Bone Tomahawk (2015)

Is it just me, or is the western/horror subgenre vastly underexplored? I mean sure, one comes out every once in a blue moon - films like The Burrowers, The Pale Door (neither of which I’ve seen yet, so perhaps the fault lies simply with the audience here) or the cult hit Ravenous (a film that I was very divided on) - but few are generally considered especially great films. Generally, such genre blends are done in simply because the person in charge has no idea how to write either a horror film or a western and so is totally unqualified to combine the two, and/or because 'combining' them ends up translating to something closer to rapidly switching between one genre or the other throughout the runtime, creating a tone that feels at odds with itself. With that being said, Bone Tomahawk might just be the first successful blend of its kind: a film that understands the core of the western genre, and how an invasion of horror tropes might set comfortably within it so that no definitive 'switch' ever occurs.

It begins with an effective if somewhat familiar premise borrowed directly from John Ford's classic John Wayne-led western The Searchers. After a criminal bumbles into the quiet town of Bright Hope and begins acting suspiciously, the town sheriff, Franklin Hunt, and his backup deputy, Chicory, decide to confront him in the local tavern, leading to a brawl and the mystery man being locked up in the town jail. That night, the man is left in the care of the town nurse Mrs. O’Dwyer - so that she can make sure he survives wounds sustained during his arrest long enough to answer for all the bloodstained valuables he had attempted to bury in a marked spot just outside town - along with young deputy Nick.

Unfortunately, the next morning it’s discovered that someone or something tore a surgical path through Bright Hope that ended at the jail. When Sheriff Hunt arrives, everyone left there overnight has disappeared without a trace, leaving Mrs. O’Dwyer’s husband Arthur in a state of worried panic and Hunt feeling responsible for their disappearance. As a result, a party of rescuers is quickly established: Sheriff Hunt and Chicory will ride out and attempt to track down the missing party and deal with the kidnappers, alongside the haughty John Brooder, a famed gunslinger who used to be close with Mrs. O’Dwyer, and Arthur O’Dwyer himself, whose workplace injury to his leg leaves him as something of a liability to the whole expedition, but he’s not going to accept no for an answer and no one in the rescue party feels able to order him to stay behind.

Needless to say, the mood is quite bleak: a Native American man in town nicknamed “the Professor” identifies the party of nocturnal kidnappers as belonging to a clan of cannibalistic neanderthals who would “rape and kill their own mothers.” In light of this, and the time it takes before the party is able to gather itself up and head out, the mood is fairly hopeless. When Sheriff Hunt tells his wife about the expedition, she’s immediately distraught, asking him, “Do you truly think she’s still alive?” in an attempt to make him give up the whole idea, but Hunt will not be dissuaded. Worse still is Mr. O'Dwyer's lot: at night, when smart men know it’s best to rest up and gather up your strength, poor Arthur complies but does so knowing that every second the party delays, the possibility of his wife suffering grievous harm becomes more and more likely...

Lonesome crowded west

It’s at this point that we should quickly break and discuss our cast of characters. Principally, that they’re all quite excellent and masterfully written, which is a plus in any classicist western like this one where atmosphere and careful pacing is king. Our characters pass the time conversing about seemingly random subjects that flesh out their characters and lampshade the film’s slippery sense of morality, without any noticeable exposition dumps or audience handholding/signposting. 

Sheriff Hunt is extremely well-written (“Why are you in my breakfast?”) if not particularly unique in the annals of non-antagonistic movie sheriffs. Deputy Chicory, on the other hand, is quite unique. Initially, he’s depicted as an old coot, who could either be a tad funny in the head or possibly a massive alcoholic. As the film goes on, however, neither of these turns out to be true at all: he’s just a quirky, ultimately very sweet old man who has lived a life full of excitement and adventure in his own way, with tragedy eventually leading him to where he is now. Ultimately, he’s remarkably competent, and his stubborn idealism marks him out as perhaps the easiest of the bunch to identify with.

