The Western Code: A Dusty Old Time at the Movies

Is it worth your time?

If you have a thing for black-and-white horse operas where the plot is thinner than a piece of parchment, then pull up a chair. If you need something that feels modern, complex, or even remotely grounded in real human behavior, look elsewhere. This is for the people who want to see a guy in a cowboy hat solve problems by simply being the guy with the biggest badge.

The whole setup in Carabinas feels like a stage play that someone decided to drag out into the desert. There’s a lot of standing around and talking about who owns what land and who is going to marry whom. It’s not exactly People on Sunday when it comes to capturing the vibe of a place, that’s for sure. The desert here is just a backdrop, not a character.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Western Code (1932) through its definitive frames.

The Stuff That Stuck

Tim McCoy plays the lawman with this weirdly stiff energy, like he’s terrified of wrinkling his shirt. It’s funny watching him try to act cool while people are screaming about family inheritances in the background. Dwight Frye shows up, and honestly, I spent half the movie just waiting for him to do something weird. He doesn't really get to, which is a bit of a letdown.

The pacing is… well, it’s like a horse that can’t decide if it wants to trot or just stand still and eat grass. Some scenes fly by because someone is shooting a gun, and others drag on while people explain the plot for the third time. I swear I understood it the first time.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Western Code (1932) through its definitive frames.

• That horse, Sheik, honestly has more charisma than half the human cast.
• The dialogue sounds like it was written by someone who had never actually spoken to another person in real life.
• Every time a door opens, you just know someone is going to walk in looking angry.

There’s a moment where they’re arguing over the stepdaughter's fate, and the camera lingers for about five seconds too long on a bowl of fruit. It was the most interesting thing in the room. I don't know why, but that bowl of fruit felt more honest than the villain's evil plan.

It’s nowhere near as weird or experimental as There It Is, but it shares that same feeling of being trapped in its own tiny world. It’s not trying to be high art, and thank goodness for that. It’s just trying to get from the opening credits to the final shootout without running out of film stock. 🐎

If you like movies that don't ask you to think too hard, you'll be fine. Just don't go in expecting a life-changing experience. Sometimes a movie is just a movie, and this one is definitely that.