The 30 Best Westerns Of All Time

Since the earliest days of cinema, Westerns have been one of Hollywood's favorite genres. 1908's "The Great Train Robbery" was one of the most successful early films, while 1939's "Stagecoach" kicked off a golden age of Westerns that lasted until the mid-20th century, making stars out of actors like Gary Cooper, James Stewart, Robert Mitchum, Henry Fonda, Glenn Ford, and Walter Brennan.

While thought of as a hallmark of American movies, international Westerns grew in popularity, too. European films referred to as "Spaghetti Westerns" emerged in the '60s thanks to Sergio Leone's "The Man With No Name" trilogy, while experimental filmmakers like Alejandro Jodorowsky coined the term "acid Western." Westerns often meld with other genres as well. Films like "Blazing Saddles" poke fun at Western clichés, while science fiction borrows heavily from Westerns; famous sci-fi properties like Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, "Star Wars," and "Firefly" reimagine Western storylines in an intergalactic setting, while movies like "Westworld" and "Back to the Future: Part III" directly combine the genres.

Given the expansive history of the genre, narrowing down the greatest Westerns of all-time is no easy task. These 25 films, listed in no particular order, epitomize everything the Western is capable of: grand adventures, romances, comedies, historical tales, and even social commentaries.

The last Western film from John Wayne and John Ford is a surprisingly downbeat commentary on the perils of hero worship. Told entirely in flashback, "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" has a chilling final line that questions why violence is perpetual on the frontier. Although color film was already mainstream when the film was released in 1962, Ford shot the film in black and white, giving it the pensive feeling of a fleeting memory of a bygone era.

"The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" follows respected politician Ransom Stoddard (James Stewart) as he travels to the funeral of the rancher Tom Doniphon (John Wayne). It's initially unclear why an important political figure cares so deeply about the life of a working class man, but the film delves into their early friendship, showing how Stoddard helped establish a new political framework for Doniphon's hometown, Shinbone. The town resists political meetings and debates about statehood, but an empathetic Stoddard simply wants to save Shinbone from isolation. Doniphon distrusts Washington, but respects Stoddard.

Their advancements are threatened by the vicious bounty hunter Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin), who aims to take over the town before it is fully incorporated within the U.S. Government. Stoddard is forced to take up a weapon and engage in conflict for the first time, while Doniphon struggles to keep the peace. Both men are out of their comfort zones, forced to face the limits of their abilities.

Hailed by "Sight and Sound" as one of the ten greatest films ever made, "The Searchers" is both a beautiful and haunting Western. Gorgeously capturing the scope of the west through portrait-like cinematography, John Ford showed his affinity for natural beauty. George Lucas cited the visual poetry of "The Searchers" as a major influence on "Star Wars," and pays homage to the film when Luke discovers the destruction of the Lars Homestead in "A New Hope." The film's frank depiction of the genocide of Native Americans does not romanticize history, and John Wayne's psychopathic character is a distinct departure from the heroic roles he's known for.

Civil War veteran Ethan Edwards (Wayne) looks to retire to his family home with his brother Aaron (Walter Coy). However, the homestead is suddenly attacked, and while both Aaron and his wife, Martha (Dorothy Jordan), perish, Ethan suspects that his eight-year-old niece Debbie (Lana Wood) has been abducted by Comanche. Ethan's adopted nephew, Martin (Jeffrey Hunter), helps him lead a search party, but the grizzled former Confederate uses the quest to fuel his bloodlust and bigotry. Martin's mixed race heritage creates additional tension between the two.

The searing incitement of cyclical violence in "The Searchers" is explicit, as Ethan is enraged when he learns that an older Debbie (Natalie Wood) has joined a Comanche tribe. "The Searchers" has ambiguous themes that invite analysis; given Ethan's attachment to Debbie, who he bestows his medals to, it's possible that she is in fact his daughter through infidelity.

"High Noon" was a novelty in 1952, featuring a more conflicted hero than the fearless gunslingers of earlier Westerns. It presents a complex moral dilemma and focuses on intimate conversations over non-stop action, and its pacifist message generated controversy. The recurring appearance of a ticking clock adds tension to the story, making its 85 minutes fly by.

Marshall Will Kane (Gary Cooper) is on the eve of retirement, preparing to leave his duty to focus on raising a family with his new bride, Amy Fowler (Grace Kelly). He receives word that the dangerous murderer Frank Miller (Ian McDonald), whom Kane had imprisoned earlier in his career, is set to be released from prison and will arrive by train to threaten the town once more. Amy informs her husband that she will depart on the noon train with or without him, and Kane must weigh his conflicting loyalties as Miller gathers a band of criminals.

