A stranger stumbles into the desert town of Absolution with no memory of his past and a futuristic shackle around his wrist. With the help of mysterious beauty Ella and the iron-fisted Colonel Dola...
Cowboys and Aliens shifts genres quicker than mechanically assisted swingin' saloon doors. So, yeah. This is a thing. James Bond, Indiana Jones and The Last Airbender ridin' horses across the dusty western landscape huntin' budget Xenomorphs as they re-enact 'War of the Worlds'. Pretty much sums up the belligerence of five writers cramming in as much stupidity as they possibly could into one feature that clearly needed reining in, especially when the inconsistent Kurtzman and Lindelof are recruited. And would you believe me if I said this amalgamation of "stuff" just doesn't work? Well, you should. An amnesiac outlaw wakes up with a strange contraption on his arm, to which he encounters a town being attacked by extraterrestrials. Him and the townsfolk set off to save the abducted innocents and destroy the menacing creatures equipped with unusually tiny Tyrannosaurus Rex hands.
Genre mash-ups will always face an overbearing issue, particularly if the two genres in question are juxtaposing each other. Favreau attempts to merge western tropes, such as slow-pacing and Native Americans dancing around a campfire, with sci-fi extravagance. Yet despite the lunacy that the title suggests, he takes the blend far too seriously, essentially relinquishing all of the fun that was promised. This is by no means the cast's fault, as Craig, Ford, Rockwell and Dano give commendable performances in order to maintain a sense of tumbleweed buoyancy. Misdirection and derivative writing is to blame.
Favreau is unable to iron out the jarring tonal shifts. One minute we've got an intensely acted gunslinger showdown on our hands. The next, spaceships firing lasers in every direction. Another example? A warm conversation regarding adulthood, instructing an innocent boy to become a brave man. Next scene, ol' Zoidberg walks in, causes chaos and diminishes the sprouted character development that was so close to growing. The genre shifts just do not work. Fact. That doesn't prevent Favreau from producing lavishly crafted set pieces that embrace the shoot-'em-up stance. Embedding both practical and visual effects to define that required sci-fi flair. But when the characters are written with no dimensionality, and the story itself is never involving, well it's all for nothing.
I was inevitably waiting for the "Hoedown Throwdown" to inject some life into the mentally draining plot. Wilde's angelic character really was pointless. Like, utterly futile. Rebirths like a phoenix and provided Craig with some mandatory romance (despite his character attempting to overcome the emotional loss of his lover...). Great. What a waste. When certain subplots are more interesting than the actual story, something hasn't worked. Five writers on the same screenplay is probably your answer. But hey, atleast Gregson-Williams adds some authenticity through his score of grandeur. Wanted to take my horse out back and gallop into the horizon. Yee-haw!
Then I realised I watched the film and rather be transferred to Santa Fe for trial. Some genres aren't made to be combined. Western and sci-fi grossly juxtapose each other, thematically and narratively. If Favreau decided to make light of the scenario, then maybe it could've worked. For now though, it's a "neigh" from me...
