My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys

And they still are, it seems.

Watoosa and I watched 3:10 to Yuma this week, and it reconfirmed my high opinion of it. Watoosa proclaimed it her favorite western. I wouldn't put it above Unforgiven, which is in my favorite films in any genre. But 3:10 to Yuma is certainly one of the best of its kind, and seeing it in the theater last summer was one of the most enjoyable movie-going experiences I've had in quite a while.

There's nothing fancy about this film--it's just a straightforward story about a man (Christian Bale) determined to get an outlaw (Russell Crowe) to a train that will take him to his trial and, presumably, to justice. There's enough character development that you enjoy watching these people interact and make the choices that move the plot along, and you care about what happens to them. But this is no hoity-toity character film posing as a Western. The action sequences are gripping, and there's plenty of them.

Crowe plays his character with plenty of charm, but also with enough cold-blooded ruthlessness that you never quite forget he's a villain. Bale gives his usual full-tilt performance. But Ben Foster steals the show as Crowe's right hand man. He has such an intensity that far outstrips his rather small frame. There are scenes of him waiting on horseback, positioned far off in the distance, watching and waiting for a chance to strike out at the men who have captured his boss. It's chilling.

In the bonus features, the filmmaker portrays Westerns as the American counterpart to the Greek and Roman myths. I think there's something to that, but the fact that so few Westerns make it to production these days (compared to the early and middle part of the last century) suggests that the importance of the Western to the American identity is waning. It looks to me like it will be supplanted in this century by the super-hero film.

But 3:10 to Yuma was such a treat, I hope it will remind Hollywood that there are still stories worth telling that involve horses and six-shooters and a decided lack of spandex.