
A definitive 5.1/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Texas Terror remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like old-school black and white westerns where the dialogue is thin and the shadows are long, sure. If you need a complex plot or don't care for 1930s pacing, you're going to be checking your watch.
It’s a John Wayne flick. You know exactly what you’re getting before the first horse appears on screen. Specifically, it’s that brand of B-movie charm that feels like it was put together on a lunch break.
There's a scene near the beginning where the guilt weighs on Higgins. It’s supposed to be heavy, but it lasts about five seconds before we’re back to the desert. The movie doesn't want you to be sad. It wants you to watch a guy walk around with a pickaxe.
I couldn't help but think about Rarin' to Go while watching this. There’s that same dusty, bare-bones energy. Everything feels a bit like a sketch that never got fully colored in.
Sometimes the camera lingers on a rock formation for no reason at all. Is it for atmosphere? Or did the director just really like that specific boulder? It's weirdly distracting.
It's not a masterpiece. It doesn't try to be. The whole thing is over before you’ve finished a bowl of popcorn. It's just a guy trying to clear his name while everyone around him talks in circles.
If you're in the mood for something that doesn't demand you use your brain, this fits the bill. It's not great, but it's not trying to trick you into thinking it's something it isn't. Sometimes that's enough. 🤠