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Nowadays, it seems that the vast majority of filmmakers offering their take on the Western genre typically adhere to one of two simple formulas. The first is the heartfelt story of a selfless individual risking it all for the benefit of their downtrodden community, while the other tells of the lonely ultraviolent Eastwood antihero, whose animosity beats the world into exhilarating submission. It is strange then to see that with The Homesman, Tommy Lee Jones’ directorial debut, both ideas are present and brought to their logical conclusions in such a clichéd and schizophrenic manner.
Like a Marty Robbins ballad, we are told the tragic tale of Mary Bee (Hilary Swank), a Nebraskan whose smalltown is ravaged by a merciless winter. Courageous and brokenhearted, she is the benevolent loner who will challenge the elements when her cowardly male neighbours creep back to their respective homes. As her town is ravaged by insanity, infanticide, rape and thievery, she steps up to aid three mentally distraught wives by transporting them to an Iowan asylum.
En route, she meets Jones’ character, George Briggs, and coerces him into assisting her on her treacherous journey. This odd couple begin to encounter every heartless type that inhabits central USA and before long, ‘The Homesman’ becomes a character study, which could only come from the mind of an actor now donning the directorial cap. It has everything that will fit a ‘For Your Consideration’ Oscar reel, from inspirational gestures towards the mentally ill, to monologues that reminisce about the halcyon days of yore. The Horseman is one for the stars and believe you me, there are quite a few, including Meryl Streep, John Lithgow and James Spader, who plays a villain with the worst Irish accent this side of the Mississippi.
Yet, their presence tarnishes the experience somewhat by distracting us from the main events. Adding to this are the overused Hollywood tropes that can become extremely frustrating when things get a bit too sentimental. However, as with any gunslinger movie, where tension is stretched out like an elastic band, which soon snaps and bullets rain down like the wrath of an Old Testament God, the crass emotive areas build up to the height of sugariness, only to be attacked with some spectacular moments of twisted psychopathy.
Overall, Jones steals the show, not as a director, but as an actor, when he makes his transition from the bumbling Silvanito comic relief of ‘A Fistful of Dollars’, into an aged Django while the rest of the plot accelerates out of control. His directorial foray is hardly a masterpiece, but is worth a viewing, because by being similar to every other Western ever made, The Homesman ends up being unlike anything else on the planet.
