Critics are lavishing plenty of praise upon True Grit, but few are willing to predict a true return of the western. As any pipe-smoking dad knows, many of the greatest films ever involved six-shooters, spurs, horses and broads belles. So, in an effort to kickstart a revival, 20/20 Filmsight has rounded up some essential westerns that’ll get the gents chewing tobacco and the ladies swinging their parasols. What follows isn’t necessarily a list of the best films in the genre, but these are all worthy of your attention.

The Magnificent Seven has in more recent years become known as the Hollywood version of Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai, which is a bit of a shame because this is a quality film in its own right, packed full of gun slinging and star power (it also ignores the fact that Kurosawa’s film was itself a descendent of early American westerns). One of the last positive-minded Hollywood films about American adventurism abroad, The Magnificent Seven produced three sequels, as well dozens of imitations. Brynner, McQueen, Bronson, Vaughn and Coburn: a hard bunch to stay away from.

Forget revision: The Wild Bunch is pretty much 145 minutes of ruthless western deconstructionism. Released into a late 60s environment brimming with anti-Vietnam discord, the film polarised audiences via its epic bloodshed. It might kick like a mule, but that tends to overshadow the fact that The Wild Bunch is built upon a compelling script, courtesy of Walon Green.

I remember Dave O’Connell labelling the modern interpretation of 3:10 to Yuma as ‘muscular’. That’s a great way to sum up this 2008 feature, which rises above the pack with some sharp screenwriting and adept handling of action. Australian readers should ignore the panning it received locally upon local release, a misunderstanding down in part to some confusing billing: it’s Christian Bale’s Rancher Evans whom the film follows, as he strives to secure his farm, as well as the respect of his son, by delivering outlaw Ben Wade (Aussie Russell Crowe) to the authorities.

Sergio Leone’s Dear John to the western, Once Upon a Time in the West is perhaps the only film that recounts the death of its own genre, effortlessly flipping the regular conventions on their head. Epic in scope, measured in pace and brutal in its action, Once Upon a time is also the western that classicists, revisionists and spaghettios can all seem to agree on, perhaps by default making it the greatest ever.

‘Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.’ Thus Clint Eastwood summed up his own revionist take on the western, the gnarled and morally doomed William Munny dispatching Gene Hackman’s tyrannical Little Bill. The Unforgiven led to a renaissance for the genre in the 90s, but none of the films it inspired had the willingness to poke around their own genre like this slow-burning piece of bitter brilliance.

If The Wild Bunch was a reaction against the Vietnam War, High Noon was a filmmaker’s early 50s stand against McCarthyism. Described by the politically out of touch John Wayne as the most un-American movie he’d ever seen, High Noon is a film about social and private responsibility, and in a sense, a western for people who don’t like westerns. Regardless, town marshal Wil Kane’s (Gary Cooper) countdown to the arrival of the Miller gang is one of the most frightening in cinema history.

The oddball nature of The Quick and the Dead was enough to curve ball many people into letting it pass by. That’s their loss, because this is a sharp, post-modern take on the western, given lashings of style courtesy of Sam Raimi and DOP Dante Spinotti (best known for his work with Michael Mann). Despite its stylish leanings, this also has some interestingly drawn characters. If you can handle Sharon Stone, Russell Crowe and Leonardo DiCaprio – three of the more divisive figures in modern cinema all in the same flick – then you should check this out.

One of the poster boys for the rise of Korean cinema, The Good, the Bad, the Weird certainly isn’t the greatest western you’ll ever see, but in terms of pure spectacle it’s hard to top. This is a film with very little story but built around some truly spectacular set pieces. Its characters barely register and proceeds sag badly towards the end as our trio (‘The Good’ – Jung Woo-Sung, ‘The Bad’ – Lee Byung-hun, ‘The Weird’ – Song Kang-ho) are pursued by the late 30s Japanese army across the Korean peninsula, but The Good, the Bad, the Weird is worth it just on the strength of its ‘diving bell helmet’ scene.

Released the same year as The Wild Bunch, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid took a different route in its revisionism, playing the death of the cowboy for laughs rather than ruthless violence. Still, no matter how charming and likeable they are, Butch and Sundance are outlaws and there’ll be no avoiding their fate. Featuring perhaps both the scariest cliff jump AND the greatest final frame ever screened, as well as two of the most charming leading men in history, this is a film audiences understandably fall in love with.

The definitive spaghetti western and probably the definitive horseback role for Clint Eastwood, it’s hard to believe now that The Good, the Bad and the Ugly was panned by critics upon its initial release. Regardless, discussing the best is one thing but discussing favourites is often another, and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is many a film nerd’s most cherished western. Set during the Civil War, the titular trio’s quest for stolen gold often takes place against a deliriously chaotic background. Absolutely peerless filmmaking.

Giving a whole new meaning to the revisionist western, Blazing Saddles is also one of the greatest American comedies ever committed to screen. Directed by Mel Brooks and co-written by Richard Pryor, the fact that the film ever appeared out of the Warner Bros. studio is something of a minor miracle, although the crafty Brooks had ensured from the outset that he would have control of the final cut. If there were any remaining myths about the Wild West, Brooks skewered them with this lewd satire on the racism obscured by traditional frontier storytelling.