In the opening scenes of 1957’s 3:10 to Yuma, it’s made damned clear that our villain is a ruthlessly violent man. In short order and before our eyes, this remorseless outlaw commits the cold-blooded murders of friends and foe alike, while his sycophantic henchmen hang on his every word and deed. His calm demeanor suggests that of a psychopathic manipulator – a facade only betrayed (or perhaps perversely reinforced) by his fleeting infatuation with a bar girl in a nearby town. He is a menace and a thief, that much is obvious, but it’s his words rather than his actions that draw us in. His manner of speaking is evocative and inviting – so much so that, if not careful, one might assume they are the lyrics not of a ruthless killer, but of a misunderstood poet or philosopher. What kind of a man is this? And what kind of man might it take to bring him to justice?
Director Delmer Daves answers these questions with a tight, 92-minute ride into the minds of both Ben Wade, the charismatic killer (Glenn Ford), and Dan Evans (Van Heflin), the desperate, down on his luck rancher charged with escorting him to Yuma to stand trial. With a screenplay by Halsted Welles (based on a short story by Elmore Leonard), Daves reinforces Wade’s vicious tendencies not through gunplay or outward savagery, but through measured psychological taunting. The film’s violent setup is certainly intense, but the real meat of the story – the psychological show-down between adversaries – proves that, sometimes, the threat of violence is more intense than the act itself.
What makes this clash of wits work so well is that Heflin’s Dan seems consistently on the verge of giving in to Wade’s promises of money and security. The steadfast nature Dan shows his family and companions falters when he and Wade are finally alone, and who can blame him? Wade is a wordsmith of the highest order, and what he’s selling is extremely enticing. Is Wade telling the truth? We’ll never know, but the point is that Dan appears to almost take him up on his offer more than once, making for some fiercely entertaining exchanges.
Heflin shines as the conflicted Dan, but it’s Glen Ford as the hubristic Ben Wade who steals the show. Never once does Ford give away what Wade might be really thinking inside that smug head of his, and we wouldn’t want him to. His reserved serenity, even in the face of death or imprisonment, accentuates the ticking clock that represents the fate of both men. As Wade grins, Dan sweats, leading to an exciting (if admittedly somewhat far-fetched) climactic battle in which neither man knows what they will do until they’ve already done it.
United States • 195792 minutes • Black & White • 1.85:1 • English • Spine #657
Criterion Special Features Include
- New, restored 4K digital film transfer, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray edition
- Alternate 5.1 surround soundtrack, presented in DTS-HD Master Audio on the Blu-ray edition
- New interviews with author Elmore Leonard and actor Glenn Ford’s son and biographer, Peter Ford
- English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
- Plus: A booklet featuring a new essay by critic Kent Jones
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.