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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. War of the Range remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Honestly, only if you have a very specific craving for black-and-white horse operas from the thirties. If you like your pacing snappy and your dialogue natural, stay away. If you find comfort in the sound of spurs clinking and men in hats pointing at each other in the desert, you'll be right at home.
The plot is exactly what you expect. A foreman wants to fence off the range, the boss follows along, and the son—Tom Tyler—decides he'd rather stand with the little guy. It's all very black and white, literally and figuratively.
Tom Tyler has that classic sturdy look, but he spends half the runtime looking like he’s trying to remember if he left the stove on at home. There’s a scene where he’s framed for theft that is so telegraphed I almost shouted at the screen. The framing happens, the dad gets mad, and we all move on to the next shootout.
The pacing is… well, it’s a bit of a slog in the middle. Sometimes the camera just lingers on a landscape for a few seconds too long. It feels like the director was trying to make it feel epic, but it just ends up feeling like a long pause in a conversation that already went nowhere.
There's a weird lack of tension in the action scenes. Guys get shot and just kind of lean against a fence for a bit before sliding down. It’s not exactly The Blue Carbuncle in terms of clever plotting, that's for sure.
It’s not a *bad* movie, just a very, very tired one. It feels like it was filmed on a Tuesday afternoon because someone had a contract to fulfill. Sometimes that’s enough to keep you watching, but don't expect to remember it by tomorrow morning. 🤠