SYNOPSIS:
A family is enjoying a meal in the desert when a horde of white badmen masquerading as Indigenous people infiltrate their picnic and rob the family of their valuables. They kill the parents, leaving the two male children, whom share similar birthmarks, stranded with the eldest son wandering off cackling maniacally.
Ten years later, the town of Red Dog is cursed by the presence of a psychotic outlaw known as “The Rawhide Terror” [William Barrymore], so called for the singular strip of rawhide covering his face. The sheriff [Edmund Cobb], at the behest of the local townsfolk, sets about capturing the marauder.
Meanwhile, Betty Blake’s [Francis Morris] brother Tom [William Desmond] is captured by the Rawhide Terror with the sheriff and ranch hand Al [Art Mix] in hot pursuit, with Al engaging in a brawl with the killer. The Rawhide Terror escapes and attempts to capture Betty, but is fatally shot by the sheriff who, upon glancing at the dying killer’s chest, discovers that they both share the same birthmark.
REVIEW:
“The Rawhide Terror” is an incomprehensible mess from start to finish, with story ideas and subplots that go nowhere. The reason is because the film began life as a serial [a multi-episode cliffhanger that would air in theaters each week]. However, writer and producer Victor Adamson’s bankroll quickly ran out and he edited the footage he had shot into a 46 minute “B” feature.
Adamson, whom also directed under the alias of Denver Dixon, was a native of New Zealand and produced some of the strangest and most bizarre westerns ever made. Indeed, staples of the Adamson films – dare I call it the Adamson “style” – consisted of misspelled opening credits, actors whom randomly appear then disappear and even, in the case of “The Rawhide Terror,” subplots that serve no purpose. There is a subplot concerning a young boy who is abused by his stepdad; but the abusive father escapes authorities in the middle of the picture, never to be seen again.
The story of the main “star” of the film is far more fascinating than the film itself. Art Mix, as a person, never truly existed. Instead, “Art Mix” was a name conjured up by Adamson in the silent era to compete with the more successful silent screen cowboy Tom Mix. The name originally belonged to Adamson, who used that moniker when he was actor, until 1924 wherein actor George Kesterson assumed the role. This, of course, angered Tom Mix and the Fox Film Corporation who sought legal action against Adamson. This carried on for years, but to no avail as Kesterson resumed using the name for the remainder of his career, even in films he made outside of his association with Adamson.
The acting in this film is atrocious across the board, with no one performer giving their all to the proceedings. That is, except for the distinguished actor William Barrymore. Hmm? You have never heard of William Barrymore? That is because this was also a moniker designed by Adamson. William Barrymore was never a part of the Barrymore dynasty of performers – instead his real name was Elia Bulakh, a native of Russia whom escaped the oppressive empire and found work in the United States as an actor. Barrymore performs the role of the titular character so over-the-top that you almost wish to root for him over the heroes of the picture. His cackling laugh, the grimaces he makes to the camera and his otherworldly appearance is what sets this apart from just being a run-of-the-mill poverty row “B” western.
Make no mistake, “The Rawhide Terror” is bottom-of-the-barrel filmmaking at its worst. Even given its brief 46-minute runtime, it feels as if an eternity has passed since the opening title first shows up on screen. Featuring half-hearted performances (save for Barrymore), haphazard editing, storylines which go nowhere and a convoluted plot, “The Rawhide Terror” is only recommended for those whom are absolute western diehards or those whom enjoy bizarre films in the Dwain Esper vain. Indeed, films produced by Adamson and his contemporary Robert J. Horner are so criminally inept that they lend themselves a surreal, dreamlike quality to them. You cannot quite believe what you are watching, but somehow you can’t pry yourself away.