The film's final sequence, in which Kane casts his badge aside after dueling Miller, is a defining moment in western cinema; in this moment, Kane gains the love of the townspeople who feared he'd leave. Cooper won the Academy Award for Best Actor for his sensitive, yet commanding performance. The film was also awarded best editing for its meticulous pacing, and earned both Best Original Score and Best Original Song for its memorable music.

Although few modern Westerns are as worthy as those from the golden era, this 2007 masterpiece from director Andrew Dominick is an exception. "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" is a fascinating deconstruction of the lionization of Western outlaws told through the eyes of an obsessive fan. It's an astute commentary on Western mythology, placed in a grittier setting.

Robert Ford (Casey Affleck) has grown up idolizing the famed train robber Jesse James (Brad Pitt) and wants nothing more than to join his band of criminals. James' crew, including Ford's brother Charley (Sam Rockwell) and James' cousin Wood Hite (Jeremy Renner), mock the starstruck younger man, but he eventually gains an audience with James, who recruits him for a series of heists. Ford's loyalties stray as he becomes disillusioned by his hero's cruelty and betrays him. Pitt weaponizes his charisma to give depth to a reprehensible character, and Affleck is perfect as a timid, yet jealous adolescent.

The cinematography by Roger Deakins is among the most beautiful to ever grace the screen, and incorporates still images and photos to authentically recreate life in the 19th century. Dominik's film had a challenging road to release, was edited several times by Warner Brothers, and underperformed financially. However, the introspective themes and gradual pacing make "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" a modern classic worthy of renewed acclaim.

Paul Newman and Robert Redford would go on to star in the Best Picture-winning heist film "The Sting" together, but their earlier team-up, "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," is the better movie. Featuring exciting train robbery setpieces and a quirky use of music (including an iconic sequence set to "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head"), it's a breathlessly entertaining thrill ride from start to finish. Despite the comedic elements, the film does hint at the darker side of the criminal lifestyle through its ambiguous ending.

Newman and Redford star as the titular leads, two lifelong bank robbers who lead the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang. Although Butch is more experienced, both are extremely confident, and Newman and Redford do a great job capturing the clashing of personalities while still making it clear that the characters care for one another. Their banter breathes life into crackling dialogue from legendary screenwriter William Goldman.

"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" reflects on why adventure-seeking outlaws are continuously drawn back to their dangerous lifestyles. Even with enough winnings to sustain themselves, and presented with the option for a normal life, Butch and Sundance continue to keep doing what they know best.

"Stagecoach" is one of the most important Westerns of all-time, setting many precedents for the genre, including an admiration for natural environments and a cast made up of morally ambiguous characters. It was also notable as John Wayne's breakout role; Wayne's introductory scene as the brave everyman known as "The Ringo Kid" is one of the greatest screen debuts of all time.

"Stagecoach" follows a group of strangers as they travel by coach from Arizona to New York. They are forced to work together in order to survive the attacks of Apache raiding parties. It's a movie full of interesting social commentary; although the characters have different professions and belong to various social classes, they're all equal when their lives are in danger.

The film creates tension by confining the characters to the coach, and is still entertaining today. However, certain elements have not aged well; the Apache characters are treated purely as villains and do not have any depth. On a more positive note, the prostitute Dallas (Claire Trevor) has an agency that was rare among female characters in early Westerns.

"Shane" is a mature depiction of the last days of the American West, when a more connected nation didn't require frontier justice from independent gunslingers. However, one farm still needs a drifting gunfighter (Alan Ladd) to stand up against the ruthless cattle baron Rufus Ryker (Emile Meyer). Shane is reluctant to settle in this secluded community, but can't ignore his desire to protect the innocent, and bonds with the young boy Joey Starrett (Brandon deWilde), who idolizes him.

"Shane" popularized the idea of a former hero returning to duty after retiring. Ladd gives a heartbreaking performance as Shane considers his destiny, and his relationship with Joey is remarkably poignant. "Shane" was incredibly influential on other films, especially the X-Men spin-off "Logan." "Logan" also features an older hero reminiscing on his life, and James Mangold included several clips from "Shane" in his film, making the parallels explicit.

John Wayne's final film was in this touching tribute to his own career. While filming, Wayne was suffering from health issues; similarly, his character, J.B. Books, is an older gunslinger recovering from a gunshot wound he'd suffered a decade earlier. The parallels make the film particularly emotional, as Wayne discusses his deteriorating condition with his doctor, Dr. E. W. Hostetler (James Stewart). Seeing Wayne and Stewart reunited is a fun reference to their older collaborations.