The other most striking character has got to be Arthur O’Dwyer, if only because, in any other similar film, he’d be the typical handsome, ultra-competent, and stoic protagonist: here, he’s a working man with a literary edge, who is actually laid up and being nursed back to health when duty calls. As a result, the whole film is like one massive, almost biblical test of mettle for him: he spends the bulk of the film dragging himself uselessly along the arid landscape as his leg wound begins to become infected, while the rest of the party go on ahead of him. He doesn’t want to slow them down, you see. Everything about his character suggests that he won’t make it and that his quest is entirely in vain, and despite the fact that it’s his wife that’s been kidnapped, he doesn’t come off like much of a protagonist given his hanger-on status for much of the film. The thing is, however: later on in the film, he subverts all expectations and becomes a very unique sort of western hero: one who must be extremely resourceful, given that he’s gimped in just about every way possible, which leads to some particularly involved and uniquely scrappy action sequences in the film's third act.

Finally, there’s John Brooder. He’s the outlier in the party: the only reason he comes along is that he’s the one who went to fetch Mr. O’Dwyer the night before and thus, according to him, he feels partially responsible for what happened. Plus, he’s a gunslinger who claims to have expertise in slaughtering Indians, which the party apparently still considers the big threat of the film to be despite the warnings of the Professor earlier. We later learn, however, that he really went along because, despite Mrs. O’Dwyer’s marriage to Arthur, he still has feelings for her from way back. And the whole Indian killing thing? Well, as much as I’d like to just write the guy off as pure evil, he does at one point divulge that his entire family was massacred by Indians when he was a boy. Sure, the attack was likely provoked by white aggression, but how is a young boy supposed to know or care about that? Brooder’s gentlemanly mannerisms and witticisms (“Smart men don’t get married.”) endear him to us as well, despite the film still making it clear that he’s done some truly horrible things in his time.

As I hinted at just a moment ago, Bone Tomahawk is what I consider an authentic western, not just a film where everyone dresses up like cowboys and ride around in the desert. Its pacing is plainly incredible (though divisive amongst filmgoers who aren’t familiar with the classics of the genre and/or decided to start the two-hour-plus film just before bed) and the writing carries this film in the same ways that great writing tended to carry most of the classic American westerns. What’s even more impressive though, is that it manages to pull this off while dabbling in tropes from horror films! Still, the horror elements are most prominent at the very beginning of the film along with most of the third act, leaving a large gap in the middle for the film to draw us in and convince us that we’re watching a "real" western. The fusion is ultimately successful then, with each aspect enhancing the others rather than getting in their way.

The earth died screaming

Getting back to the narrative, in the wake of our party setting out on their hopeless quest, we’re introduced to the wild west as a nightmarish labyrinth where evil men wait just out of eyesight anywhere and everywhere to kill you and take your shit. Each night, when the group makes camp, they tie tripwires rigged to bells around them so that if anything approaches as they sleep, they’ll know. Generally, the response to the sound of a bell sounding at night is, without question or hesitation, to aim and fire at the offending sound and then go back to sleep. While this might seem harsh, after what we see in the very first shot of the movie, it’s clear this approach is probably warranted.

*start of spoilers*

It’s very quickly discovered that Mr. O’Dwyer has been neglecting his prior leg wound that his missing wife had been cleaning and dressing for him, and he’s warned to take better care of it in the future. A serious issue arises then when a party of Mexicans who approach camp with their hands in the air are executed by John Brooder, (possibly) prompting a related group of thieves to sneak up and steal the party's horses the next night while they're sleeping. At this point, things are looking hopeless, especially for Arthur who must now walk god knows how many miles on crutches and a nearly-infected leg. A little later, Chicory attempts to operate on the leg only to decide that it needs to be amputated. Arthur emphatically says no to this, and so Chicory sets the leg once more. During the day, Mr. O’Dwyer lags behind the party as they travel, and each night, when they stop to sleep, he is able to catch up with them, though at the expense of Arthur’s health overall. Needless to say, it’s not looking good for the poor guy.

