By the 1970s, the Western was losing its old certainty. Gone were the simple heroes and clear morals—replaced by stories that were darker, more complex, and often deeply flawed. This was a decade where the genre became quieter, moodier, and more introspective.

The following films didn’t get the attention they deserved, but they reveal a Western struggling to reinvent itself—and doing so with surprising depth and grit.

1. Barquero (1970)

Gordon Douglas’s Barquero is a tense, stripped-down standoff thriller set on the banks of a river in the fading West. A gang of dangerous outlaws needs to cross into Mexico but are stopped by Travis, a stoic ferry operator who refuses to give them passage.

What unfolds is a claustrophobic siege where physical space seems to shrink and the psychological pressure builds. The film avoids traditional gunfights and instead focuses on the brutal mental warfare of waiting, threats, and endurance.

It’s a quiet exploration of control and survival, where no one is truly in the right and every decision has consequences—it’s not your average Western (despite the presence of Lee Van Cleef), and it’s all the better for it.

What makes it particularly notable is how it subverts the usual Western formula of clear-cut good versus evil. The film’s tension arises from ambiguity—characters are morally grey, their motivations not simply black or white, and the boundaries between hero and villain blur. This psychological depth reflects the era’s shifting attitudes towards authority and violence, making it feel surprisingly modern for a 1970 release.

2. The Hired Hand (1971)

This film offers a rare quiet moment in Western cinema. It follows a drifter named Harry who returns home after years on the run, seeking to reconnect with his family and start anew.

The pace is slow and deliberate, prioritising mood and atmosphere over action, and spends time musing over family dynamics—something that director Peter Fonda proves exemplary at providing.

The Hired Hand explores themes of redemption, belonging, and the quiet desperation of trying to leave behind a violent past. In some ways, it weirdly feels like David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence (2005) set in the West.
It feels more like a poetic Western where the landscape itself looks and feels mournful, and peace seems both needed and yet constantly just out of reach. The film’s strength lies in its understatement and emotional depth, inviting viewers to linger in the moments between the atmospheric ponderings.

Additionally, the film’s use of visual storytelling—lingering shots of barren fields and the slow passage of time—enhances the theme of inevitability. Harry’s struggle isn’t just with external forces but with an internal battle between who he was and who he hopes to become. This reflective, almost meditative tone sets The Hired Hand apart from more action-driven Westerns of its day, making it a unique gem in the genre’s evolving canon.

3. Doc (1971)

Rather than celebrating the myth, Doc delves into the dark, human side of the famous gunslinger Doc Holliday. Frank Perry’s film paints a portrait of a man ravaged by illness and addiction, haunted by his reputation and his failing body.

The film focuses on his complicated relationships, especially with Wyatt Earp (Harris Yulin), and the loneliness that comes with living on the edge of legend. This is a Western stripped of glamour, bravado, and gun-toting showmanship, showing Holliday as vulnerable and flawed; a man grappling with his legacy and mortality.

Doc is a quiet, intimate character study that is a lot better than it’s given credit for and what’s especially compelling about it is its refusal to romanticise the violence that often defines Westerns. Instead, it shows the toll of that violence on the human spirit and body.

The scenes where Doc’s physical weakness contradicts his legendary status offer a raw, comment upon the costs of fame and infamy in the Old West. It’s a film that quietly undermines the heroic narrative, replacing it with painful realism and tragedy.

4. Cry for Me, Billy (1972)

A brutal, melancholy post-Vietnam Western that tackles PTSD very efficiently, William Graham’s film follows Billy, a drifter haunted by war, who crosses paths with a young Native woman escaping from a massacre.

What follows isn’t a romance, or a revenge tale, but a slow spiral toward futility; something that many veterans were going through at the time of the film’s release.

The violence here feels sudden and sickening, and the tone is bleak but purposeful. It’s not pretty, but neither does it pretend to be. Films like this never get canonised —Graham’s film was far too small for any huge cinematic release, but it’s got real power if you’re willing to sit with it. It’s almost like The Hughes Brother’s superb post-Vietnam flick Dead Presidents (1995), but as a Western.

5. The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid (1972)

This film revisits the notorious Jesse James gang but removes the almost mystical legend to reveal desperate men caught in a doomed robbery. Rather than glorifying outlaw life, it shows the toll of desperation, bad choices, and the slow erosion of the old West.

The tension is palpable as the robbery unfolds, but the film’s true focus is on character and consequence—and it would make a rather good companion piece with Andrew Dominik’s The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007).

Philip Kaufman’s film portrays the James gang as deeply human and fallible, far from the romanticised outlaws of folklore—and his grounded approach gives the film a sense of inevitability and tragedy that lingers long after the gunfire fades.

What’s remarkable here is how the film strips away the glamor often attached to Jesse James and his gang, instead presenting them as weary men driven by circumstance and fear. The performances humanise these figures, showing moments of doubt, loyalty, and despair. This treatment of historical figures as complex individuals rather than legends reflects the decade’s desire to re-examine myths and present more nuanced, sometimes uncomfortable truths about America’s past.

The Western wasn’t dead in the 1990s, it was just harder to spot. After the genre’s Golden Age gave way to grittier revisions in the ’60s and ’70s, the ’80s began to taper off, with only occasional standouts. But the ’90s brought a quiet revival: a trickle of Westerns that may not have cracked the mainstream or won Oscars (Unforgiven [1992] aside]) but still offered something vital—fresh angles on classic themes, grounded performances, and unexpected mood. Whether made for TV or lost in the shuffle of bigger box office hits, these ten Westerns from the 1990s are worth dusting off. They prove the frontier never truly closes, it just changes shape.

It was a decade where genre lines blurred, where cowboys met ghosts, widows passed for men, and bounty hunters stumbled on lost tribes. If the golden age gave us lawmen and outlaws, and the revisionist era gave us cynicism and decay, the nineties Western dealt in reinvention.

1. The Wicked (1991)

A strange and sparky little outlier that almost feels like a Western via a horror, The Wicked is not your standard genre fare. Set on a barren, haunted stretch of frontier, it follows a family plagued by supernatural forces and lingering past sins.

While clearly a lower-budget affair, it thrives on atmosphere, with a gnawing sense of dread, that something is always watching. It’s about justice, guilt, and ghosts, with as much psychological tension as physical.

