Montana

About 20 minutes into the film, Errol Flynn is being questioned by some cowboy hick at the saloon bar. The director - whether it was Enright or Walsh that day - shoot it in extreme closeup of Flynn looking - in effect - into the saloon mirror behind the bartenders. He's still got smooth skin, perfect teeth and what looks like the world clearest, glittering Amber eyes. By gawd he was beautiful.

And then there was Alexis Smith who the studio dubbed The Dynamite Girl but who should have been called The Penticton Peach, with apologies to Andy Moog. Her blue/green eyes are so striking they actually made me gulp when she first appears. Contrasted with that Hollywood copper hair and teeth so white they appear to be their own light source, well, you have a first-class knockout.

Of course they fall in love. Until he confesses he's into sheep.

The local cowboys are either testing him or shooting at him. And the movie-makers manage to work in a a couple of songs. The action is decent but the rear-projection is laughable. And the character development is non-existent.

As long as the obnoxious S. Z. Sakall isn't chewing up the scenery with that hackney accent (same goes for Charles Irwin as Flynn's Scottish sidekick at the beginning) it's a harmless time-filler. I'd like to think this movie's ''missing" 13 minutes (give or take) were scenes featuring either Sakall or Irwin and wisely got plotzed on the cutting room floor.

All in all a decent way to spend some time watching TV with grampa.