“BOB HOPE’S 10 GALLON HATS”

By Raymond Benson

Sometimes a little Bob Hope goes a long way. There’s no denying that Hope was one of the more popular comic stars of the 1940s and 50s. His star began to wane in the 60s, and then most of the Baby Boomer generation knew him as perhaps the greatest host that the Academy Awards ceremony ever had.

During Hope’s most active years, he made many solo pictures that were truly funny. He was also established as Bing Crosby’s partner in the massively successful “Road to…” movies, which arguably launched Hope’s career as a leading or co-leading man in 1940. When the scripts and direction were good, then Hope’s solo films were superb. That was not always the case.

The Paleface (1948) was co-written by Frank Tashlin (with Edmund Hartmann), who would also go on to write and direct the sequel, Son of Paleface (1952, co-written with Joseph Quillan and Robert L. Welch. Tashlin spent many years making cartoons, hopping in and out of big studios such as Warner Brothers’ Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies unit (Tashlin made Porky Pig and other characters’ shorts), Disney Studios, and other indie animation companies. His approach to directing live action shockingly mimicked his methodology for zany cartoons. Much of Son of Paleface contains the kind of sledgehammer action, albeit accomplished with visual effects, and slapstick that is more at home with a character like Daffy Duck.

Both movies are western comedies and are among Hope’s more profitable pictures. He is often costumed in ten-gallon hats that no self-respecting cowboy would wear. For this reviewer’s money, the first title is the better of the two. It is at least grounded in some degree of reality, whereas the second film is all-out wackiness. Both movies co-star Jane Russell, who adds not only glamour to the proceedings, but also a straight-woman sensibility off of whom Hope plays quite well. It is this reviewer’s opinion that Jane Russell was underrated as a comic actress and singer/dancer.

In The Paleface, Hope is “Painless Potter,” a dentist in the Old West who is mistaken to be a federal agent by smugglers selling guns and explosives to the Indians. Calamity Jane (Russell), an outlaw herself, is hired by the government to identify and help bring down the traitors. She eventually uses Potter as cover, allowing him to marry her, so that they can travel with a wagon train and weed out the bad guys.

Son of Paleface is a sequel in that it features Hope as Potter’s grown son, “Junior” Potter, many years later—it’s still the Old West, but the modern age is just around the corner. Junior drives a jalopy (that’s actually years ahead of the time depicted in the movie). This time, Russell plays a saloon chorus girl named “Mike,” who is the civilian identity of a gold thief called “The Torch.” The Torch leads a gang of outlaws who are pursued by “Roy” (the inimitable Roy Rogers, who co-stars with his horse, Trigger—“the smartest horse in the movies,” as he is billed in the credits). Junior has come to town to find and collect his father’s stash of gold, only to find that his dad owed money to everyone. Mike uses Junior as cover, but Roy soon becomes wise to her and sets out to foil Mike, her band of robbers, and Junior, who is unwittingly caught in the middle.

The Paleface is funny and enjoyable, if embarrassingly sexist and politically incorrect by today’s standards (its treatment of Native Americans makes one want face-palm and shake a head). The director, Norman Z. McLeod, had been making comedies since the silent days, and he had helmed two of the Marx Brothers’ best titles, Monkey Business (1931) and Horse Feathers (1932). Hope has some great bits, and he also delivers the Academy Award-winning Best Song of that year, “Buttons and Bows” (by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans). The movie is decent entertainment, but there’s no question that it’s dumb.