Hard to dislike any film with a character named Chloroform. Takes a while to get going and in fact, feels a bit meandering and even pointless for much of its running time, but the viewer needs to have a little patience. It dawdles its way to a surprisingly potent payoff. Jacques Tourneur's strengths as a director were in subtly establishing mood and atmosphere with a clean, crisp visual technique, primarily in spooky thrillers. He employs those skills to good effect here in, of all places, a small town western setting. His America is still in the awkward early stages of forming its cultural and spiritual identity. Lazy days followed by lawless nights. Chapel hymns compete with bar room fights. Tradition and progress keep bumping into each other, trading dirty looks.
If anything, it needs a bit more running time to develop all the relationships. It tends to skimp. And Tourneur was maybe not so gifted working with actors. James Mitchell as the progressive, practical new doctor in town seems somewhat ill-at-ease. Joel McCrea as the take charge parson is understated as always, but never hogs the spotlight and seems to have a great respect for The Story. Acting honors go to the fabulous Juano Hernandez as Uncle Famous, a peaceful black man who refuses to give in to racial intimidation in his own easy-going way.
And that ending packs a wallop. Won't soon forget the truly haunting image of those two blank sheets of paper (thought to be Uncle Famous' Will) being swept along in the wind. It may not be Uncle Famous' after all, but as McCrea states with utter conviction, "It's God's Will."
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