Long about ten years ago, Hollywood historians dug into the exploits of the notorious James boys (of St. Joe, not Cambridge) and found enough material for two full-length movies. The mother lode has run out, though, and the golden moments in "I Shot Jesse James" are not worth anywhere near the 85 cents it costs to assay them.

The original versions of Jesse's life and death and his brother's revenge had Henry Fonda, John Carradine, gorgeous technicolor and a fast-moving story. None of these were available this year, apparently, and the present low-budget production is a savorless blending of improbable dialogue, a yawn-provoking plot, and poor acting. One member of the cast didn't even bother to learn his lines. He must have sensed that it wouldn't make much difference.

Perhaps the most incredible scene in the picture is when Frank James, armed with a battered Winchester, confronts the man who shot his brother in the back. The most feared desperado of the Old West glares a vengeful glare at his quavering victim and snarls in deadly tones: "I could shoot you, Bob Ford. But I won't. You see, I happen to know that Cynthia loves not you but Kelley. When she marries you she'll feel sorry for you, but she'll still love Kelley." With, that he backs, catlike, out of the saloon, leaving the assassin to his fate worse than death.

About the only thing to be said for the film, outside of its merciful shortness (75 minutes), is John Ireland, who grapples hopelessly with the role of Bob Ford. Ireland, like Richard Widmark, broke the code of the West by making a hit in his very first picture, "Red River." His punishment, like Widmark's, has been banishment to the salt mines of Grade B for the required term of apprenticeship. It is still a pleasure to watch Ireland slouch casually around a set, but this time his effortlessness is wasted on a miserable part.

The companion feature is a Cisco Kid epic, with Leo Carillo and Duncan Renaldo. Fet's a good wan to meess, ch, Cisco!