How the F@%k is 3:10 to Yuma rated higher??

My point is that reviewers, who see lots of films, often have more interesting and better informed opinions about them than the average (if there is such a thing) anonymous contributor to a chat board.

I completely agree. Roger Ebert's review of 3:10 to Yuma is of far greater value than yours.

Not always, mind you. My opinions, for example, are excellent, and I'm just one of those anonymous posters. Of course, I'm a genius where film is concerned

In that case, prove it.

Here is my critique of last year, a post to which you never responded.

I don't like actors who show their contempt for doing a good job

No one wins acting awards and recognition (as this ensemble cast did) by "showing their contempt for doing a good job." Certainly not two of the greatest actors working today, not even the supporting cast, which to all accounts, was superb.

Are you really prepared to demonstrate that Van Heflin and Glenn Ford were more accomplished actors in their version of 3:10 than Bale and Crowe were in theirs? How so?

The way I see it, Bale's Dan Evans is a fully-realized, complex character, a traumatized Civil War vet beaten down and betrayed by forces beyond his control. Neither hero nor coward, Evans' true strength lies in his integrity, but until he discovers that in himself, he is motivated by a palpable sense of desperation, every bit of which is etched on his weather-beaten face. Bale shows us that Dan still had some fight left in him, but you get the sense that his reserves are dwindling, that he is a man teetering on the brink of collapse. By contrast, Van Heflin's Evans is simpler and more wooden, a coward who withers under the castrating gaze of his wife and who is motivated solely by financial need. Not all of that is Van Heflin's fault, since his chamber-play of a film doesn't give us much of a sense of his hardscrabble life. Nor does it explore his relationship with his children. He is a conventional pater familias, nothing more.

A similar passion and complexity distinguished Crowe's powerhouse performance from Ford's interesting, but less compelling, villain-as-guy-next-door. Crowe's Wade is a scripture-quoting, art-loving brute of a man, sardonic, world-weary, cunning, and full of surprises. Despite his surface affability, we need no convincing that he's dangerous. He's like a hurricane, deadly calm at the center but capable of unpredictable, savage fury. Ford, on the other hand, always seemed more at home when he was repressing a nervous edginess. His Evans has shifty charm, but none of Crowe's danger, intensity or complexity. Maybe that's why Ford's seduction scene with Felicia Farr comes across as awkward soap opera, while Crowe invests the same scene with a satyr-like eroticism. The same can be said for every other scene. Crowe's prodigious talent galvanizes every moment, however trivial. For example in the scene where he's taking a leak and bantering with Evans, his subtle facial expressions and body language also register awareness of approaching danger. This is typical of his trademark ability to reveal several, often conflicting, emotions at once.

Like Bale, Crowe is an intensely physical actor who is very comfortable on a horse. Van Heflin and Ford, on the other hand, look like they're more comfortable riding the LIRR... right into the office.

Then there's the script to consider. In the original, we don't get much of a sense of each man's likes and dislikes, of their hidden hurts and aspirations. In the remake we do. This is especially true in the case of Ben Wade, who is first revealed to us as a cold, Machiavellian boss, but whose actions and worldview become more comprehensible as his back story is revealed. In the end, the engaging, perceptive script overcomes our skepticism about the budding friendship between these two ostensibly polar opposites: we see how a common sense of betrayal and a common yearning for integrity in a soulless world, unite the lead characters.

directors who don't demand it

Not only did Mangold get what he needed from both his leads, he also coaxed out some unforgettable performances from the rest of the cast.

Think back on the original. How many people were buzzing about Richard Jaeckel's turn as Charlie Prince? Now ask yourself how many people failed to be mesmerized by Ben Foster's chilling, flamboyant, yet nuanced performance in the same role? Once again the comparison is not entirely fair because the writers took a fine script by Halstead Welles and made it even better. But Mangold knew how to inspire his actors and how to use close ups to maximum effect. Another case in point is actor Alan Tudyk, who has very few lines but who manages to win us over all the same. Then there's Peter Fonda firing on all cylinders as the leathery bounty hunter Brian McElroy, Kevin Durand bringing surprising depth to his small but riveting character, young Logan Lerman delighting audiences with his poise and charm. No wonder the Screen Actor's Guild nominated Mangold's film for a best ensemble cast award.

As is a big, pulsing label: "trendy."

All movies follow trends. The original tapped into the postwar obsession with male identity crises, to a fault, I might add. Leora Dana's anguished, accusing stares were overplayed, a flaw compounded by Delmar Daves's ill-advised decision to reprise them several times. Daves always was a bit of a ham.

If adding an overlay of social, economic and historical context to a psychological Western is trendy, I'm all for it. Daves's version has all the unrelenting claustrophobia of a stage play, whereas Mangold uses the broad and epic canvas of the Western landscape to highlight claustrophobia where it counts most, in the bridal suite scene. Daves shows precious little insight into ways environment (physical, cultural, social) shapes personalities. Mangold adds depth to his psychological Western by depicting the sweeping economic and social forces that were changing identities and social relationships. Westerns are famous for turning landscape into a character, but Mangold goes one better by turning the cold, heartless unstoppable railroad into a character. By the film's end, we even hear it's "pounding heart." The railroad, as showcased in Mangold's capable direction, becomes the incarnation of cold impersonal capitalism challenging the humanity of all who come into its path.

If an aversion to forced, upbeat endings is trendy, I'm all for that too. In this era, even adolescents are sophisticated enough to appreciate that, in the real world, we don't always get our just rewards.

If an ambivalence toward the forces unleashed by capitalism is trendy, so be it. Some people are challenged by the comparisons between 19th century and 21st century rapacity.

It was a bad (careless, thoughtless, badly shot

It certainly wasn't badly shot, far from it. Phedon Papamichael is an award-winning cinematographer, one of the best of his generation working today, with film credits including Patch Adams, Sideways, Walk the Line, the Weather Man, W. and Pursuit of Happyness. His landscape shots are pure poetry. And don't try to fob off the blame on Mangold either. He's the son of two artists, and it shows.

Thoughtless? Don't know how you can say that about a film that manages to combine an effective, more expansive backstory with adept pacing and economy of presentation. Mangold's instincts were solid when he recognized that the characters needed to go on a journey together before we could accept their transformations. He also helped us care about Evans more by introducing a theme all parents can relate to: how do you raise your kids to be moral beings when a glamorous, dangerous, unprincipled world beckons and competes for their attention, when money is the only currency? If that isn't enough, he brings dimension to the smallest characters. Here at IMDb I lost count of the number of threads discussing Tucker's motivations!

they made a more realistic period movie

What was realistic about it? In Mangold's version, you see Chinese forced labor, nasty conflicts over water rights, people working at their trades, a raw, muddy world/work in progress. The hypocrisy of the times. I doubt that the clothes were any more 'realistic" than they were in Daves's version, but at least they were interesting extensions of the characters. Another plus: the soundtrack was not overstated or treacly as it was in the original.

One last thing. The dark humor was great fun. In addition to the whole "They're gonna hang me in the morning" scene, I loved this exchange between Fonda and Tudyk:

What the *beep* kind of doctor are you anyway?

It's kinda nice having a conversation with a patient for a change.

ROGER EBERT's four star review of 3:10 to Yuma (2007)
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070906/REV IEWS/709060305

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[deleted]

The comparisons are hardly meaningless.

3:10 to Yuma did better at the box office, with professional critics, and with IMDb users.

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I though Appaloosa was very good, but Yuma was better. Both were well acted and well cast, for the most part. But my preference is toward films that have larger themes, and as between the two compared here, that would b Yuma.

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