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2.8/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 2.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Range Riders remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Honestly, unless you are a die-hard fan of the golden era of low-budget westerns, you might find this one a bit of a slog. It’s for the folks who love the smell of old celluloid and don’t mind if the story is basically just people riding horses toward each other until someone falls off.
If you prefer your movies to have, you know, actual stakes or nuanced dialogue, you’re going to hate it. It’s a relic, and it definitely feels like one. 🌵
The whole thing feels like it was filmed in an afternoon, which is part of the charm. There is this scene where the bandits are just standing around looking menacing, but they look more like they’re waiting for a bus than preparing for a raid. It’s oddly stiff, but you can’t look away.
Victor Adamson looks like he’s lived a thousand lives, or at least spent way too long under that hat. The pacing is weirdly jumpy, too. One minute we’re reading a letter, the next there’s a gunfight that seems to happen for no reason other than the film stock was running out.
It’s not quite as tight as The Count of Monte Cristo when it comes to narrative flow, but it’s got a scrappiness that you don't really see anymore. It’s like a distant, grumpier cousin to Keep 'Em Rolling.
The movie gets noticeably better once the shooting starts, mostly because everyone stops talking and starts moving. The dialogue is pretty clunky, honestly. It feels like they wrote the script on the back of a napkin while eating lunch.
Sometimes the camera just lingers on a landscape shot for an extra five seconds for no reason at all. It’s weirdly hypnotic. Don't go in expecting a masterpiece. Go in expecting a dusty, perfectly average afternoon flick. It’s fine. It works. That’s enough. 🤠