Don’t expect gunfights and saloons, this is a Western that leans into myth and mood, more in the spirit of Dead Man (1995) than something like Tombstone (1993). A slow-burner with bite, something that would resurface in the mainstream with Bone Tomahawk (2015) years later.

There’s a raw, almost handmade quality to it, and its power lies not in spectacle, but in implication. In fact, at times, it feels less like a Western with horror elements and more like a horror wearing a cowboy hat.

2. Conagher (1991)

Adapted from a Louis L’Amour novel and made for television, Conagher stars Sam Elliott as a grizzled, laconic, drifting cowboy who forms a tentative bond with a frontier widow (played by Elliott’s real-life wife, Katharine Ross).

Conagher doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it doesn’t need to, its charm lies in its restraint. This is a Western about loneliness and code, about surviving more than conquering. There is some gunplay, naturally, but it’s the scenes of quiet tension—two people sharing a fire, a letter found wedged in a fencepost that linger.

It’s the kind of film where silence speaks volumes. Elliott’s Conagher is voluble, he’s principled; and in a genre dominated by dominance, there’s something moving in its depiction of emotional struggle, of connection forged not through bravado but patience.

It feels like an old school Western, more intent on feeling and everyday life than pure plot driving action. Earnest, elegant, and deeply rooted in character, Conagher is one of those TV movies that warrants a bigger stage.

3. The Ballad of Little Jo (1993)

Inspired by true events, The Ballad of Little Jo tells the story of a woman (Suzy Amis) who disguises herself as a man to survive in the rough terrain of post-Gold Rush Montana.

It’s a Western filtered through a feminist lens that still feels rare in the genre, and director Maggie Greenwald brings both grit and grace to Jo’s journey, balancing hard-edged realism with moments of touching dialogue.

Amis gives a powerful, understated performance, and the story doesn’t flinch from the brutality of the world Jo must navigate. A haunting, quietly radical entry in a genre that’s long overdue more stories like this one, directed with aplomb by Greenwald. It pre-dates Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog (2021) in its quiet portrayal of the Western space and feels decades ahead of its time. The under-marketed poster and its rather plain title, this is one of the most courageous genre entries of the decade.

4. Silent Tongue (1994)

Written and directed by Sam Shepard, Silent Tongue is like no other Western on this list, part gothic tragedy, part fever dream. River Phoenix plays a grief-stricken young man wandering through a haunted landscape, dragging the corpse of his Native American wife behind him in a coffin.

That synopsis alone sets the tone: this is a story about death, legacy, and spiritual collapse. With performances by Richard Harris and Alan Bates that add intoxicating atmosphere to proceedings, the film feels sometimes feels like it’s come from one of David Lynch’s dreams.

Its strangeness alienated many viewers at the time, but its visual intensity and mythic undertones give it an individual identity. A ghost story dressed in cowboy boots if you will. It might at times be messy and sometimes overwrought, but there’s no mistaking its singular voice.

5. Last of the Dogmen (1995)

There’s an old-school adventure feel to Last of the Dogmen, which imagines a hidden band of Cheyenne who escaped the reservation system and survived in secret.

Tom Berenger plays the bounty hunter who stumbles upon this hidden society deep in the Montana wilderness. Part The Searchers, part lost-world tale, it fuses action with a kind of wistful fantasy. What elevates it, however, is its sincerity and honesty that drives a line through proceedings.

There’s an earnestness here, a respect for Native traditions that’s not always been present in the genre, especially older entries. The score soars, the landscapes are vast, and Berenger gives a grounded performance that ties it all together.

It might very well play loose and fast with plausibility, but that’s part of the appeal, it’s a Western as a fable, a myth wrapped in melancholy. Barbara Hershey’s anthropologist adds a needed counterbalance, and the films dares to imagine reconciliation instead of conquest. It sometimes feels like a Western about what could have been, instead of what always was, and it’s all the better for it.

The 1980s are often remembered for their brashness, big action, bigger hair-Arnold Schwarzenegger shooting people. But away from the glitz and gloss of the box office juggernauts, American cinema was producing a fascinating range of more grounded, often daring films, works that explored character, politics, and social unrest with grit and nuance.

These films may have flown under the radar at the time, or been overshadowed by louder competition, but they’ve quietly aged into cinematic documents that are deserving of a reappraisal. Here are 10 underrated American classics from the 1980s that you might not have seen.

1. Nighthawks (1981)

Sylvester Stallone may be best remembered for Rocky and Rambo, but Nighthawks offered something far more interesting, an urban thriller with a European edge.

Stallone plays Deke DaSilva, a New York cop tasked with tracking down a ruthless international terrorist (played rather chillingly by Rutger Hauer in his first American role). Fascinatingly, Nighthawks was originally conceived as The French Connection III, but when Gene Hackman was reluctant to reprise the role of Popeye Doyle, Bruce Malmuth’s film became something else.

Stallone, sporting a beard that looks like he’s come straight from the set of Serpico (1973), delivers one of his more nuanced performances, and the film leans into the paranoia and murk of early 1980s Manhattan. Stylish, tense, and at times surprisingly thoughtful, it’s another of Stallone’s most underrated outings, culminating in a tense finale in a cable car no less.

2. Outland (1981)

Outland sometimes feels like High Noon (1952) in space. It’s a sci-fi Western that swaps spurs for spacesuits and casts Sean Connery as a beleaguered marshal facing down corporate corruption in a remote mining colony.

The film’s production design is deeply atmospheric—grimy corridors, flickering monitors, and a constant sense of isolation—recalling Ridley Scott’s Alien that had emerged just two years previously.

Jerry Goldsmith’s score adds to the tension, and Connery anchors what is essentially a space-age morality play, and while Outland may have been overshadowed by flashier sci-fi films of the era, it’s a tightly wound thriller with a surprisingly timely message about profit vs people, and was very much a touching point for Fede Alvarez’s Alien: Romulus (2024).

3. Variety (1983)

Bette Gordon’s Variety is a strange yet vital feminist psychological noir that blends voyeurism, sexuality, and urban decay to form something quite unique. Sandy McLeod plays Christine, a woman who takes a job selling tickets at a Times Square porn theatre and slowly becomes obsessed with one of the patrons.

Shot with downtown New York grit and scored by John Lurie, the film feels like a hybrid of Taxi Driver (1976) and Jeanne Dielman (1975) by way of Hardcore (1979) but through a uniquely female lens.

