You really have to hand it to the headliners of yesteryear's matinee westerns. While it's hard for fans of the genre to tell these films apart from each other sometimes, these hombres had to star in them. With such movies made in quick succession, it couldn't have been an easy feat to juggle multiple storylines at the same time, having to show up on set and recall not only what bad guys you were gunning for that day but who you were even playing. A tip of the ten-gallon is in order for those actors who dutifully hopped in the saddle dozens upon dozens of times, not the least of which was the highly prolific Johnny Mack Brown. Having previously dedicated a whole volume of their Monogram Cowboy Collection solely to Brown's work, the Warner Archive gang is at it once more, packing this fifth set with nine adventures from a guy whose bronco-busting output lasted into the triple digits.

BORDER BANDITS (1946). Brown picks up the trail of killers lurking about a hacienda in search of hidden jewels. Watching dozens upon dozens of pictures like Border Bandits that share the same boring set-up and plot elements gets you to thinking about how the tiniest alterations could have shaken things up. It's poor form to criticize a film for what it isn't rather than for what it is, but when something passes over the bare minimum of what it can do to create tension, its rubber-stamping ways plead to be called out. Imagine how livelier this bare-bones rodeo might have turned out, had it kept the big maguffin everyone's after a secret, made those responsible for the death that kicks off the story a mystery, or raised the personal stakes Brown's character has in solving the crime. Watchable though it may be, Border Bandits is too plain and tedious, even by the standards of low-budget matinee westerns.

CANYON AMBUSH (1952). A government agent (Brown) goes undercover to help a sheriff (Lee Roberts) take down a gang and its masked ringleader. Canyon Ambush feels like a "greatest hits" compilation for a type of picture that's already infamous for recycling stock scenarios. The masked killer, the shady town council, and even some of the traps laid out for Johnny Mack bring a lot of his previous vehicles to mind, but strangely, not all of these tropes turn out to be that bothersome here. Because they come presented with pluck and actual tension (i.e. it's not obvious who the disguised desperado is from the start), those corny cliches and situations become endearing, things you look forward to seeing play out instead of dread watching for the zillionth time. Canyon Ambush isn't exactly bursting at the seams with inventiveness, but that it's not as hopelessly resigned to parroting what countless other westerns of the time did charges it with enough exciting edge to help it come out on top.

FRONTIER FEUD (1945). Brown encounters bad blood when he rides into a town torn apart by two warring ranch outfits. Frontier Feud makes no bones about how much of a powder keg Johnny Mack has wandered into this time, thrusting hostility our hero's way from the very first frame. Supposedly in search of his brother's killer (though we can guess his true motives pretty quickly), Brown gets roped into uncovering what caused the eponymous clash to save his own skin as much as for justice's sake. Compared to the suspenseful build-up they're given, the results Brown finds are disappointingly cut and dry, but the story's initial hook is strong enough to secure your interest for at least an act or two. While its finale has a tough go at matching its bang-up beginning scenes, Frontier Feud has plenty going on in its favor to make it well worth a spin on a rainy afternoon.

GHOST GUNS (1944). A pair of lawmen (Brown and Raymond Hatton) come to the rescue when cattle rustlers turn to picking off innocent settlers. What Ghost Guns lacks in originality, it tries like the devil to make up for in brute force. This contains enough shootouts, runaway stagecoaches, and cold-blooded killings for two pictures, but unfortunately, all of the added action doesn't gain much headway in rendering the plot any less routine. By this point, it's become a chore to see villain like this film's rotten bunch painted in such broad strokes, so cavalier with sharing their evil schemes out in the open just to make sure we know they're the bad guys -- as if the mass murders weren't enough. Though I can't fault its desire to supply more thrills than fans are apt to receive from flicks of this stature, Ghost Guns isn't serviced very much by the extra bang in the long run.

