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 1990s was a decade that saw the Western genre evolve in exciting and unexpected ways. While Clint Eastwood’s Oscar winning masterpiece Unforgiven (1992) understandably looms large over the Western genre during this era, several lesser-known films quietly made their mark, offering captivating stories that have since slipped under the radar.

From methodical character studies to high-octane action, these underrated features may not have received the attention or praise they deserved upon release, but they offer a wealth of riches for those willing to seek them out.

Here, we shine a spotlight on ten 1990s Westerns you might not have seen, or perhaps that you simply need to revisit.

1. Thousand Pieces of Gold (1991)

Although it didn’t trouble any box office records, Thousand Pieces of Gold tacitly carved out its own place as a poignant, overlooked classic. Directed by Nancy Kelly, the film chronicles the journey of Lalu (Rosalind Chao), a young Chinese woman who is sold into servitude in the American West.

Based on Ruthanne Lum McCunn’s novel, the story is a bleak one, dealing with a woman’s struggle in an unforgiving, male-dominated world. Lalu’s resilience in the face of appalling adversity is portrayed with real depth by Chao, who adds emotional weight to her character’s journey.

In addition to its strong central performance, the film showcases stunning cinematography, capturing the vast landscapes of the American West with breathtaking beauty. While it may have flown under the radar during its release, Thousand Pieces of Gold offers a unique viewpoint, one not often seen in traditional Western narratives, and worth watching for Chao’s performance alone.

2. El Mariachi (1992)

El Mariachi burst onto the scene in 1992 with a raw energy that would lay the foundation for a career-defining trilogy by director Robert Rodriguez. Made for a staggeringly low budget of just $7,000, El Mariachi tells the story of a wandering musician (Carlos Gallardo) who becomes involved in a violent conflict between rival criminals.

Despite the lack of financial resources, Rodriguez manages to craft an intense, action-packed film that blends traditional Western themes with a fresh Latino stance. El Mariachi’s action is fast-paced, and the performances (particularly from Gallardo) manage to add real nuance to the unfolding carnage, resulting in a film that has more depth than you might think at first glance.

The mix of humour, violence, and passion reflects Rodriguez’s unique filmmaking style, in a film that he arguably never bettered. El Mariachi ended up being the first in a trilogy, with Desperado (1995) and Once Upon a Time in Mexico (2003) yet to come, but remains feasibly the best of the three.

Rodriguez’s film deserves recognition not just as a standout in independent cinema, but as a boundary-pushing Western that successfully merges cultural identity with genre tropes in a way that feels both innovative and thrilling to this day.

3. Thunderheart (1992)

Blending elements of the Western genre with a politically charged narrative, Thunderheart is an often-overlooked gem of the 1990s. Directed by Michael Apted, who went on to helm a Bond film (1999’s The World is Not Enough) the film follows Ray Levoi (Val Kilmer), an FBI agent who is sent to a Native American reservation to investigate a series of violent incidents.

What makes Thunderheart a whole heap more interesting is Levoi’s own Native American heritage, which forces him to confront both his professional responsibilities and his growing empathy for the oppressed people he is meant to be investigating. Thunderheart’s exploration of Native American identity and its critique of the U.S. government’s treatment of indigenous people came at a time when such a political debate was hardly at the forefront of people’s minds, due to a media and political driven narrative.

Kilmer’s portrayal of Levoi is superb, capturing the struggle between his two identities with complexity and authenticity. The film is also notable for its stunning cinematography, particularly in the portrayal of the vast, South Dakota landscape, which plays on the idea of isolation and disillusionment. With its focus on moral conflict and its depiction of real-life struggles of Native American, Thunderheart remains one of the great underseen alternative Westerns.

4. Maverick (1994)

In a genre often filled with serious, brooding characters, Maverick injects a much-welcome dose of humour and charm into the Western formula. Directed by Richard Donner, the film is a light-hearted romp based on the classic TV series. Mel Gibson stars as the titular Bret Maverick, a poker player and conman who finds himself roped into a high-stakes card game. Alongside him are Jodie Foster as Annabelle and James Garner, who reprises his role from the original TV series.

What makes Maverick stand out is its well written wit and humour, downing the tools of a traditional genre piece, splicing character-driven action and comedy. Gibson’s charm and Foster’s sharp wit complement each other perfectly, creating an enjoyable and breezy adventure that never takes itself too seriously. Donner had worked with Gibson on the hugely successful Lethal Weapon series (1987-1998) so it’s not really a surprise to see the style of that franchise working so effectively in such a setting.

Though the film certainly has its share of action and suspense, it is the quirky, light-hearted moments that make Maverick so memorable; and despite the fact it’s admittedly a rather well known Western, it’s a much better and efficient film than many give it credit for.

5. Dead Man (1995)

Shot in haunting black-and-white and set against the desolate backdrop of the American frontier, Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man is an exploration of mortality, spirituality, and the human condition. Johnny Depp plays William Blake, an accountant who ventures west to start a new life, only to find himself caught in a web of violence and chaos.

As he spirals deeper into his own existential crisis, Blake encounters a series of strange characters, including Native American Gary Farmer, who becomes his reluctant guide. What makes Dead Man a cut above its unfortunate place in the cinematic wilderness is its deliberate pacing and differing approach to the genre. Dead Man isn’t interested in your average action sequences or gunfights that frequently pepper Westerns; instead, it deals in more philosophical debates and the nature of the self. Depp’s performance is quietly compelling, capturing the mental torture of a man who is visibly aware of his own mortality.

The film’s haunting, minimalist score by Neil Young adds to its surreal atmosphere, making Dead Man a unique and contemplative entry in the Western genre. Though Dead Man has garnered somewhat of a cult following in the years since its release, it remains a film that was never seen by the wider audience it deserved.