Variety is less concerned with plot than mood, but its influence on later indie and art house films, as well as the impact on future female film makers like Jane Campion and Claire Denis, is undeniable.

Gordon’s film remains a fascinating curio of the early ’80s underground scene and deserves to be seen by a much wider audience.

4. Tightrope (1984)

Clint Eastwood starring in a sex thriller might sound like parody, but Tightrope is a much more hardened and bleak film then it’s given credit for and provides a much more prescient touchpoint over forty years on.

Eastwood plays a New Orleans detective tracking a serial killer who preys on sex workers—but as the investigation progresses, he finds himself drawn into the same underworld as the killer.

The line between hunter and hunted becomes uncomfortably blurred, and whilst you might immediately think of William Friedkin’s Cruising (1980), Tightrope holds its own in dealing with difficult subject matter, at a time when it perhaps wasn’t at the forefront of mainstream media.

Eastwood is at his most vulnerable here, playing a man wrestling with his own impulses, and the film—directed by Richard Tuggle but heavily shaped by Eastwood himself—feels like a deep dive into toxic masculinity long before that term was even coined. Sleazy, stylish, and far more psychologically probing than anyone might expect.

5. The Mission (1986)

Though remembered as a British production, The Mission was largely financed and distributed through Warner Bros., with Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons anchoring this sweeping, morally complex tale set in 18th-century South America.

Roland Joffé’s film examines colonialism, faith, and redemption, set against one of the most breathtaking scores ever written (Ennio Morricone in divine form). De Niro plays a mercenary seeking penance, while Irons is the Jesuit priest caught between religion and politics, thematically and spiritually it shares much with Martin Scorsese’s passion project Silence (2016).

The Mission won the Palme d’Or but was bizarrely snubbed at the Oscars and has since very much taken a back seat when people discuss classics of the era. Despite its epic scale, The Mission remains a quiet, intimate film about belief and sacrifice, and without doubt needs a re-release on the big screen.

When the general public talk about the Western genre in the 2010s, they tend to focus on the obvious titles as you’d expect: The Hateful Eight (2015), True Grit (2010), Django Unchained (2012). Big names, big budgets, big violence. But beneath that glossy surface was a quieter current of Westerns that didn’t play to packed theatres or spark heated Oscars talk, films that had just as much to say, and often said it with more nuance or style.

These are the outliers, the genre-benders, the rough-edged passion projects. Here are 10 underrated Westerns from the 2010s that deserve another look.

1. Red Hill (2010)

Patrick Hughes-who’d admittedly later go on to make The Expendables 3 (2014)-began with something far leaner and sharper in Red Hill, a modern-day Australian Western with a pulpy, retro edge. A young city cop (Ryan Kwanten) moves to a remote rural town expecting a quieter life, only to find himself in the middle of a long-buried feud when a convict escapes and heads back to town for revenge.

Sure, it sounds like the set-up we’ve seen time and again. The beauty of Red Hill however, is in its exemplary pacing and tone: it plays like a ‘70s revenge thriller crossed with a gothic fable, the kind of movie that feels like it should be pulpy nonsense but ends up unsettling and oddly poetic.

Shot against harsh landscapes and dripping with tension, it’s a story of justice warped into something monstrous. It might sound like a poor man’s Bone Tomahawk (2015) from that description- and no, it’s not in the same league, but this not quite revisionist, not quite neo-Western, is as just cold-blooded and cool.

2. Let the Bullets Fly (2010)

Is it a Western? Is it a satire? Is it an operatic Chinese gangster movie in a cowboy hat? Yes, all of it. Let the Bullets Fly is a deliriously sharp, subversive Chinese Western from director-actor Jiang Wen that frequently feels like Sergio Leone by way of the Coen Brothers.

Set in 1920s China, it follows a bandit posing as a governor, a corrupt local tyrant (played with glee by Chow Yun-fat), and a town caught in the middle of their escalating war of words and bullets. But it’s not just shootouts, it’s also class commentary delivered at a hundred miles an hour.

The Western elements are largely aesthetic, dusty towns, corrupt officials, lawless land, but they fuse superbly with the more theatrical Chinese stylings to quite thrilling effect.

It’s smart, stylish, and often hilarious, and while it was a huge hit in China, it remains hugely underseen in the West. An absolute gem for anyone who enjoys their Westerns with verbal duels as thrilling as the gunfights and has seen Tarantino’s filmography several times over.

3. Dead Man’s Burden (2012)

Jared Moshe’s Dead Man’s Burden is a taut, melancholy Western set in post-Civil War New Mexico, where a brother and sister are reunited under fraught and delicate circumstances. The film is spare and modest, limited locations, small cast, but it leans into those limits with great effect, unfolding like a chamber piece about loyalty, betrayal, and the ghosts of American history. You’re somehow reminded of Kelly Reichhardt’s Meek’s Cutoff (2010) with the minimalist nature of Moshe’s output.

The performances, especially Clare Bowen as Martha, are textured and fragile, and the cinematography captures the land as a harsh, dwindling inheritance. This is slow-burn territory, but if you’re willing to sit with it, the emotional payoff is sharp and remains a film that deserved a much wider audience.

4. Gold (2013)

Possibly the strangest Western on this list, Gold is a German production that drags its characters, and viewers, through the unforgiving landscapes of British Columbia in 1898.

A group of German immigrants chase gold rush dreams through unknown territory, and the film, directed by Thomas Arslan, is less interested in action than in endurance.

It’s as if Werner Herzog delivered Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972), but with cowboys and packhorses. Nina Hoss leads the cast with stoic brilliance as a woman forced to reckon with the limits of truth, and the pacing is deliberately glacial- and that’s the point, the film is about isolation and disillusionment, pulling you into its world and making you feel its every struggle.

Gold may take its time but there’s a creeping sense of menace and futility that you can’t seem to shake. You might begin watching with thoughts of one thing, but Thomas Arslan’s film becomes an impressive endurance test, one that keeps you gripped for its haunting duration.

5. The Keeping Room (2014)

The Keeping Room is a Civil War-set chamber Western that strips back the genre’s masculine mythology and re-frames it through something quieter, angrier, and far more intimate.

