3:10 to yuma

There are times when I crave the simplicity of the Western genre.

I crave its ramshackle towns, its bar doors swinging, its gun-slinging lone cowboy kicking up the Arizona dust-sun rubbed face squinting into the far off yonder of say, classic Hollywood. Is it too much to ask for a John Wayne of my generation? Heck I'd even settle for a Jimmy Stewart.

As a fan of the genre, I went into 3:10 to Yuma hand-to-gun wary, but eager to slip back into the beat-up boots of the old Western experience. And I can gladly say I didn't have to work hard to enjoy James Mangold's (Walk the Line) remake of the 1957 classic. With Russell Crowe taking the reins from Glenn Ford as outlaw Ben Wade, and Christian Bale proving his leading man status as struggling rancher Dan Evans, Yuma was off to sure footing by the opening credits.

Mangold gets the semantics precise-the scenery, the racial iconography, the soft-spoken slow, slurring speech-it's all there, albeit amped up a few dozen notches on the action/violence meter. The film mirrors the original plot with Evans signing on to escort Wade to the 3:10 train to the Yuma penitentiary, all to earn the $200 that might save his meager ranch from seizure. Bale is charismatic as the tortured Evans, a would-be hero whose gimp leg and negligent social status force him to decide between pragmatism and that elusive thing called honor.

Crowe performs with a rugged slouch and a twinkling charm. Champion of the period piece, the Aussie import transforms effortlessly into a local criminal with a conscience.

Crowe and Bale work well as a duo, striking up an appealing male chemistry last enjoyed by Newman and Redford as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. So why then, did I feel uneasy at times, itching with the feeling that something was a bit, well, off?

I could blame the dramatic zoom-in reaction shots that screamed "emote!" or the folksy music spurred into merriment at every cocked barrel and distant gallop. But I blame myself more than the picture.

I blame myself for being caught up in the subtle, atypical, increasingly new-age eccentricity of recent film, be it the quirky indie or sci-fi blockbuster. Sure, Yuma exaggerated its Western qualities, often to the point of a giggle or two, but how refreshing it was to once again team up with the reluctant hero and the charming enemy, raiding wagons and dodging bullets! How refreshing it was to pause, at least for a moment, and enjoy that wonderfully irrational male landscape of the Old West.