I could put a pun about a train here, but that might derail the serious nature of this write-up

Rating: 8/10 (17 July 2009)

It's really a shame that the Western genre is considered a dead horse in Hollywood, because the vast majority of contemporary films made in this vein have been vastly successful in artistry, if not in box office gross.
In the 90's Unforgiven and Tombstone re-defined the notion of the modern Western, with one of those films netting a Best Picture Oscar and the other supplying countless quote material for movie geeks everywhere. 3:10 To Yuma is certainly the best Western of this decade, and though it can't boast either of those specifications, it can take pride in presenting two of the best actors in the game on the screen together.
Russell Crowe and Christian Bale are at the height of their powers in this film, and their rugged, man's man disciplines translate perfectly to the Western motif. Seeing these men believable in their roles is no surprise, as both have a track record spotted with far more exceptional films than duds. What is impressive is watching how well these two first-time co-stars play off of each other. Both men have reputations for being difficult to work with, but seeing them here, we can't help but imagine that their experience sparring with each other was worthwhile for both of them.
A great Western doesn't need to add anything new to the formula, and in fact, simple plots are often the most effective to insert into these surface-simple worlds. What's fascinating is watching how many emotional and character-driven nuances can be wrung from these basic scenarios. Our culture mythologizes gunslingers, and one senses that the moral structure of the basic outlaw is disregarded in favor of the romanticism of a solitary life on the trail. This is explored heavily in 3:10 To Yuma, both directly and implicitly, as we can't help but like Crowe's murderous scoundrel, even once we've heard about his most heinous deeds. If Westerns have taught us anything, it's that even lawmen took great liberties with the values they swore to uphold in the burgeoning West, so if an outlaw is guilty of nothing more than the execution of fellow scoundrels, reward-hunting posses, and corrupt upholders of justice, are they really such bad people? Crowe is here (he even tells us so), but the character parallels painted between he and Bale's honest but destitute rancher create a fascinating interplay. As the men learn throughout the film, they really aren't that different from one another, and they both value honor (even honor among thieves) as a paramount virtue. Certainly, Bale has no qualms about shooting down the men who stand in his way along the peril-fraught trail leading to the titular locomotive. When a bribe is offered to Bale late in the film, he isn't concerned with the moral deterioration that would accompany his acceptance; he just wonders aloud how he could possibly take the money without others questioning where he got it.
So here, there are no heroes or villains. And this sets a perfect stage for a dramatic and character-driven study of the duality of man. To see two actors so perfect for these roles squaring off definitely sweetens the deal, and if we're being fair, that is really the main reason why this film unfolds as powerfully as it does. (It's interesting that Tom Cruise was originally pegged for Crowe's role... This film could have really sucked).
Don't get me wrong, there are gunfights aplenty. After all, let's not forget that another defining principle of a great Western is loads of six-gun shootouts. Fans of that aspect of the genre certainly won't be disappointed here, but this film definitely offers much more to the thinking viewer as well. To short-change such a masterfully acted piece as a pure action vehicle is grossly dismissive. And here, our leads are surrounded by such a strong ensemble, it's a good bet that the film wouldn't rate much lower if the body count were diminished (consider that Unforgiven features almost no gunplay).
So, I return to my original point: Why is the Western genre considered such a gamble when nearly every contemporary Western made with any degree of seriousness has knocked one out of the park? 3:10 To Yuma, paired with the understated and underrated Appaloosa, shows that there is still plenty of life in the genre when the right people are donning the Stetsons.
Certainly, films like 3:10 To Yuma don't make a huge dent in theater grosses, but I would much rather watch Christian Bale and Russell Crowe trade monologues than endure two-and-a-half hours of plot-less CGI robot flashiness peppered with awful Shia LeBouf one-liners. However, the audience for quality films will always pale in comparison to the masses who go to the movies for escapism without substance and spend their entire journey texting each other. So, apparently supply and demand is how the West was lost.
I think I've answered my own question. Strongly-made character-driven films aren't a priority because they don't make as much money, and film-makers would rather guarantee big bucks by attaching their name to soulless exercises in redundancy than take chances on films that might actually entertain people on an intellectual level. Some people will do unspeakable things for money. Actually, that's pretty much the underlying theme in 3:10 To Yuma. A bit ironic, isn't it?