Why I Love Westerns

"What makes a western? It seems to me that it's not simply that it took place in the western part of the United States, nor is it big hats and peacemakers and horses. I mean, all of those are elements, certainly, but what makes a western a western to me is that you lack the recourse of civilization to work out whatever the problem is, and therefore characters must work out the dilemmas for themselves."

~ Walter Hill ~

So, why do I love westerns?
 
Well, it all goes so deep. Not to be cliche, but deep right down past the soles of my boots and into the soil itself.

There's the epic-ness and the grandeur; which is all part and parcel of my love for the western land itself, with all the varieties that entails. The high outcroppings. The sun coming up and slanting long, or turning to a golden haze at sunset through the pine trees. The western grass that grows long and green and turns to that special wispy crunch by high summer. Mountains, snow drifts, aspens, and high altitude pines growing short, stubborn, and twisted against the wind. And smoothly rounded rocks and fast rushing water. Thinking back, I can definitely say my love for the landscape first spurred my love of westerns as such. We didn't watch many (as in any at all really) when I was little, but we did drive back and forth across the wide open spaces. So then when I started delving into all the delights of western film, it was a natural (and very fast) progression. A peopling of those wide spreading places. ;)

Through it all there's a bigger-than-life sort of feel, but yet it's REAL. And so when it comes to story (book or film) whether or not each and every story (of the excellent ones anyway) is completely and utterly historically accurate to the very last iota -- doesn't really worry me. It's like the knightly tales of honor and daring. It's what Tolkien was trying to do for England in Lord of the Rings. It's the stuff of true myth and legend. The stuff of which heart stories are made.

"The English have Shakespeare, the French have Moliere, the Russians have Chekov, the Argentines, have Borges, but the Western is ours--from Canada down to the Mexican border."

 ~ Robert Duvall ~

As for the men of this wild western landscape… (and the women as well I suppose, but let's not take on too many things at once) whether or not they like the challenges -- or even the land itself -- it still shapes who they are, irrevocably. It dyes them in the weave.

(In the following, I wanna make it clear I do not think you have to be in or from the west to identify with and have a deep passion for your calling, so let's just be clear on that.)

Now I'm not romanticizing here, as I'm thrilled to be married to such a man myself (which personal experience has led to a lot of these cogitations and this particular light bulb moment), but in whatever capacity -- rancher, lawman, homesteader, trapper, cowboy, railroad baron, etc. -- the calling and occupation of the men of the wild frontier country is integral to their very identity. (My western man, for instance, who's a business owner dealing with emergency communications, would have owned the telegraph company; really a very apt comparison. :)) But it's who they are. And they're proud of it.

And generally (in the stories I tend to love anyway) they naturally tend to have a very defined vision of life -- principles they live by, compromises they’re unwilling to make. And they follow through on those with dogged, sticky tenacity. They’re the protagonists I love rooting for and it’s WHY I love rooting for them.

They’re taking dominion and -- even on a regular, run-of-the-mill, ordinary week -- the stakes are real, and they're ginormous. Whether or not they carry a gun (and whether they can even be a real western man without one, or under what circumstances that might happen, is a discussion for another time), but their days are played out with live ammo.

You say what you mean and you mean what you say, or take the consequences. Who you stand with and what you fight for matters. Loyalty matters. (“Whose side you on, boy?”) There's no room for dithering about. It's a world of manly men who (while they can be the deep, complex, strong silent type) are bold and forthright when they do speak. Men who are confident and secure enough in their own opinions to joke and rib each other.

So there're the recurring themes of treachery and loyalty; and who has your back. Along with this, the man-to-man friendships aren’t soppy. They’re gritty and real and often forged under fire. These men are strong and courageous, and if they're not, they face down the fear.

(The view out my dining room this morning. <3)

Truth be told, I’m a western girl through and through. The Tetons and Yellowstone country are my happy place. Sagebrush and Ponderosa pines can make me cry. There’s a mounted antelope head above our couch that’s one of my favorite things about our living room. Gun belts and saddles and well-worn slouch hats and the sound of horse hooves pounding are signs of thrilling adventure.

In the westerns I love things can get dark -- there can be a lot of sweat and blood and tears and hard work and tragedy by times -- but it's all worth it. Because the other side of it all is magnificent and breathtaking -- full of lovely, incredible, heart-stopping heroism and tales of epic redemption and good gifts. And surrounding all of it -- running through every story -- is the whole rich, alluring, wide spreading land itself, a world to tame and conquer and be fruitful and run wild in.

It's beautiful!