While the meditative approach that "The Shootist" takes can be grueling, the film is heartwarming, too. Books falls in love with housekeeper Bond Rogers (Lauren Bacall) and takes her son Gillom (Ron Howard) under his wing. As Gillom grows aware of Books' legacy and seeks to become a hero of his caliber, Howard injects the film with some much-needed humor. However, Books warns Gillom about the dangers of his profession, and reveals the toll that killing has taken on him. Wayne's final act of onscreen heroism during the film's climactic shootout puts a perfect cap on his career.

"One-Eyed Jacks" survived a troubled production to become a Western classic. Originally, Stanley Kubrick was going to direct the technicolor Western, but dropped out two weeks before filming after disputing the budget with Paramount Pictures. The film's star, Marlon Brando, stepped in and directed a five-hour version with a nihilistic finale, but Paramount grew concerned, forcing Brando to cut the runtime in half and change the ending. Unfortunately, much of the footage was destroyed and Brando's director's cut will never see the light of day. The experience was so challenging that Brando never directed another film.

However, the version of "One-Eyed Jacks" that was released is still a terrific Western. Brando stars as a bank robber nicknamed Rio "The Kid" who is betrayed by his mentor "Dad" Longworth (Karl Madden) and spends five years in prison. After Rio is released, Dad denies his version of events and boasts that his former partner will never defeat him in a duel. Rio reluctantly pursues his old friend, despite once loving him.

Brando makes the emotional core of the movie feel authentic, as he had a personal connection to the story: Brando had a troubled relationship with his father, and used the relationship between "The Kid" and "Dad" to reflect on his own experiences.

The first Western made by director Anthony Mann and James Stewart utilizes a creative structure to explore cyclical violence on the American frontier. The film changes its point-of-view character as the titular Winchester 1873 rifle passes between owners, while a detective named Lin McAdam (Stewart) traces the history of the weapon, following its story as different criminals claim the gun as their own

McAdam is a darker protagonist for Stewart, and is known for his proficient gunmanship. Despite his arrogance, McAdam is honorable, traveling between towns to train villagers how to protect themselves. The nonlinear narrative makes the central mystery more engaging, and McAdam is forced to start his search over whenever a new owner takes possession of the gun.

McAdam is one of Stewart's most memorable characters, but cinephiles may be surprised to see Tony Curtis and Rock Hudson appear in "Winchester '73" too, making small cameos before they became household names.

There are few post-Golden Age Westerns as legendary as "Tombstone." Though it helped cement the genre's '90s revival, it's still somewhat of a sleeper hit. However, upon discovering it, you'll realize how much fun you've been missing: a stacked cast, luscious period design, ruthless shootouts, and even a charming love story. It's the complete package, led by Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer in two legendary performances as historical icons Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday.

The film chronicles the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, a deadly shootout that saw Earp and Holliday, along with Earp's two brothers, confront a group of outlaws who were wreaking havoc in the film's titular town. The event has been depicted in films many times before, but "Tombstone" took a unique approach by placing the shootout in the middle of a much larger epic. Though the sequence's kinetic action fulfills the genre's requirements, it's the climax to an hour's worth of character building, and sets the stage for an additional hour of twists and turns.

In the end, the characters and their relationships push "Tombstone" to its dramatic heights. Earp and Holliday's friendship is a particular highlight, cheekily written but carried by a deeper loyalty that's evident by the film's end. Bill Paxton and Sam Elliott are also impeccable as Earp's brothers, proving the film is just as much a family story as it is a Western.

In the Western genre's long and ongoing history, no other filmmaker has come close to matching Sam Peckinpah's chaotic, ultraviolent filmmaking style. Frankly, nobody ever should. This isn't to say that Peckinpah wasn't a master of his craft, but his work can definitely be overwhelming. Case in point: Just one shootout in "The Wild Bunch" is the cinematic equivalent of repeated blunt force trauma. Frenetic cutting and explosively bloody violence thoroughly deromanticize what's often a celebrated type of action set piece. What other filmmakers portray as heroic, Peckinpah reveals as harrowing.

This disillusionment drives "The Wild Bunch," which is centered on a gang of outlaws who struggle to maintain their abandon in a society that has settled down. They decide to take one last job smuggling weapons for a Mexican warlord, which takes them into an even seedier world where they're forced to confront their own principles. It's the ultimate anti-Western Western, probing a wide array of the genre's familiar sticking points — racism, greed, misogyny, betrayal — only to come to a natural consensus: Violence begets violence, trauma begets trauma, and selfishness begets selfishness.

