3:10 to Yuma--Don't read 'till you see film

3:10 to Yuma--Very violent, felt like I was watching re-runs of CSI as vet pries bullet out of Pinkerton's stomach. Dark, harsh, and cold. And I hated that R.Crowe didn't take riding lessons to transfer from English to Western riding because it breaks up the otherwise strong authenticity. But, . . . I keep thinking about this film. Christian Bale is great--only momentarily did his role in Prestige come to mind. (I never thought I could watch him in another film without envisioning his twin-ness in Prestige.) What sticks with me is that neither good nor bad wins, or rather, neither loses in this film. Black-hat, smooth-talking killer Crowe forms a strong respectful bond with Bale and,in the end, when his gang shoots at Bale, trying to save their boss from boarding the prison train, Crowe screams, then turns and coldly kills his own men. He, then, salutes Bale's young son and climbs the train steps to prison. The boy, who has despised his father--thought him a coward--runs to Bale and says, "You did it, Pa." He's proud and jubilant. But, how ironic that Crowe is bonded to Bale by Bale's lack of heroics. Bale's ambivalence then eventual manipulations for money from the Pinkertons and later his admission to Crowe that "I'm not a hero" keeps Crowe from killing Bale and actually wins his reluctant friendship. (By the way, it's only in this part of the film that Crowe kicks in and acts, though he has flashes of brilliance here and there.) But, has Bale saved the world from a killer? No. The movie ends with the good guy (Bale)dead and Crowe whistling for his horse as he sits on the train to Yuma. The end shot is of black horse running after train to pick up Crowe (who couldn't jump to the back of a running horse if his clothes were on fire--big flaw, I never once believed this outlaw was any other than Russell Crowe; he especially pales in relationship to Glen Ford's much earlier performance--except in end scenes).
But, I liked the film and will return to see it. First, because I'm a sucker for Western genre and second because black and white are really many colors of gray. My daughter (who was not bothered by Crowe's lazy acting) felt amazed that she wanted the bad guy to win. The film really is well-written--especially for "when" it was written. I remember in its earlier version, I was always on Glen Ford's side (black hat)also and felt the wimp who was taking him in deserved to die. Even when I saw Ford (and later Crowe) kill in cold-blooded violence, I was thinking, "Ooooh, not true; he didn't really kill that guy." It's similar to my first reaction to O'Conner's "A Good Man is Hard to Find." When the Misfit turns and shoots the grandmother "three times through the chest," I thought, no, not really, hey, this is a comic story, not a tragedy.
What's with our inability to call evil "evil"? Is this a willful blindness to reality? Or simple naivety. (In my case, it can't be.)Does this desire to believe most men/women are really good at heart explain the Germans who were not involved in the war inability to acknowledge the Holocaust even while it took place within short distances from their homes? (My son, who served a mission in Germany, always responds with, "No, Mom, the prison camps were hidden." Yeah? Well, who brought in food? Who passed out blind folds when prisoners were on death marches through the countrysides?)
Or, as in this movie, is it a question of relativity? Some of my druggie, but good hearted, friends shine in my eyes when I compare them to high priests who I expect to be righteous, but who live their religion when it's convenient. Yet, we're talking "wrong" in both cases. My own perspective puzzles me.
3:10 to Yuma is a study in relativity. Kudos to Bale that he pulls out the poor rancher role to match--play by play--bad guy's role. Crowe's character is charming; he even wins over Bale's son (an added character not there in earlier film), yet he really is a snake who kills without blinking. But the screen-writer plays him off worse characters, like a sheriff who tortures Crowe with electric prods and a posse member who has burnt down Bale's barn at the beginning of film, so, the audience moves to champion Crowe, actually gets annoyed when Crowe shows his cold vicious side. When Crowe kills a gray haired Pinkerton, whom we like because he's such a tough gritty man, the audience murmurs in protest. (I did not recognize Peter Fonda--good for him.)Crowe knocks him over a cliff because of a remark Fonda makes about his mother, which is ironic since Crowe tells Bale that Crowe's mother told him to wait at train tracks and read the bible. He read the bible all the way through (quotes from it often in movie), but his mother never returns. Yet he kills Fonda's character because he slurs his mother's name. Is this humor? Or more complexity in Crowe's character? The movie comes down to Crowe choosing to help Bale become a hero, but we know this is a momentary lapse in his evil nature. The audience knows that he will go on to murder many people, even though the screen writer (or director)has fooled the audience into losing perspective of what is good and evil by posing lesser degrees of evil against evil several times through the movie. Get it?(Hmmm If I had time, I'd rewrite--especially that last sentence, so this doesn't sound so confusing.)I found this fascinating and blatantly true. Bale hasn't made a dent in Crowe's career of killing. But, a killer's just-by-chance crossing of paths with one poor rancher turns the rancher into a hero, and we know his son will go home safely, save the farm, and generations will speak the Bale character's name with respect and honor. The whole family has moved into a safer, respected realm. So, did good win out? Yet, it couldn't have turned good without the bad helping it along. Anyway, I'd like to hear others' opinion. The film's not making it to my A list; for me, it's about a B or B-, but it's intriguing.