The Harder They Fall

In the unfortunately small stack of black Westerns in cinema history, The Harder They Fall might be overcooked, but, crucially, it’s a fun entry to the genre.

Leave your saddlebags at the door and mount up for one hell of a ride.

Westerns were always fantasies, but The Harder They Fall is so abstract a fantasy it barely feels like a Western more a series of poses involving cowboy outfits, six-shooters and desert landscapes.

This is a Friday night affair: It wants to rouse us out of our seats -- and it does. Samuel's movie, with its reggae-inflected soundtrack and booming cast revels in the freedoms of pastiche, reckless violence, and glossy, staccato style.

"The Harder They Fall" wobbles between witty homage and ugly Tarantinoid overkill, resulting in a movie that looks like it was more fun to make than it is to watch.

There are joys throughout The Harder They Fall, and the film is entertaining enough for the most part. But its overly glossy slickness and its 130-minute runtime are distractions.

With The Harder They Fall, Jeymes Samuel gives a voice to those who existed but were rarely heard, and issues in a new and exciting era for the Western genre.

If any word could describe “The Harder They Fall” it is dynamic. This is one of the most kinetically charged Westerns of the past decade, let alone this year.

As compelling as this Western tale can be, at times it is overshadowed by a few technical mishaps.

The Harder They Fall is easily one of Netflix's most successful original movies. The cast do their very best to bring the most out of the script, there is action aplenty and the soundtrack is one of the most memorable of the year.