Peckinpah was wise to cast several then-older Golden Age stars to play his withered protagonists. Though actors like William Holden, Ernest Borgenine, and Robert Ryan were successful throughout their careers, the height of their success can be seen as a strong corollary to the glory days of the American West. These outlaws are past their prime; in a way, these stars are as well.

As you settle into the opening act of Delmer Daves' "3:10 To Yuma," you start to wonder when things are going to kick into high gear. Ben Wade (Glenn Ford) and his gang get away with a stick-up rather easily, and Ben himself spends the first act wooing a barmaid. Dan Evans (Van Heflin), whose cattle are left unwrangled due to Wade's robbery, is hesitant to fight back out of fear he'll be killed. There are no sensationalized shoot-outs nor any overt setpieces of any kind. It isn't until Dan and Ben are holed up in a hotel room together that the reasoning becomes clear: Daves' story is not a Western spectacle but instead, at its core, a chamber piece about two men who challenge each other's beliefs.

Dan is offered some much-needed money to see that Ben catches the titular train ride so that he can stand trial. The rancher is already out of his depth, but it doesn't help that the unconventionally suave Ben has enough mental ammunition to suggest he isn't quite the villain of the story. That said, Ben isn't impervious to Dan's predicament either. It's a battle of wits and convictions that culminates in a suspenseful final sequence, one that poetically bookends Daves' deconstruction of the Western's loose distinctions between lawman and criminal. The film's black and white photography only furthers this aim. Color film was widely popularized by this point, but Daves heightens the contrast to paint literal shades of gray between his emotionally complex characters.

You wouldn't think a film named "Johnny Guitar" merits much analysis. One of the characters in the film even calls out its ridiculousness ("That's no name"). And yet, this is another example of a massively influential classic Western that has since been forgotten outside of niche circles. "Johnny Guitar" is arguably the most subversive Westerns of the 1950s, in part due to its female-focused story. The film may be named after Sterling Hayden's character, but the star is Joan Crawford, to the point that it's a wonder why the film is not named after her.

She is Vienna, a domineering saloon owner whose plan to build property along an impending railroad puts her at odds with the locals. Things get worse when her associate, outlaw, The Dancin' Kid (Scott Brady), is accused of murdering the vindictive Emma Small's (Mercedes McCambridge) brother. Crawford and McCambridge are the film's dramatic forces, ruthlessly assertive amidst seas of men while still maintaining femme glamor and romantic vulnerability. "Johnny Guitar" has aged extremely well, in large part thanks to this subversion of the genre's traditional gender roles, a claim few other Westerns can make.

Philip Yordan and Ben Maddow's screenplay expertly divulge world-building and backstory in small doses, keeping viewers engaged as to how all of the story's seemingly disparate dots connect. The film eventually descends into full-blown melodrama, expertly blocked by "Rebel Without a Cause" director Nicholas Ray and gorgeously captured in Technicolor alternative Trucolor. No Western fan should go without witnessing this stunning oddity for themselves.

The American West is a bleak place, so few Westerns dare to be funny. However, when you're Mel Brooks, everything is funny. Therein lies the appeal of "Blazing Saddles," which pokes fun at just about everything and everybody, even in ways that would be deemed inappropriate in today's culture. While we can't deny certain portrayals make us cringe (yes, that is Mel Brooks in redface), the film's racial pastiche more than makes up for it by putting bureaucratic white bozos at the center of the inanity. Brooks himself is maybe the dumbest of the bunch, as the crosseyed Governor Petomane, but it's no coincidence that he is also the funniest.

Many would suggest this is a Mel Brooks comedy in Western clothing, but that isn't giving "Blazing Saddles" enough credit. The film's takedown of White and hyper-masculine desire for wealth and power is directly prodding at the genre's life force, which ages poorly to this day. Centering the Black Sheriff Bart (Cleavon Little) as the protagonist makes this satire all the more transparent and absurd, elevated even further by Gene Wilder's dry and sardonic wit as Jim The Waco Kid. Though co-writer Andrew Bergman's concept began as merely an anachronistic Western, it somehow evolved into a remarkably brazen comedy of errors that exposes the genre's many weak spots. Then again, sometimes a good roast can make you love something's flaws even more. Capped off by a final meta-sequence that defies description, "Blazing Saddles" embodies the Western as effectively as any other film in the genre.