Few genres have changed more frequently than the western genre, which consists of clear delineations between periods, with very little overlap unless a film is constructed as an intentional throwback. Another genre in which this has taken place is the film noir, which also reached its peak at some point in the middle of the 20th century, and then declined in its purest form, replaced by more experimental or subversive versions of these stories, which ultimately then took over and became the primary representative of this genre for a specific generation, only to be replaced by the next major movement. It’s a continuous process, and one that is quite interesting to view from a distance. Considering the changes that defined them, it is quite interesting that we have a few examples of films that blend both genres, and what’s even more surprising is how some of these didn’t come about in recent years, but rather right at the peak of both genres. Frontier Gambler is one of the more compelling westerns made during the 1950s (coming the same year as The Searchers, arguably the greatest western of all time), and one of the reasons it is such a peculiar work is primarily because, beneath the surface there is a very compelling sense of wanting to approach the subject matter differently. Directed by Sam Newfield (a director so prolific, he adopted pseudonyms to hide the fact that he was responsible for the lion’s share of his studio’s productions), and who assembled quite a gifted cast and crew to bring the story of a murder committed in the Old West, the film is the perfect collision of styles, genres and ideological subjects that blur together to form a vibrant and captivating tapestry of a very particular moment in American history, as seen through a far more caustic lens, which adds nuance and heft to an already complex and compelling work of classical-era storytelling.

Several aspects of Frontier Gambler make it profoundly unique, since this is a western that has such a firm control of its vision, it is capable of going in search of a range of other ideas, sampling from several different genres and constructing a story so wildly different, it doesn’t feel like any of the other films being produced at the time. As we’ve already mentioned, this film exists at the perfect intersection of western and film noir, two genres that hypothetically should not work well together, but somehow manage to mesh beautifully under the assured and complex direction of Newfield, who works closely with Orville H. Hampton (who was similarly more known for writing low-budget genre films, so this represents a significant achievement for him alongside the director) to construct a fascinating screenplay that interrogates and provokes themes without paying drawing too much attention away from the aspects that audiences were so eager to see. Some have found the correlations between Frontier Gambler and Otto Preminger’s masterpiece Laura, and whether or not it was designed to be a remake, with the events transposed from New York City in the 1940s to a small Old West town in the late 1800s is up to interpretations (although it is quite evidently an intentional remake, although it never refers to the previous film as a source of its inspiration), and this is certainly a fascinating concept, especially in how it borrows some of the more intriguing aspects of Preminger’s film and reworks them into a different context, which adds nuance to its depiction of gender roles and how the Old West was not only defined by stereotypical lawmen and bandits, but also by the businesses that gradually were built during the frontier era. It is certainly not the most thorough or layered depiction of the era, and numerous inconsistencies keep the film from being entirely plausible, but its fascinating approach, whereby we find the western being combined with a classic whodunnit, immediately grabs our attention and manages to hold it for long enough to be convincing.

Something that we didn’t find particularly often with this era of westerns, especially those produced on a shoestring budget, is the inability to attract a very particular calibre of actors. This is not to deride the hardworking individuals that lent their talents to bringing these characters to life, but when it comes to getting major stars, many of them struggled, and instead had to settle for lesser-known actors, who were more than eager to take on these roles, since they were often very simple and based on broad archetypes, and thus didn’t require an immense amount of work to be successful – and as a result, there aren’t many particularly brilliant performances contained in these films. However, much like everything else in Frontier Gambler, we find some genuinely great work being done by the cast, who are all quite good. John Bromfield has the unenviable task of being the dyed-in-the-wool moral soul of the film, the valiant detective who is supposedly free of flaws, and exists just to solve the mystery and save the day, not having much internal conflict or complexity. Yet, he still finds ways to make the character interesting, even in those moments where other actors are in focus. Kent Taylor is perhaps the best performer in the film – the entire second act is centered on him, as we leap into the past via his testimony, in which he describes how he came to raise Sylvia, chronicling their years together as he took on the part of her surrogate parent and mentor, until she eventually outsmarted him and went in her direction, which was ultimately the catalyst for the film. The character is the perfect combination of good and evil, being one of the more sympathetic villains we are likely to find, which is a rare change of pace for a genre that is usually defined by its one-dimensional villains that are almost always purely evil. Coleen Gray has a late entry into the film (since her presence reveals the twist), but she commands the screen every moment, becoming the emotional heart of the entire story. It’s peculiar how this very small film managed to have such a terrific cast, but it helps elevate Frontier Gambler far above a by-the-numbers western, making it far more complex.

Yet, even beyond the more experimental approach that comes with the genre conventions and the distinctly strange tone that is evoked throughout the story, Frontier Gambler is a very stylish film in a way that betrays the fact that it was produced as one of the countless Poverty Row westerns at the time. Mercifully, the filmmakers had the benefit of time and progress, the industry having gotten to a point where even the poorest studios were capable of doing good work by having access to decent resources – perhaps not on the same level as the great masters of the genre, who were given the very best technology and artistic resources that the industry could offer, but enough to weave together a compelling film that has a visual scope just as strong as some of its more prestigious contemporaries. This film presents a very vivid depiction of the Old West – it is objectively very well-constructed, and it has its moments where it looks just as beautiful as anything being produced by a major studio, which proves the virtue of resourcefulness and how even the smallest artistic flourish can have an incredible impact. Some striking images accompany the more jagged tone that defines this film and contributes to its shifting identity, and we frequently find ourselves enthralled by the opportunity to explore this world, examining it from a very different perspective. The contributions from several of the other collaborators on the film – the melancholic musical compositions by Paul Dunlap, which is one of the most beautiful western scores of the era, and Edward Linden’s astonishing photography that may not be particularly complex, but still makes a profound impact based on the simplicity, all align to create this incredibly captivating western. It all aligns back with the fact that this film had a strong directorial approach, and while it may sometimes be lacking in certain areas in terms of the narrative (although the screenplay is a lot better than it ought to have been for a film of this calibre), it is certainly not nearly as weak as many of the other cheaply-produced, rapidly-made westerns that defined this particular section of the genre.

Newfield may be primarily viewed as an overly-prolific filmmaker, but despite this reputation, he developed a strong style, since many of his films are incredibly well-directed, to the point where we have to wonder if, had he been working in later decades, whether he would be one of the formative directors in the New Hollywood movement, since he had a penchant for challenging conventions, with his only impediment being the lack of the same resources at a time when a film needed to be a lot stronger to make an impression. Frontier Gambler is a fascinating film in both form and content – even if we view it as nothing more than a cheap, unofficial remake of a masterpiece from the previous decade, there is still an artistic resonance that drives this film and helps it be far more than just an hour of cheaply-produced horse riding and gun fighting (a reductive way to refer to this era of Poverty Row westerns, but one that is nonetheless accurate for the majority of these films), and instead pursues something much deeper and far more profound. There is an elegance to the film that is remarkable – the efforts to which the director goes to evoke a sense of unease and discomfort, despite targeting the mainstream, are remarkable, and there are even a few poetic moments scattered in between the broader, more action-packed sequences. It’s a compelling western with a sardonic sense of humour and immensely intriguing approach to the storytelling process, which is done through blending genres with a certain elegance and complexity that is certainly not to be expected from a film that is so small, yet undeniably one of the better productions from a very specific era in Hollywood history, and one that often deserves far more credit for these brief bursts of artistic brilliance than it is perhaps given from a contemporary perspective.