Before there was Avatar, before there was even Dances With Wolves, there was Broken Arrow.

I wasn’t expecting much out of this film. I picked it solely because it had Jimmy Stewart, and he’s been missing from this feature for too long. I knew from the description that it was about the wars with the Apache, who have always been the genre’s favorite villainous redskins. Again, I wasn’t expecting much.

If there was one thing that was pounded into my head in college, it was that no movie ever portrayed Native Americans fairly. They were all John Wayne propaganda pieces that justified our rape and pillage of the land over and over again. It was one of those little facts that justified my disdain for Western movies for years.

But it turns out my American history classes weren’t entirely right, at least in the case of one film. Broken Arrow was the first film to actually portray the Native Americans in a sympathetic and fair light, and while it stumbles in authenticity, it deserves an A for effort. The fact that it comes from one of Hollywood’s stauncher Republicans (Stewart was a proud conservative) is a nice surprise.

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The fun part of Western Wednesdays is discovering little gems like Rio Conchos that were lost in the shuffle of giants like John Wayne.  Lacking any big stars or cult iconography like Django’s coffin, they just sit on Netflix waiting for someone to dig them up.

Rio Conchos is a slow burn of a movie, more of a Western noir than a real shoot ‘em up. Everyone has an agenda, no one can be trusted, and you’re just not sure who is going to screw it all up and make off like a bandit. It also starts off rather typical with the usual trope of “There’s been a raid, a bunch of rifles are missing, and they’re going to wind up in the hands of Apaches!”

Naturally, a disparate bunch of men are assigned the task of tracking down the rifles — a bitter ex-Confederate (Richard Boone), a Buffalo Soldier (Jim Brown), an ambitious Army Captain (Stuart Whitman), and a smooth-talking Mexican mercenary (Tony Franciosa). Of course, they don’t get along. The ex-Confederate makes no secret of his dislike of blue coats or black men, and while they come to a grudging understanding and respect, they never really become friends.

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Is there a film you’ve tried to watch only to have Fate thwart your efforts again and again? Cat Ballou was on that list for me. I had it recorded on my DVR and lost it, and I don’t know how many times I’ve fired it up via Netflix only to be interrupted or decide I needed a movie with a bit more edge to it. But when I took on Western Wednesdays, I resolved I’d conquer Cat Ballou once and for all.

Perhaps all the build-up and fan enthusiasm (It’s been recommended to me so many times) raised my expectations too high, because Cat Ballou didn’t do much for me. It’s such a classic film I feel like the blame lies with me. I have this kind of abusive relationship with older films, you know. If I don’t love it, it’s my fault. I mean, the AFI ranked it as the tenth best western of all time. It has to be me.

I do have to give Cat Ballou credit for its swinging ’60s enthusiasm. Only in the 1960s could you get away with an action-comedy that features a rousing, continuous sing-a-long by Nat King Cole and Stubby Kaye. I like to picture these production meetings. “How about Jane Fonda as a sexy gunslinger — and she leads a gang — and we’ll have this singing Greek chorus highlighting the action — and Lee Marvin will play two roles!” “Whatever! Sure! Go for it!”

Nowadays, studios freak out when Johnny Depp shows up on a pirate set with gold teeth and dreadlocks. But a silver nose for Marvin? Hell, why not! We may enjoy a lot more sex and violence, but our films have become far more bland when it comes to sheer wackiness.

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The Coen Brothers’ latest film, a remake of the 1969 western True Grit, has found its Mattie Ross, the spunky teen who enlists the aid of alcoholic US marshal Rooster Cogburn to avenge her father’s murder. The role, played by Kim Darby in the original, will be filled by relative newcomer Hailee Steinfeld.

With two short films and a small role on the cancelled FOX sitcom Back to You, Steinfeld will certainly have her work cut out for her taking on the major role of Ross, described by the casting call as “tough, strong, and [telling] it like it is”–to say nothing of working with Hollywood heavyweights the Coens.

The casting of Steinfeld also comes after several other casting announcements, including Matt Damon as La Beouf, a Texas Ranger who joins forces with Ross and Cogburn (and played by Glen Campbell in the original); Josh Brolin as killer Tom Chaney (originally played by Jeff Corey); and Jeff Bridges as Rooster. The film is scheduled to begin shooting in the spring with a tentative release date of December 2010.

The original film, based on a 1968 novel by author Charles Portis, starred John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn, a role so popular it earned Wayne an Oscar (his only win) as well as a sequel, Rooster Cogburn, which also starred Katherine Hepburn as an elderly spinster.

My Name is Nobody looms large among spaghetti western and Sergio Leone fans — and probably Henry Fonda’s too, since it was the last Western this legendary range rider appeared in. The legend of its creation is an amusing one, and a rare one among directors who are generally sensitive about the worlds they created. Leone, appalled at the spaghetti western industry that he had wrought, decided to gleefully destroy it with his protege,  Tonio Valerii.

If the Italian western was going to become a joke led by actors dubbing themselves Flint Westwood, then by Tuco they were going to make it the biggest joke of all. And the film certainly is. It’s like Mel Brooks by way of Leone — every sacred scene of Leone’s films is mocked and beaten dead of its coolness.

The only thing missing is that they never shoot a blonde fellow in a serape, or kick around a guy smoking a big yellow pipe. Perhaps they couldn’t quite bring themselves to do it. There’s a crying clown under all the pranks, and when Fonda’s character gives his grand speech about the dying West and its romantic gunslingers, you know that Leone, Valerii, and Fonda mean every word of it.

They also refused to slum it. They may be burying the genre, but Leone and Valerii couldn’t resist showing their country copycats how it was done. It may be a satire, but every shot is perfection. Leone personally directed the opening scene, and I think even a blind film fan could tell. It oozes the tension and raw sound that always made his openings a thing of epic, cruel beauty.