Directed by Daniel Barber and written by Julia Hart, it follows three women, two sisters and a former slave, trying to survive after Union soldiers lay waste to the South. What starts as a war-survival drama morphs into something tenser, more psychological, and politically potent.

Brit Marling, Hailee Steinfeld (previously best known for her performance in another western; 2010’s True Grit), and Muna Otaru form an effective and uneasy triangle of agency, rage, and trauma. The violence, when it comes, is brutal, not stylised, but sickening, and the film’s tension builds not just from external threat, but internal turmoil. It’s a Western that’s stripped down to its bones and is all the more impressive for it.

From the shadows of post-war noir to the neon-slick thrillers of the late 20th century, the thriller genre has always been a haven for moral ambiguity, paranoia, and at times shocking violence. But while certain classics have been elevated to near-mythic status, others, just as taut, stylish, and thematically rich, have been relegated to the side-lines.

In this piece, we journey from the 1940s through to the early ’90s, spotlighting ten thrillers that never quite received the acclaim they deserved.

1. Saboteur (1942)

A lesser-seen Hitchcock entry, Saboteur feels like the spiritual blueprint for North by Northwest (1959), only more ragged, more urgent, and arguably more politically charged. Robert Cummings stars as an aircraft factory worker wrongfully accused of sabotage, who finds himself on the run and tangled in a vast conspiracy that stretches across the United States.

Saboteur captures the fear of the early forties; there was a war dominating the world stage, and Hitchcock manages to almost pre-empt the feel of a cold war thriller to some extent.

While Hitchcock would refine many of the same ideas in later films, Saboteur still holds up impressively, complete with a now-iconic showdown atop the Statue of Liberty. The film dazzles in its depiction of wartime paranoia and the creeping threat of fascism on American soil, and for fans of Hitchcock’s more polished works, this rougher, often dismissed masterstroke is a must-watch.

2. Detour (1945)

Detour is the very definition of a stripped-back noir. This extremely well cobbled together film is just sixty eight minutes long (with footage still lost to us) but it is wonderful for every minute of its running time.

Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, the film follows Al Roberts (Tom Neal), a down-and-out pianist hitchhiking to California to reunite with his girlfriend, only to fall into a nightmarish chain of events involving death, deception, and a spectacularly venomous femme fatale. Ann Savage is unforgettable as Vera, ensuring Detour’s fatalism borders on existential horror, this is noir in its purest form, where fate is indifferent and morality is left by the side of the road.

Ulmer’s film is a wonderful reminder of the noirs of the thirties and forties; it has shades of Hitchcock and Fritz Lang, the performances are terrific and it’s a bit of a (literally) lost gem. Now only generally discussed in cult circles, Detour’s recent Blu-ray release will hopefully provide the love it deserves, it’s a masterclass in doing a lot with very, very little.

3. Rififi (1955)

Arguably the pinnacle of the heist genre, Jules Dassin’s wonderful French thriller is without doubt one of the most influential films of all time.

If you’ve seen Reservoir Dogs (1992) or Heat (1995), you’ve seen the fingerprints of Dassin’s film; a French crime thriller made by an American director exiled during the McCarthy era, it follows a group of ageing crooks planning one last, perfectly orchestrated jewellery heist.

The film is anchored by an astonishing central heist sequence. Shot in near silence with almost no dialogue or music, the intricacy of the scene is almost unbearably tense; and it’s a huge credit to a film that is seventy years old that it remains just as nail-biting today.

But Rififi is more than just a heist, it’s a story about honour among thieves, regret, and the slow rot of criminal life. Dassin paints a smoky, rain-slicked Paris full of shadowy alleyways and moral grey zones, and it’s not hard to see why this became the template for so many heist films to come.

4. Harper (1966)

Coming a few years before the better-known Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), Paul Newman takes on the role of Lew Harper, a private eye hired to find the whereabouts of Elaine Sampson’s (Lauren Bacall) husband, who has disappeared.

Harper is a detective story in the classic mold, and you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s is a Raymond Chandler or Elmore Leonard adaptation; there are hints of The Big Sleep (1946) as well as The Maltese Falcon (1941), ostensibly you could place Humphrey Bogart in the title role and things would be just dandy.

However, despite the fact Newman’s ability to appear effortlessly cool throughout the picture is almost to be expected, what is impressive is the real humanity he brings to the character, his love for his wife, and how desperate he is to change her mind at their seemingly impending divorce, whilst also coping with the case in front of him.

Jack Smight’s film has been accused of being particularly ponderous, but quite the opposite is true; Harper is constantly engaging, frequently funny, and despite the fact that you can guess how it all ends fairly early on, the film holds your attention in its characters and locations during a tremendously enjoyable couple of hours.

5. Targets (1968)

Peter Bogdanovich’s Targets is one of the most unique and unsettling thrillers of the 1960s. It tells two parallel stories—one of an ageing horror movie actor (played by Boris Karloff in a haunting, semi-autobiographical role), the other of a seemingly average American man who suddenly embarks on a killing spree.

Set against the backdrop of late-60s cultural turmoil, the film is a startling comment on violence in modern America, juxtaposing the old-fashioned terror of the horror film with the all-too-real horror of senseless gun violence. Tim O’Kelly is especially calm and collected as he guns down innocents, addressing the task as if it’s nothing more than a daily chore, and not a taxing one at that- it’s productively chilling.

The final act, set in a drive-in cinema, is a masterpiece of tension, and a truly fitting culmination of what has come before. Targets is eerie, elegiac, and way ahead of its time.

The Western has never truly died, despite its lack of recent multiplex outings, or simply people just not going to watch them (Horizon: An American Saga Chapter One [2024]). It simply drifts in and out of fashion, resurfacing when the cultural moment needs it most.

While everyone remembers the towering peaks, The Searchers (1956), Once Upon a Time in the West (1968), Unforgiven (1992), some of the genre’s most compelling entries are often left behind.

This list looks at ten underrated Western classics, from studio-era oaters to revisionist outliers, international hybrids, and modern offerings. Each film here offers a distinct take on the frontier myth, reminding us why the Western remains one of cinema’s most enduring forms.

1. Frontier Marshal (1939)

Before My Darling Clementine (1946) or Tombstone, the Town too Tough to Die (1942), there was Frontier Marshal, an early screen take on the Wyatt Earp legend, that has since seen many a big screen adaptation.

