BONE TOMAHAWK. Not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach

Kurt Russell is back! Bone Tomahawk is a brutal western with a fairly simple plot, but a finale that will especially please fans of gory horror. S. Craig Zahler’s debut combines these two genres in a surprising way, but rather than focusing on flashy carnage, he’s more interested in contemplating violence and questioning its justification.

In the prologue, we meet two murderers and thieves who, after one of their crimes, flee when disturbed by the sounds of approaching people. They stumble upon what looks like a Native American burial ground. Instead of going around it, they decide to cut through. One of them is killed almost immediately, an arrow piercing his throat. The other escapes and, after several days, arrives in a small town—but his odd behavior alarms Sheriff Hunt, who shoots him in the leg. A doctor is called to treat the injured man, but she, the sheriff’s deputy, and the wounded stranger are soon abducted by a tribe of cannibalistic Native Americans. The woman’s husband, Hunt, his backup deputy, and a professional Indian killer form a rescue party to retrieve the captives.

This is a film where the details matter, which is why I tried to describe the premise as precisely as possible. I say “premise,” although by the time the rescue party sets out, a solid forty minutes of the film have passed. The director doesn’t rush the action—he prefers to spend time observing the characters so we can form our own opinions of them before they mount up and head into the unknown.

Arthur O’Dwyer (played excellently by Patrick Wilson, even if his role is the least flashy of the quartet) is driven by determination to save his wife, despite having a broken leg. Sheriff Hunt (of course, played by Russell) is calm and wise. Chicory isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed—he’s a talker—but he feels obligated to join the chase as the backup deputy. He’s played by Richard Jenkins in what is perhaps the film’s most balanced performance, considering the simplicity of his character. And then there’s John Brooder (the best role of Matthew Fox’s career), a haughty dandy and cold professional, the fastest and most accurate gun in the group.

I must admit, Bone Tomahawk surprised me with its characters and the amount of time the director and writer devote to showing us that they are far more complex than they first appear. In fact, the whole film is about them—about a journey that doesn’t so much unite these men as it reveals the differences between them. These differences aren’t just in their clothing or speech but in their principles and their moral compass. The clash of their personalities is just as fascinating as the mission they undertake. If only they knew what awaited them at the end of the road.

Watching Zahler’s film is a strange experience. It feels as if the filmmaker traveled back in time to document a real expedition. There are no unnecessary embellishments, the music is almost nonexistent (though the closing song is worth every award), and during the journey, we more often see the men sitting around a campfire than riding. The slow pace might discourage some viewers, but the director doesn’t seem to care. He’s consistent in his vision and style. And it works—much like the novels of Cormac McCarthy. Their starkness demands the reader’s full attention and draws them closer to the cruelty that defines the characters. Zahler is as devoted to lengthy conversations as he is to gut-wrenching violence. In both cases, he tests the viewer’s tolerance—though by the first scene, where David Arquette’s character tries to slit a throat with a dull knife, we already know what we’re in for.

This is not a film for the faint of heart or weak of stomach, although the director does inject a fair bit of humor. It mostly arises from the personality clashes among the protagonists. Chicory’s attempts to appear wiser than he is are especially funny. Brooder’s arrogance is glaring—his horse even looks better than everyone else’s. The town’s mayor is a mere figurehead, while his wife holds the real power. The saloon pianist tires after two songs and demands more money and whiskey to play a third. The dialogue is wonderfully written—so natural it feels lifted straight from life. “I’m too vain to be a cripple”—a single line that tells us everything we need to know about the character and elevates him in our eyes for his self-awareness.

Zahler’s debut can be interpreted in two ways. As a tribute to human selflessness that drives four very different men to risk everything to save one of their wives. But also as a depiction of male stupidity that leads them straight into hell—a criticism that’s voiced outright in the film’s conclusion. The director reflects on the violence in their lives and asks whether it’s justified. O’Dwyer and Chicory serve as the moral compass, criticizing the more extreme decisions of their companions. Hunt isn’t a fan of violence, though he doesn’t shy from shooting a suspect in the leg if needed. Perhaps had he acted differently with the stranger early on, no abduction would have occurred. Brooder lives by the law of the gun, and often, he seems to be right. The filmmaker even justifies the worst actions of his heroes, since they pale in comparison to the inhuman cruelty of their foes. But that justification is temporary, as confirmed by the final gesture—one character throwing away a stone.

This is a most unusual western. It carries John Ford’s understanding of character, the austerity of Cormac McCarthy’s prose, and the brutality of Italian cannibal horror films. Yet Bone Tomahawk also has a touch of lyricism. It comes from the director’s understanding of his characters and the era they live in—something many modern filmmakers completely overlook. This quality alone makes me eagerly anticipate Zahler’s next film, whether it’s a western or not.

A final word on Russell. He is, of course, the star of the film, and his character evokes obvious comparisons to Wyatt Earp, whom he played in Tombstone. The actor’s age shows—wrinkles, squintier eyes than ever—but he’s still the same man who once played Snake Plissken, battled shape-shifting aliens in Antarctica, was the bravest firefighter cinema has seen, and one of the few (maybe the only) to survive Steven Seagal. In Bone Tomahawk, he once again rises to the occasion. Yes, he’s older, less wild, and not as agile as before, but when it’s time to face off against a tribe of monsters, he’s the right man for the job.