It’s around this point that we begin approaching the third act, where everything that’s been hinted at up to this point suddenly comes out in full force. Our heroes reach a section of the desert that looks distinctly more ‘primordial’ than what came before, whereupon they leave behind everything that isn’t weapons or ammo. This is a neat touch that suggests a state change: our characters are about to leave civilization as they know it behind and travel back to a time before humanity, so this unloading of baggage feels important, though I admit I could be overthinking it. Almost immediately upon entering the lair of the “Troglodytes,” as the professor called them before, the party is pummeled with arrows and tomahawks by proto-humans who are covered in bone piercings and dust. It’s almost surreal the first time we lay eyes upon them, given how long they’ve been built up, and unlike the many horror films influenced by Alien, this film gives no dramatic heft to their first appearance. They simply come running out of the brush toward our heroes in broad daylight. It's a bit shocking, to say the least, although nothing compared to what comes later...

At this point, Brooder is mortally wounded by a titular bone tomahawk and so decides to stay behind and sacrifice himself as a distraction while the others conduct their rescue. Unfortunately, while Brooder is able to kill one more of the Troglodytes before he’s done for, the rest of the party (consisting of Hunt and Chicory, given that Arthur is still catching up at this point) is quickly overwhelmed and taken prisoner. They’re forced into a cavern lined with cages, where they’re locked up beside another group of prisoners who turn out to be none other than Deputy Nick and Mrs. O’Dwyer! Holy crap, they’re still alive somehow!

Unfortunately, they arrive just in time to watch as Deputy Nick is pulled from his cage and bisected from asshole to belly button and then torn open so that his candy spills out before being enjoyed as a tasty meal by the tribe. Mrs. O’Dwyer tells us that this is exactly how the jailed criminal from the beginning of the film was killed as well, making it clear that time is of the essence.

A bone to pick

Before we continue, I’d like to point out the contrast here between the scene of Deputy Nick’s death and something like the currently-infamous 'bedroom' murder of Terrifier 2. Despite the latter being built up as something that would permanently scar the viewer forever, it’s worth noting that it seems like what it is next to the stark violence in Bone Tomahawk: a big ole’ goof. A laugh. Watching poor Allie get pulled apart by a silent clown in a way that feels similar to Happy Tree Friends is as silly as it is disgusting; here, the gore is given full gravity, and we bear witness to precisely how much more less can be. Hell, we don’t even see the individual hacks to the dick and balls that are implied to be taking place: just the man’s asscrack filling with blood and his legs seizing as they’re carried out. And of course, there’s the simple context of the scene, and the way Sheriff Hunt attempts to reassure the poor guy as he’s torn apart by unthinking, unfeeling monsters a hundred miles from home... It’s an interesting comparison, is my point. Furthermore, the violence is depicted so starkly. There aren’t lots of quick cuts and close-ups; just wide, flat angles that depict the violence in an unflinching, unfeeling way that recalls Schindler’s List as much as it does The Unforgiven. 

I’d also like to draw attention to the way that, despite the sudden and shocking introduction of these cannibalistic prehistoric creatures, the film never misses a beat and still feels totally in control of itself. The invasion of horror elements into this classical western story is depicted very existentially in a way that fits the genre well. After first encountering the Troglodytes, we see our remaining characters struggling to integrate the existence of literal monsters into their worldview, although given the cruelty that they've seen humans inflicting on other humans throughout the narrative already, it ultimately isn’t as hard for them to grasp as one might expect. This is where good writing crosses over into 'stellar,' by the way.

