Hey everyone. Capone in Chicago here, just happy to be writing and posting again.

We just moved into a new temporary apartment yesterday, where my wife and I will be living for at least six months. It's stressful; it's exhausting; but it's good to have a new home base and a place to work and write. I've already starting lining up a few tasty interviews for the coming weeks, and now I've got a review for you that the writers for this site just can't seem to get enough of. There's a reason for that, folks. The movie drop-kicks unspeakable amounts of ass.

There are going to be a lot of critics picking apart director James Mangold's (COPLAND, WALK THE LINE) transcendent remake of 3:10 TO YUMA in an effort to tell you what it's REALLY about. I have my own theories on this as well, which we'll get to in a minute. But the mere fact that so many wizened men and women (and a few goofballs as well) are spending so much bandwidth, ink and broadcast time analyzing this movie should tell you something: this is a film worth diving into and really investing your time and energy deconstructing. Or you can simply sit back and let the blood, dust, sweat and bullets wash over you, helping you remember what truly loving a Western is all about.

Based on a short story by Elmore Leonard, 3:10 TO YUMA would not be as solid an effort without this particular cast (this exact cast, actually). And while many people will focus on the fine work put forth by Russell Crowe as the captured outlaw Ben Wade, I was able to anticipate exactly how Crowe would play this role. In the context of this story, Wade is a legend thanks to cheap pulp novels of the time read by young boys all over the country. He's about the swagger and the gallows humor, and as played by Crowe, Wade issues the same smile for every clever turn of phrase as he does for every man he kills. He's always the smartest man in the room, as well as the most charming and dangerous. When I say I was able to predict how Crowe would play Wade, I didn't mean that as a criticism. He absolutely makes this character one of his most memorable. But when compared to how Christian Bale plays the other lead in the film, Dan Evans, Bale comes across as more a man of mystery than Crowe could ever pull off.

I said I'd give you my two cents on what 3:10 TO YUMA is really about. It's about the lengths a father will go to gain (or regain) the respect of his son. The father in this scenario is Evans, a soldier in the Civil War who lost part of his foot, a failure as a farmer, and a sad excuse for a role model in the eyes of his oldest boy Will (Logan Lerman). Will is one of those young men I mentioned who worships the adventures and courage of a man like Ben Wade. And when Will and Wade first meet, Will is star-struck into silence, and Wade knows exactly why and uses that to get under Dan's skin.
The plot of this film only matters slightly. Wade is caught shortly after he and his gang have pulled off a major armored stagecoach robbery (complete with many dead would-be heroes). A posse of lawmen (including Peter Fonda, Dallas Roberts and Alan Tudyk in a nice turn as a doctor) is charged with escorting Wade to a railroad station and putting him on the titular train to the Yuma Prison. Wade's gang (including the fierce Charlie Prince, played by ALPHA DOG's Ben Foster, who is just plain nasty and scary here) is out to stop this from happening. Dan Evans volunteers to act as the law's best shooter because he needs the cash to save his dying farm. Against his wife's (Gretchen Mol) wishes, he makes the dangerous trip in the hopes of appearing like something resembling a hero to Will and the rest of his family after so many years of feeling like less than a man. The set up is deceptively simple.

As exciting and blood soaked as the film's various gun fights are, 3:10 TO YUMA's real strengths lie in what happens when the bullets aren't flying. Crowe watches how the men guarding him move and think; he's gauges their personalities in two seconds and knows exactly what to say and when to say it to get a rise out of them and make them slip up somehow. Dan doesn't have any particular hatred of this outlaw, but he does find himself in disbelief when son Will is discovered following his gang, not to be with him but to observe and admire Wade. The dynamic between these three characters lies at the heart of this film, and it makes the ending so incredibly satisfying and appropriate. Bale plays Dan Evans as a solemn, thoughtful man of few words, but there is a person of no small intelligence racing around behind his eyes. Bale is on a near-perfect acting roll since 2000's American Psycho, which was followed by SHAFT, EQUILIBRIUM, THE MACHINIST, BATMAN BEGINS, HARSH TIMES, THE PRESTIGE, THE NEW WORLD, and RESCUE DAWN earlier this year. The guy is one of the greatest actors working right now, and I'm always curious about his approach to each new role. He plays Dan Evans as the last man on earth you'd consider a hero, and that makes his actions and motives all the more impressive.

On a purely visceral level, 3:10 TO YUMA is equally awesome. The gun battles are quick, loud, bloody and executed with no frills. This is what I've always liked about James Mangold as a director; his style (more like anti-style) is to let the story tell itself and not try and overwhelm an audience with too many wild camera tricks and artsy flare. He makes it seem like he's just filming what's happening rather than making his movies feel stagy or rehearsed. Cap off the quality filmmaking with a memorable score by Marco Beltrami, and you've got yourself a great way to kiss a summer largely without substance goodbye. Ignore the talk about "The Return of the Western," and consider 3:10 TO YUMA a return to films that make you think about violence in a way most escapist action films don't. This is a film of substance that still manages to be about as entertaining as anything I've seen this year. It's also a great chance to see these two acting giants play against each other in unexpected ways and create an uneasy partnership that is greater than the sum of its parts.

Capone