3:10 to Yuma

3:10 to Yuma is a well-produced western that should have been better.

Christian Bale plays a rancher who volunteers to escort a notorious outlaw, played by Russell Crowe to a prison train.

Bale is outstanding as a poor, broken man who sees a chance to prove something, not only to his family, but to himself as well. He’s utterly and completely believable in his role.

Russell Crowe, however, is not. For a hardened killer who lives and dies by his gun, Crowe seems a little too soft. While there’s no single thing that gives this impression, it’s the culmination of many little things, such as looking down for his holster after firing his gun while on his horse, that don’t ring true. Crowe doesn’t come across as a cold-blooded murderer, but rather as a melancholy father figure for a gang of killers.

But it’s not all Crowe’s fault. The script by Halsted Welles and Michael Brandt doesn’t give his character much edge. Instead, it’s Ben Foster, as Crowe’s right hand psycho, who does all the dirty work. Crowe never gives the audience any real reason to dislike him, which robs the film of much of its impact.

3:10 to Yuma almost rights itself at the end, setting up an ending that would have made Howard Hawks proud. Then comes the dreaded deus ex machina, and what was filled with so much promise becomes utterly predictable.