This lean, hard-nosed B-western directed by Allan Dwan strips the tale down to its barest bones, giving it a kind of early-noir edge. Randolph Scott plays Earp, with the film focusing more on tension and atmosphere than on shootouts or sieges.

Despite the fact it may lack the epic weight of later Earp retellings, Frontier Marshall’s brisk pacing and scratchy tone lay the groundwork for more well rounded psychological Westerns that would follow.

2. The Ox-Bow Incident (1943)

William Wellman’s grim morality tale is more a courtroom drama in the wilderness than a full on Western romp, but is all the more compelling for it. It stars Henry Fonda in a quietly powerful role as one of several townspeople caught in a lynch mob frenzy.

When three men are wrongly accused of cattle rustling, the town’s thirst for justice spirals into something far more terrifying. The Ox-Bow Incident is dialogue-driven, and deeply unsettling, a kind of Western 12 Angry Men (1957) if you like, with rifles and rope.

Its relevance in terms of morality and burred lines of justice has only deepened over time, and the questions it raises about mob mentality, complicity, and lawlessness feel bizarrely prescient today. Wellman’s film stays with you and remains an important document in the genre.

3. Tall in the Saddle (1944)

On the surface, this might seem like simply another Western fronted by John Wayne, but Tall in the Saddle reveals itself to be a sharply written, surprisingly progressive Western with a real sense of humour.

Wayne plays a drifting cowboy who arrives in a town mired in corruption (no surprise there), but the real star of the show is Ella Raines as the tough, independent ranch owner who more than holds her own against him. Their dynamic drives the film as they clash but ultimately find mutual respect; sidestepping the usual damsel tropes.

Director Edwin L. Marin blends mystery and action with impressive character work, resulting in a film that might not reinvent the Western wheel, but is deserving of a place in a higher league than it’s arguably placed in.

4. One-Eyed Jacks (1961)

Marlon Brando’s only directorial effort is a glorious, messy, mythic fever dream of a Western, part Greek tragedy, part revenge melodrama, all filtered through Brando’s tortured romanticism.

The story follows Rio (Brando), a bank robber betrayed by his partner (Karl Malden), who becomes a corrupt sheriff. What begins as a straightforward tale of vengeance unfurls into something far more epic and psychologically driven.

One-Eyed Jacks pre-empts films like The Wild Bunch (1969) and McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971), and frequently feels like one of a kind. Brando’s performance is superb, the pacing is pitch perfect, and the emotional undercurrents bristle beneath the surface; far from being Brando’s footnote, his only directorial feature might well be one of the finest things he’s ever been a part of.

5. Hud (1963)

Not a traditional Western by any stretch, Hud is set in contemporary Texas, but its bleak, rugged, and morally ambiguous core leave it well placed in terms of genre cliches.

Paul Newman plays the title character, a selfish, swaggering antihero whose charisma and self-confidence masks a rather hollow core. The direction is sharp, and James Wong Howe’s Oscar-winning black-and-white cinematography captures the desolation of the American West like few films before (or arguably after).

At its heart, Hud is about generational conflict, old values, and failing new ones. It’s a Western bereft of romance, where cows are destroyed due to disease and men destroy themselves out of spite. Powerful, unsentimental, and quietly devastating; Hud might contain the suave and style of Newman, but it’s far cry from the slick untouchable presence we’re used to.

When people think of American cinema in the 1990s, it’s somewhat understandable they’d immediately leap for the big hitters: Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, The Shawshank Redemption, Titanic.

It was a decade stuffed with memorable titles, major box office hauls, and the indie boom fueled by Sundance and Miramax. But the decade’s cultural behemoths have sometimes overshadowed a rich selection of films that haven’t lingered in the mainstream conversation in the same way.

These are the movies that were either misunderstood, overlooked, or simply swamped by noisier competition at the time. Some were box office disappointments that deserved better; others were always destined for cult status. But all of them are very much worth revisiting, or discovering for the first time.

1. Internal Affairs (1990)

Richard Gere rarely gets enough credit as a villain, but he is superbly slimy in Internal Affairs, playing Dennis Peck, a corrupt LAPD officer whose slick exterior masks a rot that spreads far and wide. Andy Garcia, doing some of his best work, plays the righteous Internal Affairs agent who starts to unravel Peck’s criminal empire.

Director Mike Figgis (who went on to helm the Oscar winning Leaving Las Vegas in 1995) keeps the tension bubbling beneath the surface, allowing for a more psychological and insidious cop drama. It’s a film that exudes masculine insecurity, and the power dynamics shift with every scene, with Gere at the absolute top of his game.

It’s no surprise that The Departed (2006, itself a remake of the 2002 Hong Kong masterpiece Infernal Affairs) borrowed some of its tonal cues from Figgis’ film, Internal Affairs keeps you unbalanced all the way to the end.

2. Catchfire (1990)

Also known by its director’s pseudonym Alan Smithee (Dennis Hopper disowned the final cut), Catchfire is one of those notorious production disasters that hides a surprisingly compelling little noir inside. Jodie Foster plays Anne, an artist who witnesses a mafia hit and goes on the run, only to fall into the orbit of a mysterious recluse (Hopper) who may or may not be her salvation.

The film is rough around the edges, with a kind of erotic tension that feels very of its era, but Foster grounds it in something real, and there’s a fractured, offbeat energy to it that’s oddly compelling. Catchfire was understandably lost in the dust that was left by another Foster film, 1988’s gripping and harrowing The Accused; but despite its checkered history, Catchfire (especially in its longer director’s cut, ‘Backtrack’ which restores Hopper’s name to the credits) is well worth a look.

3. Alive (1993)

Based on the true story of the 1972 Andes plane crash, Alive didn’t exactly bomb, but it’s rarely talked about in the same breath as other survival films. Directed by Frank Marshall and featuring a young Ethan Hawke, it’s a harrowing tale of endurance, community, and of course, cannibalism.

There’s a reverence to Alive, a refusal to sensationalise the grislier aspects of the story. It’s a film about moral compromise and the instinct to live, and it handles its subject with admirable restraint.

Marshall’s film feels especially forgotten in the wake of J.A. Bayona’s sensational portrayal of the same story in 2023’s Society of the Snow; but Alive offers us a bold and daring adaptation of what is truly one of the most astonishing tales of survival in human history, and despite the admitted brilliance of Bayona’s film, Alive is a far better and more thoughtful film than it’s perhaps given credit for.

