I grew up in the golden age of Western movies. I saw dozens of Westerns as a child and watched hundreds of Western episodes on television: Gunsmoke, Bonanza, High Chapparal, Have Gun Will Travel, The Roy Rogers Show, Rawhide—I saw them all.
Why did I love this genre? The Western desert appealed to me--the beauty of a long vista, with its ever-present sense of danger and adventure. Mostly, however, I loved to see stories of good guys on horseback as they struggled against insensate evil. I knew the good guys would eventually win, and in the movies, they almost always did.
John Ford's Westerns were my favorites. Without realizing it, I was a movie critic in elementary school. I realized that The Searchers, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence were the genuine article and far superior to the cheap imitations.
Beginning in the 1960s, the Western movie genre fell into decline. I hoped Missouri Brakes, starring Marlin Brando, and The Shootist, starring John Wayne, would revive it, but those movies were disappointments.
Eventually, I realized that Western movies set in modern times are just as thrilling as films about the Old West. Lonely Are the Brave, Hud, and No Country for Old Men were authentic contributions to my beloved genre. Hell or High Water, starring Jeff Bridges, Ben Foster, and Chris Pine, is equal to Shane, even though the victory over evil was nuanced.
Last night, I watched Bone Tomahawk on Netflix, and I was gratified to see a Western movie that is equal to the films I saw as a kid. The plot is simple: four men of uneven temperament ride out to rescue a kidnapped damsel in distress. By the movie's end, the good guys complete their mission, but two of the four saviors are dead.
Kurt Russell plays the laconic, relentless, and totally dedicated lawman. Mathew Fox plays Brooder, the Western dandy who hates Indians. Patrick Wilson is the faithful husband who endures almost unbelievable pain and hardship to be reunited with his wife, played by Lili Simmons.
Richard Jenkins is cast in the scene-stealing role of Chicory, the self-proclaimed "backup deputy" who is simple-minded but loyal and brave. If there is a hall of fame for Western movie sidekicks, Jenkins deserves a place next to Gabby Hayes, Slim Pickens, and Andy Devine.
I always judge a Western movie's portrayal of Native Americans. Until I saw Bone Tomahawk, I gave Wes Studi top billing for his role as the malignant Magua in The Last of the Mohicans. Now, there was an Indian with a chip on his shoulders.
Wes Studi, however, is a Presbyterian compared to the aborigines in Bone Tomahawk, who are bone-chillingly scary. I won't say more because I want movie movers to feel the horror I experienced when the bad-ass Native Americans showed up in Bone Tomahawk.
Bone Tomahawk is an almost perfect Western--the old-fashioned struggle of good against evil set against the backdrop of the stark and pitiless landscape of the American West. My faith in Westerns has been renewed,
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| Going after the Bad Guys |
