The Man from Monterey – That Old-School Cowboy Flavour with a Side of Swedish Nostalgia

Alright, so “The Man from Monterey” – you know, that crusty John Wayne western from way back in 1933. Every time I see that crazy black-and-white opening, my brain just goes: “Jeez, är vi på matiné hemma i Danderyd igen, eller?” And yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel throughout the whole film.

John Wayne Before He Was THE John Wayne

What’s wild is seeing Wayne before he became this mega-icon with that walk and attitude everybody copies on Halloween. Here he’s young, and not as cocky, kind of rough around the edges. Directed by Mack V. Wright (anyone else pause and try to remember what else he’s done? Or is that just me?). I had to google. Guy did tons of serials, which explains the “hurry up, film’s almost over!” pace here.

Then you’ve got Ruth Hall who… I dunno, she looks suspiciously modern in some close-ups. Maybe it’s just that I watched it half-awake after a Friday night at, you know, that weird pizza place in Uppsala that also does karaoke.

Sun, Cattle, Paper Thin Plot

Let’s be real. Nothing too complicated here. You’ve got government land grants, sneaky villains, Wayne being all “let’s save the rancheros,” all with this Apache subplot that now feels a bit, hmm, 1930s Hollywood… if you catch my drift.

I still remember sneaking into Farsta’s old cinema when I was 13, saw a re-run of this on a wobbly screen with my big sister. She fell asleep. I tried to mimic Wayne’s walk after, but slipped on ice and landed on my arse. So much for being cool.

Look, I’m not saying this is any sort of masterpiece. But for 62 prickly minutes, you land in dust, spurs, and a time when heroes were simple, baddies wore moustaches, and the sun always shone over fake Californian hills. Not bad with the popcorn. Maybe don’t expect too much. And for god’s sake, don’t try walking like Wayne on Swedish ice.

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