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5.8/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Man from Hell remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you grew up watching The Pioneers on a snowy Saturday morning, you'll probably find this comforting. For anyone else? It’s a bit of a relic. It feels like one of those movies that exists mostly to fill a gap in a schedule.
Watch this if: You like the sound of spurs clinking and men in hats growling at each other.
Skip this if: You need a plot that actually hangs together for more than ten minutes at a time. Sometimes the story just wanders off to look at a cactus, and I'm not entirely sure it ever comes back.
There's a moment about halfway through where our hero walks into a saloon, and honestly, the lighting is so weirdly flat that it looks like he’s walking into a giant cardboard box. It’s charming, in a way. You can almost see the dust motes dancing in the artificial light, or maybe that’s just my screen needing a wipe. 🤠
The pacing is… well, let's just say it doesn't believe in urgency. Characters have a habit of standing around in the street just looking intense at one another. Nobody blinks. They just wait for someone else to make a move, which leads to some truly agonizing pauses.
Speaking of intensity, the dialogue is pure pulp. It hits you like a sack of hammers. There’s no subtlety here, just guys shouting about honor and revenge while holding their gun belts. It reminded me a bit of the frantic energy in The Devil's Trail, though this one feels a lot less sure of its own destination.
It’s not trying to be King of the Wild Horses, but it isn't quite reaching for anything higher than "serviceable." You can tell the budget was likely just enough to pay for the film stock and a few ham sandwiches for the crew. Everything feels a little thin, like a coat of paint that’s been stretched over a fence that’s seen better days.
Still, there's something about these old westerns. They have a grit that modern stuff just doesn't get right. Even when they're bad, they're honest about being bad. It’s not trying to win an award. It’s just trying to get from the opening credits to the sunset finish line without tripping over its own spurs.
I found myself zoning out during the long rides through the desert, but then someone would say something so wonderfully ridiculous that I’d snap back. It’s that kind of experience. Don't think too hard about the motivations. Just watch the hats.
IMDb —
1916
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