and he carried it off with class if not distinction.

A weak-willed gambler's compulsion destroys his life in this dramatic character study. In the beginning, he is seen working as a cashier at a small-time Ohio track and then moving into a boardinghouse. There he falls in love with his disapproving landlady's daughter, who ignores her mother's advice and marries him. On their wedding day, he vows to never gamble again, and they move to Chicago where he begins working in a fleabag hotel. Later he is offered the chance to helm a dog track in California. They move and it doesn't take long before he is back to his old tricks. The wife is secretly distraught, but she tries to look the other way until her husband's sleazy ex-girl friend shows up and starts making trouble. Things go from bad to worse when he and the tart win big at a casino and the angry wife uses the cash to leave him. She tells him she has gone home to Ohio and will not take him back until he cleans up his act. He really tries, but it is to no avail and after more struggles, wins, and terrible losses, the story ends on a dark note.

With Dallas, Gary Cooper revived his long-dormant association with westerns. Cooper plays ex-Confederate officer Blayde Hollister, who rides into Dallas in search of the men who killed his family and stole his land. Because he is considered to be an outlaw by the authorities, Hollister is compelled to switch identities with U.S. marshal Martin Wetherby (Leif Erickson). This ruse requires Hollister to explain his plan to Wetherby's lady friend, Tonia Robles (Ruth Roman). One by one, Hollister gets rid of the men responsible for the murders of his loved ones. The most formidable of his enemies, Will Marlow (Raymond Massey), proves to be a bit too clever to fall into Hollister's trap...at least until Marlow shows his hand in the final scene. There's more talk than action in Dallas, but Gary Cooper's laconic performance holds the audience's interest throughout.