Overlooked Films: The Lone Ranger and the Lost City of Gold (1958)

I’m sorry I said unkind things about last week’s Overlooked Film, The Lone Ranger (1956) (that's HERE). I meant those things, of course, but I still regret having to say them. In case you missed that diatribe, my main complaint was that the film was one western movie cliché piled on top of another, reflecting badly on everyone's favorite Ranger, Clayton Moore.

So I was not looking forward to the sequel, The Lone Ranger and the Lost City of Gold. But I should have been. This one was fun, inventive, original and cliché-free, avoiding all the mistakes of its predecessor.

How? Here’s the secret: This movie is not really a western. It’s an adventure film with a western setting. The story would have played out just as well with Tarzan, Robin Hood or a noble pirate in the hero's seat.

The basic plot is this: A conniving widow is searching for a lost city. Her late husband spent his whole life searching and gathering evidence, but fell just short of finding it. Determined to cash in at last, the widow teams up with a killer and his gang of toughs. A map to the lost city was inscribed on a silver plate, which has since been broken into five medallions. The widow and the killer are hunting and killing the folks who have those medallions.

In this case, the lost city is one of the seven cities of Cibola, and the map/plate was made by Coronado’s men. The guys who now have the medallions are Indians. And the whole evil scheme would no doubt go off without a hitch if not for . . . not Tarzan, not Robin Hood, not Douglas Fairbanks Sr., but . . . The Lone Ranger (and Tonto).

Last time, I whined about Moore’s cheesy portrayal of the old prospector. This time, the prospector is absent, and the Ranger goes undercover as Bret Reagan, a Southern gentleman bounty hunter. Last time, Tonto suffered the ultimate snot-beating. This time, he takes only a couple of punches, and is later creased by a bullet. This film even sidesteps the Who-Was-That-Masked-Man schtick.


A minor quibble: Early in the film we meet the town doctor, who, though dressed in city duds, is clearly an Indian. He looks even more like an Indian than the guys wearing war paint. But he’s been passing for years, and no one in the whole Indian-hating town suspects. Puh-lease.

Other that that, The Lone Ranger and the Lost City of Gold is a fine film. Makes me wish Moore and Silverheels had made another.









More Overlooked Films at Sweet Freedom.

Next Week: The Lone Ranger Rides Some More