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Hollywood has been remaking old television shows into big screen adventures for years now. It’s been a trend with limited success, and every time you think it’ll die off with something like The Mod Squad,  we get news of another Charlie’s Angels or a big screen McCloud.

Lately, there’s been a weird interest in reviving tv westerns.  Last August, CBS Films announced they were developing a feature film based on Gunsmoke, the legendary series that ran for an exhausting 20 seasons.   Prior to television, it ran for nearly ten years as a radio serial.  No one could get enough of Marshall Matt Dillon back in the day, and apparently he’s due for a modern makeover.

Despite having its heyday in the 1950s and 1960s, Gunsmoke was quite edgy for its time. Long before John Ford or Sergio Leone,  Norman MacDonald and John Meston sought to dismantle the cutesy, archtypical Old West that had been seen up until then. They wanted a harder, cruder hero and a more realistic and brutal West. Their Marshall Matt Dillon was no hero in a white hat, and the Dodge City he patrolled was full of shady and violent characters.

It was aimed at adults, and was one of the first radio shows to depict scalping, prostitution, opium addiction, and massacres. Dillon killed a heck of a lot of people, and his creators proudly said that he was as scarred and dangerous as the villains of Dodge City.

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It’s taken five weeks of Western Wednesdays, but The Duke has finally arrived. I haven’t meant to neglect him. In fact, half the reason I took on this feature is because my knowledge of Wayne is so very poor. He’s all over my Netflix queue, but I kept putting him off simply because he’s a bit daunting. He has cast such a long shadow over this genre that I thought I ought to watch films he wasn’t in in order to better appreciate his stature.

This week, I had decided that the last column 2009 had to go out with Wayne. As divine providence would have it, Justin Gray suggested The Comancheros. Gray has wonderful taste in film, and he’s the co-author of DC’s Jonah Hex which gives him Eastwood stature. When he suggests a Western, you watch it immediately.

The Comancheros is a great, great Western that avoids a lot of the pitfalls of the genre. It’s a big movie, but it’s tightly plotted, and never gets lost in the sprawl of the desert. There isn’t a single character you meet that doesn’t have something to do with the storyline.

I’m so used to throwaway scenes that when the film started in New Orleans, I was very skeptical it would make it to the Republic of Texas in any way that was believable. But it does! And it’s so fun to watch it make it’s way that I’ll only give you the barest of summaries:

Paul Regret (Stuart Whitman) is a Louisiana dandy who begins the film as only one cocky half of a New Orleans duel.  He kills his opponent, and is threatened with the hangman’s noose because this particular honor-seeker happened to be a judge’s son. He flees Louisiana, but the lawman’s arm is long, and he’s finally nabbed by Ranger Capt. Jake Cutter (John Wayne). But that’s only the beginning of the adventure, and you’ll have to watch to find out if Regret ever makes it to the hangman’s noose.

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Today’s Wednesday Western comes to you courtesy of a namedrop by the big man himself, Clint Eastwood.  If Eastwood casually says The Ox-Bow Incident is a really good Western,  you have to drop what you’re doing and watch it.   (Considering it’s only one hour long, it’s pretty easy to find some time to do it!)

I can see why Eastwood likes Ox-Bow.  There are shades of Hang ‘Em High and Unforgiven in it. It’s the kind of film that reminds me why I was so eager to explore this genre. We all tend to classify Westerns as rousing shoot-em-ups and masculine swagger, but there are a lot of dark, bitter stories hidden among the John Ford panoramas. Even this film is often billed as a Henry Fonda movie about cattle rustlers, giving the impression that it’ll be a classic horse opera.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

This is a haunting morality play that takes the glamor out of posses and deputies, emphasizes the danger of a mob, and makes you think twice about rooting for Wild West justice.  While Eastwood has been credited as “killing” the Western with Unforgiven, I think The Ox-Bow Incident should have done it back in 1943.

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This is only the second installment of Western Wednesday, and I believe I have already seen the messiest and strangest film that ever boasted a horse, a pistol, and a sunset: Mad Dog Morgan. It was a toss-up between Morgan and The Ox-Bow Incident, but I had a thirst for some Ozploitation, and Morgan is a pretty legendary piece of Australian filmmaking.

It also seemed like a good idea to expand the cinematic frontier early on in this feature, and visit a place that has a remarkably similar history. Americans tend to think that the myth of the Wild Wild West is theirs, and theirs alone – and it certainly is, but Australia enjoyed a settlement experience that was just as violent and lawless as our own. They just had kangaroos instead of buffalo, and convicts instead of hardy pioneers.

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I used to hate Westerns.  I live in the wide and rugged expanse of Colorado, grew up in the shadow of the Rockies, and see cowboy boots on a daily basis. Heck, I even did a volunteer stint at a western museum. I couldn’t stand watching films that were basically set in my own backyard, even if the days of gunslingers and posses were long gone.

Later, I finally came around. I can’t say when this shift happened — probably upon my first adult viewing of Lonesome Dove, or maybe even as recent as James Mangold’s remake of 3:10 to Yuma. But I suddenly found Westerns to be a lot of fun, and I’ve enjoyed going back and watching all John Wayne and John Ford offerings that I’ve missed due to my snobbery.

Because I’m the type of girl who overshares everything, I thought it would be fun to chronicle this obsession, and encourage others to ride along with me. Thus, Wednesday Westerns was born. Every Wednesday, I’m going to explore this dusty and acrid genre, finding the good, the bad, and the ugly examples along the way. I hope you’ll watch and discuss along with me — and I’m going to try and make as many selections from online streaming options to prevent you from putting off the ride.

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