Picture, if you will, a regulation old-time Western saloon, teeming with colorful frontier types and about to be knocked into kindling by a galoot with a fearsome toothache. At this moment, through the swinging doors appears a pilgrim from the East--Boston, to be precise--outfitted with top hat, frock coat, a courtly manner, and a medical bag filled with the miracles of modern (i.e., 1849) pharmacology. He will cure the ruffian's toothache. He is a druggist. He is also John Wayne. In Old California qualifies as one of Duke's quirkier assignments during his indentured servitude at Republic Pictures, and he makes a game stab at the sort of arch light-comedy heroism more typically left to his Reap the Wild Wind costar Ray Milland. Unfortunately, he has to do so without discernible assistance from director William McGann. Moreover, the script, which is incoherent even by Republic standards, absentmindedly omits any prospect for menace till half the running time has elapsed. Saloon songstress Binnie Barnes may or may not be kept by her employer, the loutish empire builder Albert Dekker, who resents her attraction to Wayne almost as much as he wants to hog California for himself. Fortunately, the gold rush comes along to provide opportunity for civic hysteria, an outbreak of fever, several varieties of unlikely heroism, and a climactic shootout of surpassing silliness. Edgar Kennedy and Patsy Kelly handle the comic relief... but where does it begin? --Richard T. Jameson