4. Kalifornia (1993)

Part road movie, part serial killer thriller, Kalifornia is an unnerving descent into America’s underbelly. David Duchovny and Michelle Forbes play a young couple touring famous murder sites for a book, only to pick up a hitchhiker (Brad Pitt) and his girlfriend (Juliette Lewis) who may embody the very material they’re trying to study.

Pitt is sensational as the charming, feral killer, and the film becomes a slow motion exercise in dread as the characters spiral toward inevitable disaster. Thematically it shares elements (and the presence of Lewis) with Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers which came a year later, but is a more serious affair; lacking a story written by Quentin Tarantino actually works in Kalifornia’s favour.

Dominic Sena’s film is gritty, disturbing, and full of dark irony, and although it made no sort of commercial splash on its release whatsoever, it holds up now as one of the most offbeat and effective thrillers of the ’90s.

5. Quiz Show (1994)

Robert Redford’s sharp, elegant drama about the 1950s quiz show scandal is one of the decade’s most intelligent films, and it has aged beautifully. Ralph Fiennes plays Charles Van Doren, a handsome, privileged intellectual who becomes the face of a rigged game show, while John Turturro is equally excellent as the more harsh, working-class contestant, who gets cast aside in favour of better ratings.

Quiz Show, as you might expect, deals with ethics, media manipulation, and the dangerous appeal of fame, all presented through a cinematic prism that doesn’t curtail to Oscar baiting scene stealing; although it was correctly nominated for Best Picture, losing in a crowded field that included Forrest Gump, Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption (all 1994).

Maybe that’s part of the reason that Quiz Show falls through the cracks somewhat when the subject of 90’s classics comes up, but don’t let that stop you giving it a watch if you haven’t already.

The 1990s are often remembered for their glossy studio blockbusters, the rise of CGI, and the loss to a certain extent of indie releases in the multiplexes. But beneath the surface of the decade’s more popcorn entertainment offerings, a different kind of thriller appeared—moody, character-driven stories that flirted with noir, moral torment, and narcissistic power dynamics.

These were films that didn’t necessarily make a splash at the box office but have aged remarkably well; stories that swapped explosions for atmosphere, and spectacle for slow-burn tension. In this article, we dive into some of the most overlooked thrillers of the ’90s—films that didn’t always get their due, but still simmer with style, suspense, and unforgettable characters.

1. The Hot Spot (1990)

Dennis Hopper’s neo-noir opens in a haze of desert heat and tension, not least because it stars Miami Vice (1984-1990) heartthrob Don Johnson as Harry Madox in the lead role, a drifter who lands a job in a sleepy Texas town and quickly gets tangled up with not one but two dangerously alluring women.

Virginia Madsen is on excellent form as a seductive femme fatale, while Jennifer Connelly brings a vulnerability to her role that complicates the film’s pulpy love triangle, and subsequently offers one her career best performances.

There’s a languid, dreamlike quality to The Hot Spot, cemented by Jack Nitzsche’s jazzy score and Ueli Steiger’s sun-beating cinematography. Hopper provides us with a real classic noir feel, and the film is a slow burner with a thoroughly effective small-town claustrophobic feel to it, and has been compared by some to the work of David Lynch. At times, it feels a little like Twin Peaks (1990-2017) in the sun, by way of something like Detour (1945).

The Hot Spot contains themes of temptation, duplicity, and narcissism, and is a violent thriller that offers little hope for any of its characters. But don’t let that put you off, it’s a criminally under-seen film that has only recently seen the light of day on Blu-Ray.

2. State of Grace (1990)

Released the same year as Goodfellas, Phil Joanou’s State of Grace was instantly overshadowed as you’d probably expect—but it absolutely deserves mention in the same conversation, if perhaps not the same sentence. Set in a pre-gentrified Hell’s Kitchen, the film follows Terry (Sean Penn), an undercover cop who infiltrates a gang run by childhood friend Jackie (a gloriously unhinged Gary Oldman) and Jackie’s older brother Frankie (Ed Harris).

State of Grace is a story about loyalty and identity, about how the past never really lets you go, themes that have of course been explored to death within the gangster genre, but Penn brings real authenticity in the lead role—quietly torn, permanently out of step—while Oldman delivers one of his most electric performances, full of dangerous charisma and unpredictable rage; it reminds you of his insane cameo in True Romance (1993) to an extent.

There’s a tragic inevitability to the whole affair, but Joanou offers enough beauty and purity amongst the grime ridden back streets to really make you care. It’s a modern noir soaked in booze, blood, and Catholic guilt, and whilst it doesn’t perhaps merit a seat at the top table, State of Grace’s banishment to the bargain bin does it a huge disservice.

3. Bad Influence (1990)

A young Rob Lowe and an even younger James Spader team up for this slick psychological thriller about identity and manipulation, slotting nicely into the erotic thriller genre that was thriving at the turn of the decade.

Directed by Curtis Hanson—seven years before his magnum opus L.A. Confidential—Bad Influence reminds you of similar films released at the time, sure, but it’s two main leads offer such terrific performances that it well and truly drags it from the bloated straight to DVD sub-genre that the erotic thriller had become; not to be critically reborn arguably until Basic Instinct (1992).

Spader is Michael, a mild-mannered financial analyst whose life is upended when he meets the seeming enigma that is Alex (Lowe), a charming stranger who helps him break free from his dull existence. But freedom comes at a cost, and before long, Michael is pulled into a world of blackmail, drugs, and violence.

It might sound like another adaptation of a J.G Ballard novel at this point (not only because Spader went on to star in David Cronenberg’s Crash [1996]) but Hansen steps away from out and out erotica, replacing it with psychological seduction, resulting in a far more intriguing affair than most have given it credit for.

In a time when toxic masculinity is a subject hot on the lips of mainstream media, Bad Influence is a document that proves it’s not a new topic of conversation, but weaves an exciting and exhilarating fictional tale of the dystopian world of the elite, a full decade before we saw Brett Easton Ellis’ American Psycho put to screen.

4. Deep Cover (1992)

Bill Duke’s Deep Cover is one of the most stylish and politically charged thrillers of the nineties. Laurence Fishburne (recently on our screens in The Amateur) plays Russell Stevens, an undercover cop recruited by the DEA to infiltrate a drug operation in Los Angeles—but the deeper he gets, the harder it becomes to tell where the mask ends, and the man begins.

