The release of Ed Harris’s second directorial effort Appaloosa is an interesting reflection of the country’s current psychological state. Following a few decades of war epics (Saving Private Ryan, Behind Enemy Lines, Braveheart, Letters from Iwo Jima) the average American viewer is becoming disillusioned with the oppressive force of warring governments. In an age when there is more government intervention and we have less control over our own lives, the population has demonstrated a yearning for independence. This desire reflects itself in the recent revival of the Western.

In 2007 we saw the success of The Assassination of Jesse James and 3:10 to Yuma. These films, as examples of the Western genre, depict hard-living men who abide by their own rules. The Western paradigm vilifies the shadowy figure of tyrannical government, and longs for a time when men controlled their own destiny; as the tagline of the film states, “The law you live by is the law you die by.” In this sense, Harris’s film is similar to those preceding it; Virgil Cole (Ed Harris) is the unwavering cowboy who is assisted by his faithful sidekick and fashion deviant, Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen). Virgil and Everett are brought into Appaloosa, a small town suffering from the murderous ways of devious rancher and entrepreneur, Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons). When Virgil and Everett arrive, they become town marshals and demonstrate the theme of man living by his own code when they instate their laws throughout the town.

Though the two men exemplify the cowboy archetype in some aspects, there are a number of instances that betray the hard-boiled stereotype. Aside from Everett’s keen fashion sense, which consists of stylish bandanas and unique facial hair, Everett’s character displays propensity for academia. As Virgil delivers his unaffected, tough guy lines, he often falters on a word. After stammering for a moment, he refers to Everett who never fails to provide the missing vocabulary word—a trait not usually associated with the lack of structure in the Wild Wild West.

Initially Virgil Cole appears to be an unbreakable stone face; however, the arrival of Allison French (Renée Zellwegger) proves this assumption wrong. When the female piano player arrives and shows the slightest bit of interest in Virgil, he returns to a boyish state, cracking shamefully flirtatious smiles and gossiping with Everett about whether or not she likes him. Harris pulls of the strong-silent type but he also passes for the giddy young schoolboy, with looks reminiscent of a third grade boy when a cute blonde-haired girl tells him that she “like, likes him.”

Unfortunately for Virgil and Everett, Ms. French turns out to be a world-class floozy with serious daddy issues. I don’t want to say that Ms. French ruins the film, but she does. Zellweger’s lackluster performance consists merely of batting her eyelashes and making pathetic attempts at seducing men. First off, I have no idea what the casting director was thinking when they cast Zellweger as the female sex object. It can be argued that beauty is relative, but Ms. French falls short of beauty; she falls right on her face, which can be the only explanation for her swollen appearance. The fact that Ms. French, who is beautiful neither inside nor out, causes so much uproar makes the conflict seem rather trivial.

The quintessential cowboy versus Indian (Native Americans to be politically correct) conflict arises; however, its inclusion is a weak point in Harris’s direction. The Native Americans sneak up and engage in a minor conflict with the Shelton Brothers (Lance Henriksen and Adam Nelson), whom have captured Ms. French and are aiding in the escape of the imprisoned Bragg. The issue of the Native American’s presence is never addressed prior to their arrival. After a brief conflict, they ride away, never to be seen again.

Virgil and Everett aid the Shelton Brothers in their shoot out with the Native Americans. Virgil reveres the two brothers as formidable shooters, yet their presence in the film is insubstantial. During a shoot out that ends very quickly (as Everett humorously notices), they appear to be important to the progression of the plot; however they disappear in relative anonymity. The triviality of the men who are made out to be important is one fault in Harris’s direction.

Ultimately, the film is entertaining and if you can look passed the vapid creature that is Renée Zellweger, it takes an interesting approach to the Western genre by creating educated cowboys (maybe an effort to distance the cowboy from the one currently running our country). Though it does not stand up to The Assassination of Jesse James or 3:10 to Yuma, Appaloosa is a valid effort from second-time director Ed Harris.