Which reminds me: isn’t it odd that a film from 2015 chose to closely associate the antagonists with Native Americans, despite the Professor’s early insistence that the Troglodytes are not natives at all and the fact that that sort of thing runs the risk of seeming like a continuation of the racism that was present both the era classic westerns were set in and many of the classic westerns themselves? I choose to believe that this was intentional: I’ve said many times before that horror just needs to be scary, not rational, and there’s no doubt that the imagined version of Indians by cowboys back in the day probably made for some legendarily spooky campfire tales. So this is kind of a reconstruction of that old myth,  only the filmmakers clue us in on the fact that they’re doing something intelligent and subversion by suggesting that the Troglodytes are actually Neanderthal-like beings that preceded both the white man and the abused natives they butt heads with. When taken with all the morally grey moments where our heroes are confronted with the harsh realities of the wild west and the darkness men can be capable of, Bone Tomahawk gives us plenty to ponder, which is nice given its lengthy runtime and languid pacing.

Bright hope

So with the party’s situation looking especially grim, it’s up to none other than the crippled man to save everyone’s ass, apparently. Mr. O’Dwyer manages to kill a few of the cannibals as he approaches the camp, despite his injuries, which leads to an unusual discovery: the Troglodytes, at some point in their life, have an animal bone inserted into their windpipe so that they can make their characteristic inhuman screech. Arthur cuts this device out of the throats of one of the fallen creatures, and promptly begins using it to lure the Troglodytes out of their cave. Unfortunately, it’s too late for Sheriff Hunt, who is mortally wounded when one of them retaliates against him for attempting to poison them all with opium tincture the night before. Luckily for everyone else, however, the remaining Troglodytes leave to go investigate the commotion outside and are roundly dealt with by Mr. O’Dwyer. When he arrives inside to free the party from their cages, Sheriff Hunt, still clinging to life despite his wounds, tells everyone to go on without him: he’ll stay behind with a rifle, and finish off any Troglodytes that arrive to find the rest of their clan slaughtered. Then he utters the best line in the whole movie to his pal Chicory: “Say goodbye to my wife, I’ll say hello to yours.” On the way out of the cave, the party observes a number of female troglodytes who have all their limbs amputated and stakes driven through their eyes to be used as baby factories. They decide to leave them be.

As the film ends, we hear two shots followed by a third a little after. Our heroes smile as they assume the rest of the clan has been put to rest, though we can’t be sure of what happened. This is one of those touches that shows just how well the film’s writer and director, Craig S. Zahler, knows his way around a screenplay, as it leaves us with a nice little dangling thread to ponder once the film is over. On the other hand, it’s the man's background as a novel writer that is likely responsible for the historical accuracy and subtlety of the film’s incredible dialogue, and the richness of its characters. Still, Zahler had no prior experience directing films, so one can’t help but be awed that he was capable of pulling off such a strange blend of genres in a way that makes the result feel completely natural.

*end of spoilers*

And that’s your lot as far as Bone Tomahawk goes. It isn’t for people who want a modern action film where everyone just dresses in period attire, acts out their scenes in familiar Hollywood backlots, and curses like a prospector; this is for people who enjoy the old classics and regret that they simply don’t make them like they used to. Sure, there’s never quite been anything like Bone Tomahawk before, but it still follows in the footsteps of the great westerns that have come before it, understanding why those old films still hold appeal today and dedicating itself to carrying on their traditions. The atmosphere is grim and unforgiving, where background music is generally eschewed in favor of ambient noise, and the visuals are alternatively beautiful and stark, sometimes both. Most importantly though, the writing is incredible and totally devoid of pretension. It manages a nice premise and simple plot that borrows from old westerns without feeling entirely familiar, features well-rounded characters whose interactions with one another draw us in and keep us from becoming turned off by the film’s relentlessly bleak tone, and examines morality in a world where life is cheap. It even has the balls to imagine a world in which every negative stereotype about Native Americans turns out to be true, despite the fact that the creatures in this film aren’t actually natives at all. Why does it do this? Because it’s scary. And because it’s entertaining that, in a place as dangerous and horrible as the wild west, such monsters don’t really shatter our protagonists’ worldview. They’re depicted as nothing but one more thing to worry about when traveling across America the beautiful. It’s for these reasons that Bone Tomahawk surpasses every expectation I had of it and indicates that its creator is one of the more talented voices in American cinema today.