Values and integrity are topics that go with undercover cop thrillers like bread and butter but Deep Cover packs them into a Venn diagram that’s impossible to read, such are the blurred lines. The film is also steeped in a neon sheen, shot mostly at night (falling in line with the hours that Stevens is forced to keep) meaning that when the neon hits, it draws you even further into the shadowy underbelly of L.A.

The film, as you’d probably expect, grapples with race, corruption, and morality, as well as featuring a rather terrific performance from Jeff Goldblum as L.A’s biggest drug dealer. Although the story itself might seem overly familiar and well-trodden content, Deep Cover has only been widely available in the last couple of years, and Bill Duke’s fantastic undercover cop thriller deserves to be seen by a much wider audience.

5. Light Sleeper (1992)

Paul Schrader has dealt with lonely men wandering city streets in search of redemption or ruin before, he wrote Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976) and directed 1979’s Hardcore. Light Sleeper might be his most underappreciated riff on that theme.

Willem Dafoe plays John LeTour, a high-end drug courier drifting through life, dreaming of past relationships and going nowhere fast; and this is compounded when he runs into his ex-wife (Dana Delaney).

The plot, in typical Schrader fashion, is minimal—but New York is a big brooding character in itself, captured in a state of cold decay, shot with a ghostly blue/grey colour palette (reminiscent of Schrader’s American Gigolo [1980]) connoting the deathly feel of LeTour’s situation.

Dafoe is exceptional, as always, his quiet desperation driving the film as he struggles to find a foothold on his own life as he spirals into an ever-expanding void.

The 1970s was a turning point for the Western. While the genre was no longer the box office powerhouse it had been in previous decades, filmmakers were pushing boundaries, experimenting with style, and reinterpreting familiar tropes.

The decade saw revisionist Westerns as well as Spaghetti Westerns continuing to deliver operatic gunfights, and even genre hybrids bringing fresh ideas into play. While many classics have rightly received their due, plenty of great Westerns from the era have been overlooked. Here are ten that you might have missed.

1. Rio Lobo (1970)

Howard Hawks’ final film, Rio Lobo, often gets overshadowed by his earlier classics like Red River (1948) and Rio Bravo (1959), but it’s still a solid Western with plenty to offer. Starring John Wayne in one of his late-career roles, the film is essentially a reworking of Rio Bravo, with Wayne once again playing a tough, no-nonsense hero (what else?) leading a ragtag group against corrupt forces.

The story follows Cord McNally (Wayne), a former Union officer hunting down traitors who betrayed his regiment during the Civil War. This search leads him to the town of Rio Lobo, where he teams up with a young gunslinger and a vengeful woman to take on a ruthless sheriff and his cronies.

While Rio Lobo doesn’t break new ground, it’s an enjoyable old-school Western with romping action sequences and a charismatic performance from Wayne. Hawks’ direction, even in his final outing, after a quite staggering career, is confident and assured, delivering a film that, while formulaic, remains a satisfying genre entry. It sometimes feels like a latter-day Clint Eastwood directorial piece, not necessarily his finest work, and yet utterly consistent and replayable.

2. Zabriskie Point (1970)

While perhaps not a Western in the traditional sense, Zabriskie Point captures the spirit of the genre in a radical, counter-cultural fashion. Michelangelo Antonioni’s take on America is a visually stunning meditation on rebellion, capitalism, and the open landscape of the West.

The film follows a young man who, after a student protest turns violent, steals a small plane and flies out into the desert, where he meets a free-spirited woman. Their brief romance unfolds against the vast emptiness of Death Valley and the exoticism of Antonioni’s style is almost inevitably accompanied by dreamlike visuals.

For those expecting a conventional narrative, Zabriskie Point can be frustrating—it’s more about mood, imagery, and political subtext than storytelling. And indeed, there are many critics who have repeatedly piled in on the film over the years, but its haunting final sequence, featuring a slow-motion explosion set to Pink Floyd’s music, is one of the most striking endings in any film, let alone a Western-adjacent one. Zabriskie Point isn’t for everyone, but like it or not, it remains a film that demands a conversation more than fifty years on.

3. El Topo (1970)

Alejandro Jodorowsky’s El Topo is about as far from your average Western as you can possibly get. A surreal, mystic journey through the desert, the film blends Spaghetti Western tropes with philosophy, religious allegory, and a heavy dose of psychedelia. An Acid-Western, if you like.

Jodorowsky himself plays the titular gunslinger, who embarks on a spiritual quest, battling a series of master gunfighters before undergoing a profound transformation. The film is packed with bizarre, violent, and often disturbing imagery, but beneath its madness is a deeply philosophical core.

A key film in the ‘midnight movie’ movement, El Topo, like much of Jodorowsky’s work, has become a cult sensation, drawing praise from figures like John Lennon. Its influence can be felt in everything from Mad Max to The Mandalorian; yet it remains detached from mainstream cinema. This might well be understandable, but El Topo (despite its numerous controversies) is arguably Jodorowsky’s most accessible film, if only for its obvious Western influences.

4. The Last Movie (1971)

The more well-known Easy Rider (1969) might itself be considered a reinterpretation of the Western, but too few people dipped their toes into Dennis Hopper’s cinematic return, 1971’s The Last Movie, a film that pushed the boundaries of cinema and ultimately alienated audiences and critics alike.

A meta-Western about filmmaking itself, it tells the story of a stuntman (Hopper) working on a Western in Peru, who stays behind after production wraps and becomes entangled with the locals in what becomes an increasingly bizarre and voodoo inflicted piece.

The Last Movie critiques Hollywood’s myth-making, upending potential genre cliches completely while blurring the lines between fiction and reality. Its unconventional structure and experimental style might well make it a challenging watch, but The Last Movie is a fascinating relic of 70s counterculture, offering a raw, hallucinatory take on a field of cinema that surprised its audiences at the time, and continues to be divisive today.

5. Red Sun (1971)

One of the strangest yet most entertaining Westerns of the decade, Red Sun is a genre mash-up that brings together samurai and cowboys in a way that shouldn’t work, but somehow does. Directed by Terence Young, who also directed three Bond films in the 60’s, the film stars Charles Bronson, Alain Delon, and Toshiro Mifune—without doubt one of the most impressive international casts ever assembled for a Western.

