The Wild Country (1970)

          Appraised strictly for technical execution, from cinematography to performances to production values, frontier adventure The Wild Country is impeccable. Wide-open locations convey the beauty and toughness of the story’s Wyoming setting, while sincere work from a cadre of proficient actors puts across the simple story of an earnest family in conflict with nature and an unscrupulous neighbor. Furthermore, smooth direction by Robert Totten allows the story to unfold at a steady but unhurried pace over 100 minutes. Yet originality matters, and that’s where The Wild Country has problems. Every single moment is a cliché or a platitude, if not both, so The Wild Country represents some of the worst inclinations of the folks at Walt Disney Productions. Those seeking a fresh take on the travails of homesteading circa the Wild West era should look elsewhere. That significant disclaimer having been provided, there’s a lot to enjoy here for viewers who accept the picture’s limitations. Steve Forrest and Vera Miles make a handsome pair of pioneers, and it’s a hoot to see real-life brothers Clint and Ron Howard acting together as the homesteaders’ children. (The juvenile performers’ father, Rance Howard, appears in a tiny supporting role.) The Wild Country also benefits from beautiful images of animals and wilderness.

          The story begins with the Tanner family arriving in rural Wyoming after a long journey from Philadelphia. At first, Jim (Forrest), Kate (Miles), teenaged Virgil (Ron Howard), and young Andrew (Clint Howard) seem ill-prepared for their new life on a small farm, but they summon enthusiasm and grit while whipping the spread into shape. Enter one-dimensional villain Ab Cross (Morgan Woodward), who owns a cattle outfit in the mountains overlooking the Tanner place. He’s built an illegal dam cutting the flow of water to the Tanners’ property, so Jim tries every means available to remedy the situation, even if that involves  bare-knuckle brawling with mean old Ab. Everything about The Wild Country is predictable, but the picture gains a certain toughness as it proceeds toward an intense climax during which circumstances force Virgil to become a man. That said, The Wild Country is hopelessly retro, an expression of 1950s values that must have seemed pathetically unhip when the film was released in 1970. In that regard, it’s quintessential live-action Disney.

The Wild Country: FUNKY

Salty (1973)

          A low-budget attempt at simulating the Disney formula for heartwarming stories about kids bonding with animals, Salty costars a personable sea lion and Ron Howard’s little brother, Clint Howard, an unusual-looking child best known for playing an alien in a 1960s Star Trek episode and then portraying an assortment of ghouls and weirdos in 1980s exploitation flicks. He’s a teenager here, and during several scenes he performs the “ugly cry” (to borrow a phrase from Oprah Winfrey), meaning that his face contorts in unflattering ways whenever he tries to convey deep emotion. All due respect, this has the effect of making Howard seem more peculiar than sympathetic, which in turn makes his casting seem like a poor choice, particularly since the nature of his acting is not such that it compensates. Moreover, the story is about as contrived and simple as it gets. After their parents are killed, twentysomething Taylor Reed (Mark Slade) and his little brother, Tim (Howard), hit the road for rural Florida, where Taylor has arranged a job at a marine-life attraction. The siblings hitch a ride with Clancy (Julius Harris), an animal trader traveling by school bus to the same park, where he intends to sell several animals. One of the animals is Salty, a sea lion, who bonds with Tim during their shared road trip.

          Upon reaching the marine-life attraction, which is operated by Mrs. Penninger (Nina Foch), the siblings and Clancy—who has become something like a surrogate uncle for the boys—discover that the attraction has fallen on hard times. The inevitable ensues. As the boys help resuscitate the attraction, Tim and Salty have adventures, leading toward manipulative sequences during which Salty is badly injured and, later, erroneously blamed for starting a fire. None of this is interesting or surprising, and every aspect of the production looks cheap. Yet because the filmmakers include myriad shots of the sea lion flopping around on dry land or splashing through ocean waves, Salty delivers the bare minimum of what one might expect from such a project. FYI, the picture was co-written, coproduced, and directed by Ricou Browning, the swimmer who played the titular monster in the underwater scenes of The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1955). Additionally, Salty continued as a TV show for 20 episodes from 1974 to 1975; Harris and Slade reprised their roles, though Howard wasn’t involved.

Salty: FUNKY

Rock ’n’ Roll High School (1979)

          Goofy and irreverent, Rock ’n’ Roll High School playfully updates the youth-run-wild ethos of ’50s teen movies. Built around a girl’s obsession with punk-rock slobs the Ramones—who appear in the film as themselves, mostly during performance scenes—the picture conveys an exaggerated vision of that thrilling moment in life when nothing matters more than music, rebellion, and romance. Better still, the movie is funny as hell, though not in a laugh-out-loud sort of way; rather, the flick’s relentless assault of stupid jokes (with a few genuinely clever gags thrown in for good measure) creates a frenetic, party-like atmosphere that’s almost impossible to resist.

          The heroine of the tale is a teenager named Riff—or, as she calls herself, “Riff Randell, rock ’n’ roller.” As played by the endearing P.J. Soles, Riff is a wild child who’s never met a rule she didn’t want to break. Therefore, when Riff starts getting hassled by Miss Evelyn Togar (Mary Woronov), the psychotic new principal of Riff’s school, a showdown is inevitable. The feather-light plot involves Riff’s quest to get tickets for an upcoming Ramones concert so she can show the band some songs she’s written for them; meanwhile, Togar uses every resource at her disposal to keep Riff from realizing her dream.

          Director Allan Arkush—abetted by his fellow maniacs in Roger Corman’s junk-movie chop-shop—flits around like a honeybee between various subplots, each more outlandish than the last. For instance, Clint Howard plays Eaglebauer, a grown-up hustler running an elaborate business out of a men’s room—for the right fee, he’’ll supply students with advice, dates, drugs, whatever. There’s also a sweet love story involving two nerds. Arkush and co. cram the movie with sight gags that bridge the old-school schtick of Mel Brooks and the insanity of later films like Airplane! (1980). Examples include the tomahawk-wielding Indian lurking near a line of ticket buyers—he’s a scalper, get it?—and the whimsical dream sequence of the Ramones performing in and around Riff’s bedroom, featuring a shot of bass player Dee Dee Ramone rocking out in Riff’s shower while the water’s running.

           All of this is delivered with stick-it-to-the-man insouciance, so even if Rock ’n’ Roll High School is dumb and shallow, there’s an edifying central theme related to the importance of treating kids with respect. Plus, how can anyone dislike a movie containing the line, “Do your parents know you’re Ramones?” Produced on a miniscule budget, Rock ’n’ Roll High School has deservedly gained cult-favorite status over the years, and the makers of the original film should not be held responsible for the existence of the 1991 sequel Rock ’n’ Roll High School Forever, which stars (shudder) Corey Feldman.

Rock ’n’ Roll High School: GROOVY