I haven’t been a good Western fan lately. Maybe it was just too hot. But I have to say that 3:10 to Yuma was the perfect film to end the drought. It’s an expertly directed and artful Western with innovative yet elegant cinematography, deeply atmospheric from the moment we hear the beautiful opening song — playing over what are possibly the most gorgeous opening credits I’ve ever seen. Everything looks very pretty, and like it was made with meticulous care. The pacing is gentle; it’s a very focused, deliberate kind of slowness that helps build tension and suspense.

Now, Van Heflin. The man who gets better with every movie that I watch. He has a quality that is quite rare and that works in his as well as in our favor: He’s an everyman without being bland, and when he comes up strong, he’s an utterly human hero. I think that’s why it’s so easy to put ourselves in his shoes, so easy to root for him— because we don’t look up nor down on him, we’re at eye level.

He's looking at Glenn Ford, and I realize that I don't mind the guy all that much in Westerns — especially when he’s wearing a hat that covers half of his face. But as with Henry Fonda, I have a bit of a hard time accepting him as a tough guy in the Old West. Perception is subjective, of course, but to me they come across as emotionally weak men, and therefore resort to posturing and smugness instead of exuding a quiet authority. But I’ve liked him a whole lot less in other films (especially in Noir), and because he did have strong chemistry with Heflin, it worked out alright in the end.

These characters, although they are antagonistic, envy each other, even admire each other — both have something the other one wants. Heflin leads a simple life, his worries are the worries of many; he's a little short on cash, and if he could just get a tiny little bit more respect, that'd be nice. But he wants to earn it. He doesn't need to become a local hero, but if his kids thought he was, he wouldn't correct them. He’s just never really had the opportunity to shine, to prove he’s a real man.

He seems to see him in the glaring and snarling of Glenn Ford. Something unpredictable in his eyes, something dangerous in his moves — yes, that’s the kind of guy he’d like to be, the kind of guy his wife secretly dreams of being with, for sure. Ford however has his own secrets. Looking at Heflin when he isn’t looking, there's a softness now in his eyes, a longing for the longing to end — he wants to stop running and pause right here, in Heflin’s honesty, in a life of responsibilites and dreams of honor, a life that’s okay because people like that have hopes for tomorrow.

And tomorrow ends with hope indeed. It ends with a well-earned ending. As beautiful as the beginning, with the same song playing again, I am left with the desire to start all over again. Which I will. Some Sunday afternoon around three o’clock, maybe.