Dir. James Mangold, US, 2007, 117 mins
Genre:
Western / Drama / Thriller
Cast: Russell Crowe, Christian Bale, Peter Fonda, Logan Lerman
Review by Richard Mellor
Just when you thought westerns had finally ridden off into the sunset, here’s an unlikely comeback for film’s oldest old-timer. Following on from the genre’s last genuine classics, Unforgiven and (arguably) Open Range, and preceeding Brad Pitt’s much-hyped The Assassination of Jesse James, this star-studded effort from Walk the Line director James Mangold tells a tale that focuses more on morals and mood than pistols and panache. There’s not a fast-draw contest in sight.
For this follow-up to his Oscar-winning paean to Johnny Cash, Mangold has taken an unexpected step: remaking Delmer Daves’ acclaimed, but hardly renowned or relevant, 1957 desert drama. Mangold’s cover version extends the original’s much simpler extra plot (good), and does away with its delicate titular track (criminal).
Mangold also retains the original’s simple, nickname-free characters. Russell Crowe’s Ben Wade is a sort of Wild West-highwayman, leading a vicious, merciless gang of reprobates specialising in armed robbery along the Southern Railroad. Almost everyone in the attacked vehicles ends up in a sandy grave. Wade is just as happy slaying gang members for the most trivial of mistakes.
During one such stick-up, the villainous Wade encounters farmer Dan Evans (Bale), a Civil War veteran with a prosthetic leg, a drought-plagued farm and a struggling family wherein he has diminishing status. In particular, eldest son Will (Lerman) is exasperated by his father’s perceived lack of bottle.
Wade’s decision to spare Evans - he opts only to borrow three horses – is the first sign that this grinning murderer does a fine line in mercy. Soon enough enough evidence mounts up as to suggest he’s a complete pussycat. He meekly accepts arrest after romancing a local barmaid; he draws pencil sketches of birds, pinning them to trees; he even quotes lines from Proverbs at unlikely moments.
The two leading men soon meet again: after his capture, the authorities are faced with tough task of transporting Wade across the plains and hills to meet a train to Yuma prison – the 3.10 of the title. The hurdles are plenty – renegade apache mountain-dwellers, the rest of the gang’s hot pursuit and Wade’s own wiliness – and few are keen to make the journey. Desperate for cash, and to prove himself to his loved ones, Evans volunteers for this most perilous of escort jobs.
Mangold proceeds to tell two tales in tandem – a combination of ethics and effects that is marvellously consuming. First and foremost he gradually cranks up the tension as Wade and his quickly dwindling group of transporters edge slowly towards the appointed train. Wade’s gang gains; the villain’s quiet confidence in his escape never wavers; and the previously uninspiring Evans grows ever more heroic and impressive in the face of certain tragedy.
As the hour of deliverance nears, so the two men’s battle of wills teeters towards mutual respect. Stung by the harsh cards life has dealt him, the limping and limpid Evans reluctantly respects Wade’s unflinching, almost logical justification for his illegal deeds, and regular episodes of unexpected kindness. For his part, Wade begins to admire the farmer’s taciturn stoicism, and refusal to give up.
The balance of brawn and brain has been a recurring motif in Crowe’s successful career, and the slippery depiction of Wade ranks among his best efforts yet. He veers from sparkle-eyed charmer to lethal killer in a flash - one minute he is gentle and calm; and the next he has thrown Peter Fonda’s callous bounty hunter off a cliff. Throughout his eyes twinkle and gleam; the genius of the performance is that, much like Evans, we agonises over whether to trust Wade or not.
Crowe’s menace is neatly countered by Bale’s much more straightforward farmer – a humble man of God, family and just reward. As ever, Bale is quietly magnificent; he communicates oceans of doubt, fear and recrimination through a chiselled face that scarcely changes expression. It would have been much easier to present Evans as simply pious and principled, but Bale succeeds in conjuring a far more identifiable incarnation.
There is the odd creak – the final alignment of the men’s morals seems still slightly contrived, and something of a stretch, for all the build-up. Neither does the odd bird sketch convince that Wade is a good person. However, these are small problems within a hugely arresting and beautifully-shot picture, with potentially massive importance. Beyond making a fistful of dollars, Mangold’s film may do something infinitely more priceless – resuscitate a vintage, near-forgotten genre.
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