Critic Reviews

The film is long and slow, but never boring. There is, however, a sense that the various storylines are not woven together completely.

The visuals make this feel like an actual Western, even though it doesn’t have the epic scale of the great Hollywood Westerns.

Storywise, it’s a solid if overlong tale of family and redemption – fans of “Yellowstone” or “Horizon” will find stuff to love. Where “Rust” stands out is in its look, a gorgeously shot production with an emphasis on contrasts and dark colors that’s a testament to the talents of Hutchins and fellow cinematographer Bianca Cline.

Rehashing clichés with formal polish but little novelty, this oater is a dour affair made all the grimmer by the fact that there isn’t a second of its 139 minutes that isn’t colored, in some way, by the on-set shooting that made it notable, and notorious, in the first place.

Cobbling together ideas from other, better movies, Rust isn’t original enough to be a must-see, but it didn’t deserve to be canceled because of an accident, either. Mr. Baldwin has been largely absent from the screen in recent years, and this effort is a reminder that, to use a word often applied to Harland Rust himself, he remains formidable.

It is about as standard a Western as you can imagine, one that hits all the narrative beats and clichés expected of the genre, but the technical quality of it is undeniable, bolstered by gorgeous cinematography, strong performances, and a really impressive turn from its child star, Patrick Scott McDermott.

There’s an elegant severity to the natural elements that share the frame with the movie’s characters, manifested in silhouettes against vast cloudy skies, delicate snowfalls, shafts of light in dark interiors and crisp air filled with smoke and dust. A testament to lives cut short, Rust is beautifully filmed and all the sadder for it

Rust isn’t so much a poor story or even badly told; there’s just too much of it, strung out along a discursive narrative trail that turns out to be unnecessarily repetitious.

Rust, Alec Baldwin and Joel Souza’s slow-moving, sepia-toned homage to the American western, is the kind of respectable if unremarkable genre exercise that would have come and gone without much notice were it not for the circumstances of its making.

What is undeniable is that because Rust looks as good as it does, every time riders on horseback appear against a florid sky, it isn’t the characters you think about — it’s Halyna Hutchins.