Bronson plays an outlaw, Link, who is double-crossed by his partner Gauche (Delon) during a train robbery. In the process, a priceless samurai sword is stolen, leading Mifune’s Kuroda to join forces with Bronson in pursuit of the thief. What follows is a madcap and truly unique East-meets-West revenge tale filled with blistering action, betrayal and a huge slice of dry humour; a tone that was perhaps the reason it was dismissed too easily on its release. Red Sun is self-aware as well as being a bombastic alternate Western and deserves a moment in the sun. Ahem.

The Western genre has been integral to cinema since its early days, with its iconic imagery of vast, open landscapes, shootouts at high noon, and larger-than-life characters. However, for every The Searchers (1956) or Unforgiven (1992), there are lesser-known gems that quietly go unnoticed but deserve to be discovered. Although these films may never have found the right audience or have somehow fallen by the wayside, these films stand as testaments to the versatility and enduring appeal of the genre.

This collection of Westerns—five pre-1970 and five post—shows the breadth of the genre’s emotional and thematic reach and proves that there’s far more to the Western than just cowboy standoffs.

1. Western Union (1941)

Directed by Fritz Lang, Western Union is a beautifully crafted, though often overlooked Western that strays from the expected frontier clichés. Although perhaps more well known for his German expressionist masterpieces Metropolis (1927) and M (1931) amongst others, Western Union proves that Lang had even more strings to his bow than you may have thought.

It’s not a film that would typically come to mind when thinking of classic Westerns, but it strikes a fascinating balance between the traditional and the modern, reflecting the shift in American society at the time.

Western Union sees the legendary Randolph Scott playing Vance Shaw, a reformed outlaw enlisted to help build the telegraph line across the American frontier. Lang brings a nuanced and somewhat noirish sensibility to the Western, perhaps unsurprising when you consider his more well known output, and the moral dilemmas faced by Shaw are more complex than the usual battle between good and evil, especially as he grapples with his past as an outlaw while working for a cause that represents the future.

There are also subtle nods to works like Metropolis with Western Union addressing themes of progress and technology, and Lang’s trademark visual style—the striking use of shadows, light, and framing—adds an almost existential weight to the proceedings. The expansive American landscape is shot in vivid colour, and at a time when the world was still very much coming to terms with that cinematic medium. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Lang was at the forefront of such a work, it’s just a shame it’s not held up in as high regard as some of his other films.

2. Canyon Passage (1946)

Jacques Tourneur is best known for his work in the horror genre, particularly Cat People (1942) and Out of the Past (1947), but Canyon Passage demonstrates his ability to weave psychological complexity into the Western genre.
Set in 1850s Oregon, the film tells the story of Logan Stuart (a terrific Dana Andrews), a freight company owner whose romantic escapades and involvement in the local politics of a frontier town pull him into a web of intrigue and danger.

What makes Canyon Passage unique is the way it focuses on the emotional and psychological lives of its characters and doesn’t simply shower the audience in shootouts or overblown set pieces. Tourneur digs deeper into the complexities of human relationships and the way the frontier shaped the people who lived within it. Logan’s inner demons frequently become the center of the piece as he grapples with his own choices whilst struggling with the various mishaps that he’s become a part of.

The sweeping vistas of the Oregon wilderness are as much a part of the story as the characters themselves, creating an atmosphere that is at once captivating and melancholic. Canyon Passage is an intelligent, emotionally layered Western that has often been overlooked but remains an essential part of the genre’s history, also skilfully threading political elements into its brief, yet effective, run time.

3. Rawhide (1951)

At first glance, Rawhide might seem like just another 1950s Western, but it stands out for its taut, almost noir-like structure and its focus on human psychology under pressure. The film takes place at a remote stagecoach relay station, where Tyrone Power plays the station master, and Susan Hayward portrays a traveller caught up in the tension when a gang of escaped convicts takes over the station.

It’s not the first or last time we see a siege in a Western, but Rawhide’s drama unfolds in its dialogue and moral indistinctness, with the claustrophobic set up forcing characters to us their brains rather than brawn to somehow detach themselves from the horror unfolding.

Hayward’s performance especially is terrific—her portrayal of a woman who must quickly adapt to a dire situation is both strong and nuanced. She is more than just a damsel in distress; instead, she’s a fully realised character who forces the men around her to rethink their roles in this tense drama, arguably not something we’re accustomed to from the era.

Rawhide may not break new ground in the genre, but it executes its simple premise with exceptional skill, drawing viewers into its intense, claustrophobic atmosphere, and laid down a marker for things to come.

4. The Hanging Tree (1959)

Robert Wise and Delmer Davis’ film is a rare beast within the genre in that it lingers long after the credits role. On the surface it qualifies as a Western for sure; there’s a gold rush town, saloons, naturally a gunslinger or two, but The Hanging Tree has plenty to discover beneath its seemingly standard surface.

Cooper plays Dr. Joseph Frail, a haunted physician who arrives in a rough Montana gold camp with a gun, a past, and a rigid moral code. When he saves a young man (Ben Piazza) from a mob, and takes in a wounded woman (Maria Schell), his self-imposed exile begins to crack.

The script (co-written by the infamous, and at the time blacklisted, Dalton Trumbo, under a pseudonym) is deceptively tight, slow-burning, and weirdly psychological. There’s a gothic-like undercurrent running through the film—jealousy, obsession, control—and the tone never quite lets you relax. It’s a Western but one that’s frequently at odds with its own classic genre.

The Hanging Tree is underseen, underrated—and at times, kind of brilliant.

5. The Great Silence (1968)

Arguably one of the most radical and bleak Westerns ever made, The Great Silence (1968) is a masterpiece of nihilism and despair. Directed by Sergio Corbucci, this film features Jean-Louis Trintignant as a mute gunslinger who must face off against a sadistic bounty hunter played by Klaus Kinski, and thankfully Werner Herzog is nowhere in sight.

Set in a snow-covered frontier town, the film emits a coldness that permeates not just the landscape but the hearts of its characters. Trintignant’s character is more ambiguous—silent, withdrawn, and marked by a tragic past. The Great Silence is well titled, dealing in themes of isolation, moral torpor and leading to the ultimate subversion of the classic Western ending, revolutionary for its time, and a comment upon the futility of the concept of revenge.