The Homesman initially establishes itself as a Western in the genre’s classical tradition, flexing its visual muscles with the glossy vistas which offer an exquisite backdrop for the film’s opening credits and a straightforward parade of the genre’s iconographic landscapes. But soon enough, director and star Tommy Lee Jones takes us a step further than Westerns of the past have done, into a world fraught, not just with the general conflicts of ‘Cowboys and Indians’ or rogue vigilantes, but psychological trauma, ethical crises and the cruel realities of human nature. It is a film which pulls no punches and is all the more admirable for not doing so, even if Jones isn’t ultimately able to keep atop the tightrope of his narrative, which hangs above a void of pacing issues, flawed writing and confused structuring, all of which keeps the film from reaching the heights one suspects it could have achieved.

In a remote Nebraskan territory, Mary Bee Cuddy (Hilary Swank) toils away alone on a farm in a small community, dreaming of the husband who has so far eluded her. Mary herself is not averse to proposing marriage to those she barely has any relationship with, hoping to secure her future financially and produce the children she clearly desires. Three unrelated women within the community, however, have fallen disastrously ill and have suffered something of a mental breakdown, leaving them unable to function within the homes they keep with their husbands, who have grown increasingly detached from and even abusive towards their disturbed partners. In many ways, these three women (played with heartbreaking conviction by Grace Gummer, Miranda Otto and Sonja Richter) appear to bear the direct consequences of the intense and reductive demands put upon them by their spouses: to provide children, to maintain the upkeep of their homes and to be doting wives. In a series of devastatingly executed scenes, we see these women, raped, exact self-harm and in the apparent throes of postpartum depression, neglect and even kill their children.

Cuddy is soon nominated by the few members of the community to take these three women across the state to the haven of Iowa, where there is a church equipped to care for women suffering from breakdowns of this type. Regardless of whether the trio’s insanity acts as something of an exaggerated metaphor for the hardships endured by women during this period within the American west, examining the role of women within such male-dominated environments as Meek’s Cutoff did so effectively back in 2010, The Homesman seems to shift focus entirely once Tommy Lee Jones’ character, George Briggs, is introduced.

An aging military deserter and low-life who is introduced to us squatting in an abandoned house, only to be left to die by a group of vigilantes who come to reclaim the property, Briggs is the epitome of the Western anti-hero, but decades removed from his undoubtedly youthful prime. It is Cuddy who comes across Briggs, left tied up with a noose around his neck, sat on a horse he attempts to keep in the same position, being the only thing that separates him from death. Saving him from this fate, Cuddy requests that Briggs join her for the journey she is about to undertake. Briggs begrudgingly accepts this proposal and accompanies Cuddy across the state. What follows is a semi-mythic odyssey which sees the pair journey across the countryside, tackling each obstacle as it comes.

One simply can’t fault the performances in The Homesman, which features a brilliant cast that also boasts the likes of John Lithgow, James Spader and Meryl Streep (real-life mother of Grace Gummer) alongside it’s magnificent lead pairing of Jones and Swank. It’s unexpected transition from second to third act, however, leaves more than a bitter taste in the mouth, and raises far more questions than the film’s already bare-bones narrative can cope with. Without giving away the particular plot point in question, the sudden realignment of the film’s central driving force, still does make for some interesting episodes. A sequence in which Briggs burns a hotel to the ground for not accommodating the convoy, for example, is exquisite in its careful subtlety; Briggs visibly takes no pleasure in the act, but does so only to conform to what is expected of him. He is a character without purpose, uncertain of how his unexpected acquaintance with Cuddy and her strong principles has affected him, but ready to alter his character because of her. Ultimately though, The Homesman is a film which, whilst offering some compelling moments and captivating performances, never seems to rise above the fundamental narrative issues and thematic confusion which the third act prompts.