GUN SMOKE (1945). Two of Uncle Sam's finest (Brown and Raymond Hatton) try to thwart a gang hunting down old Indian riches. While there's no Marshal Dillon to be seen in this Gun Smoke, Brown and Hatton do a fine job of keeping the peace on their own. But while the flick's treasure hunt angle gets the story rolling nicely at first, it never conjures very much mystique, with the answer to the mystery of its location basically falling into the lap of one supporting character. Brown and Hatton make, as always, an appealing pair and try to liven up the search for the loot with their rapport, but this is one excursion that doesn't deviate far from its simple, A-to-B route. As perfectly enjoyable as Gun Smoke is overall, its potential to be a much more immersive experience unfortunately went by untapped.

LAW MEN (1944). Soon after moseying into town, a pair of marshals (Brown and Raymond Hatton) get caught up in a pursuit for ruthless bank robbers. Law Men just barely gets its bearings before it's off to the races, diving right into what turns out to be one of Johnny Mack's most entertaining pictures yet. It's not even clear if he and Hatton's Sandy Hopkins are intentionally looking for the gang before they're hot on the trail, with the former embedding himself within the bandits and the latter stuck impersonating a bootmaker to amusing effect. While the pacing might seem a touch break-neck at first, the flick quickly becomes very exciting, bolstered by a surplus of nail-biting situations in which the villains know something the heroes don't (and vice versa). Its title is as generic as the Rio Grande is mighty, but when it comes to action and excitement, Law Men outclasses a lot of its contemporaries.

PARTNERS OF THE TRAIL (1944). Brown's crusading cowpoke gets summoned to a small town where forces conspire to fleece local ranchers out of potential fortune. In spite of Brown's folksy charm and the curmudgeonly appeal of Raymond Hatton's Sandy Hopkins, Partners of the Trail ranks among the least memorable outings in the Johnny Mack canon. Whether it was due to my own dicey attention span or some lax screenwriting, it was hard to discern what the villains' big scheme was for the longest time; if you see the same bad guys plotting no good in film after film, all the details tend to go in one ear and out the other. Although the movie has all the earmarks Brown fans have come to appreciate (last-minute rescues, good-natured ribbing at Sandy's age, etc.), there's nary a one that leaves a distinct impression. Like the proverbial tumbleweed, Partners of the Trail kicks up a little dust before swiftly drifting off, out of sight and memory.

RAIDERS OF THE SOUTH (1947). As the nation recovers from the Civil War, a Secret Service man (Brown) is assigned to quash a growing Confederate resistance. Not since 1945's Flame of the West cast him as a pacifist has Brown faced a departure from his standard roles such as the one Raiders of the South presents him. Sure, he's playing another undercover lawman, but this time, his southern-bred character becomes embroiled in a heap of conflict, as he's asked to persuade his own people to accept the wave of Reconstruction about to crash down on them. Alas, the story doesn't trade on this dynamic very often -- settling for a more traditional plot wherein Johnny protects his new pals from a different villain playing both sides against the middle -- but the novelty is fun while it lasts. Although hesitant to go whole hog with its premise,  Raiders of the South still shakes up the Brown formula with a few interesting diversions.

THE TEXAS KID (1943). A marshal (Brown) meets up with an old acquaintance (Marshall Reed), a young outlaw whose former gang wants him dead. While the film ultimately turns out to be Johnny Mack's show, The Texas Kid is notable for featuring the first credited role of Reed, with whom western fans would grow familiar in the coming years. Despite being typecast as the heavy in many such pictures (some can even be found in this very set), Reed's character here is more complicated, a supposedly reforming gunslinger Brown isn't entirely willing to trust. His journey gives the movie a surprising degree of heart, as well as guiding the plot towards an atypically somber end. One ends up wishing that The Texas Kid had spared even more focus for the titular desperado than it does, but its efforts yield a compelling endeavor all the same.

(Monogram Cowboy Collection: Volume 5 is available from the Warner Archive Collection. Unrated.)