The Man from New Mexico: Rattlesnakes and Bad Business

If you've got a soft spot for grainy, black-and-white westerns where the hero shows up out of nowhere just to fix everything, you'll probably enjoy The Man from New Mexico. It’s not going to win any awards for complexity, but if you hate movies that spend forty minutes on "character development" before anything actually happens, this one is for you. Purists who demand high-budget polish or deep psychological dives? Stay away. You'll just be annoyed by how fast they move the chess pieces.

The whole thing kicks off with a weirdly specific detail: cattle are dying from, of all things, rattlesnake venom. It’s a bizarrely gross scheme for a cattle company, but it works as an excuse for Tom Tyler to look stern and squint at the horizon. He plays Jess Ryder, the guy who just rides in from out of state to clean up the mess.

There's this one moment where they swap the sheriff's office sign for a corporate one. It’s so blatant it’s almost funny. It feels like the filmmakers were terrified we wouldn't understand who the bad guys were without them literally hanging a sign on the building.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Man from New Mexico (1932) through its definitive frames.

I found myself zoning out during the scenes at the ranch house, but the stuff in the woods kept me awake. There’s a frantic energy to the way they move from the corral to the cellar. It's not smooth, but it feels like they were trying to beat the sunset to finish shooting.

Odd Little Notes

• The cook, Ching, is doing a lot of heavy lifting for the plot. He’s essentially the security guard for the cellar prisoners.
• The hypodermic needle plot point is surprisingly dark for something that feels like it was filmed in an afternoon.
• The pacing is frantic. Characters just sort of teleport where they need to be.
• The tension in the cabin scene, when Jess interrupts the signing of the deed, is pure, unadulterated classic western cheese. I loved it.

Comparing this to something like The Fighting Sap makes you realize how much the genre relied on these archetypes to get the job done. It doesn't try to be anything other than a quick adventure. Sometimes that's exactly what I need on a Tuesday night.

I can't tell if the acting is actually stiff or if they were just trying to speak as quickly as possible to save on film stock. Either way, it works for the tone. You don't watch this for the nuance. You watch it for the moment the posse finally shows up and the bad guys look appropriately surprised.

It’s not a masterpiece, and I’m sure it wasn't meant to be. But the way the story just barrels forward without asking for permission? I kind of respect that. 🌵