Few modern Western films have the timeless allure of George P. Cosmatos’ 1993 classic, Tombstone. The beloved box office darling was originally positioned as a rival to another Western released 6 months later — Wyatt Earp — but after Tombstone’s successful release, which saw Tombstone rake in almost $50 million more than Wyatt Earp, it was clear that Cosmatos’ film was the definitive Western flick of the 1990s. Despite some initial lackluster critical reviews, audiences adored the two-hour romp through the American West.
But what makes Tombstone so iconic? Obviously, the beloved fim is primarily supported by its outstanding cast. Kurt Russell perfectly captures the mysterious allure of Wyatt Earp, and Val Kilmer’s portrayal of Doc Holliday is incomparable. Every part of Tombstone is specifically designed to immerse the audience in its setting. However, the film’s climactic shootout is ultimately its most impressive crowning achievement.
Understanding the Set-Up to Tombstone’s Final Showdown
All but one of the mustaches in Tombstone are real. Jon Tenney (Sheriff Behan) had shaved for a previous role and could not regrow his facial hair in time for Tombstone.
Kevin Jarre was the film’s original director. After failing to produce timely results, he was fired and replaced by George Cosmatos.
Most of Tombstone’s filming occurred in Arizona.
Like its late box office rival, Wyatt Earp, Tombstone retells the story of the Wild West’s most polarizing lawman. It retreads the contentious local relations that led Earp to his most famed gunfight and the subsequent fallout.
Unlike the three-hour Earp epic, Tombstone condenses its story into a bite-sized fable. Cosmatos envisioned the film as a classic Western. Little of Earp’s colorful past is explored, limiting the folk figure to a classically “good” moral role. Likewise, Earp’s posse of bespoke lawmen are framed as the heroes, though their actions were less lauded by the contemporaneous press.
As with all Westerns, the film’s focus is unique. Whereas Wyatt Earp focused on its titular morally gray protagonist, Tombstone emphasized the relationship between Earp and Holliday. Though both figures are shown as definitive heroes, Cosmatos permitted glances at each man’s historically unsavory personality.
Of course, the film’s ultimate highlight is the pivotal shootout. The iconic battle marks the film’s midpoint, though it starts Tombstone’s closing act. Its narrative placement allows it to be both a climactic finale and a foreboding centerpiece. It solves the first half’s conflicts while introducing the film’s closing problems, preparing its cast for the vendetta ride. Notably, though the pivotal battle precedes the film’s final conflict, it’s one of Tombstone’s most iconic moments.
What Makes Tombstone’s Shootout So Iconic?
- Kurt Russell directed many of Tombstone’s most iconic scenes. Cosmatos credits the film’s success to Russell’s influence.
- Robert Mitchum was supposed to play Old Man Clanton, but a fall from a horse prevented him from having an active role in the film.
- Val Kilmer’s quick draw came from diligent practice, not a stuntman or practical effects.
At its core, Tombstone is an homage to classic Western film. It borrows from its predecessors and builds upon past successes. Cosmatos understood the genre’s many quirks and adapted an otherwise lengthy, meandering script into a classic. The highly technical action sequences are no different; they, too, exemplify the film’s genre-savvy core.
Yes, the shootout is a cinematic gem. Its exemplary execution is backed by a hefty budget and start-studded cast, after all. Money-wise, it was always destined for greatness. However, the practical elements are just a part of Tombstone’s success. At just over two minutes long, the film’s climactic conflict never pulls its punches. Raw action punctuates every moment, and there’s plenty of emotion thrown in for good measure.
Like many of the best Western shootouts, Tombstone relies on three central pillars: action, tension, and moderation. The action is obvious. The ricocheting gunshots are hard to miss. However, the latter two qualities are more subtle. The lengthy wind-up to the brief gunfight is the primary tension, although brief seconds of downtime punctuate the flurry of bullets. Those short breaks are also evidence of moderation, as they give the audience just enough time to process the action.
The Elements of a Perfect Western Shootout
- Kevin Jarre initially wanted David Bowie for Doc Holliday and Liam Neeson for Wyatt Earp.
- Tombstone’s actors contended with high heat and wild scorpions during filming, though these dangers likely heightened the film’s realism.
- Tombstone portrays its namesake town as a literally larger-than-life version of itself.
As action films trend ever closer to constant content, Tombstone is a comfortable transition film. It retains the slow-paced drama of its predecessors while embracing the high-budget action of its successors. Of the O.K. Corral’s roughly five-minute runtime, over half is dedicated to the Earp posse’s slow walk to Tombstone’s center.
Tension reigns supreme. The audience gets to feel as if they’re in the action. As townspeople press against nearby walls for cover, the protagonists march dauntlessly toward the narrative enemies. Their guns are never drawn, and their silence speaks louder than any modern script’s endless exposition.
Yet, when the action begins, the film remains reserved. It doesn’t swell on the subsequent gore and carnage. There are no close-ups of gaping wounds or rasping final words. Instead, Cosmatos emphasizes reality. The Cowboys drop where they stand. As in real life, there is no time to consider each death; every moment is a trigger pull away from death. Despite its massive budget, Tombstone holds steady and pulls its action inward, forcing the audience to focus on the life-or-death implications of each bullet.
Tombstone adheres to the genre’s most emphatic draw. It’s a straightforward narrative of good versus evil. The drama of the Western shootout isn’t linked to a melodramatic inner struggle or moral conundrum. It’s the adrenaline of the inherent action, a tribalistic cheering match for the protagonists. The slow build reels audiences deeper in and gives them a “team,” much like sports.
Note, too, how the entire shootout is treated as its own film; it has a narrative rise, apex, and fall. The drawn-out walk to the gunfight is the “rise.” The first half of Tombstone has built the motives, and the cinematic cruise to the town’s center lays the groundwork for what’s to come. The actual shootout is, of course, the “apex” or “climax,” and the recovery is the “fall.”
Unlike its less acclaimed competitor, Wyatt Earp, Tombstone shines as a genre-savvy homage to its roots. It understands what the audience wants and delivers. The entire film is a zeitgeist of Westerns, and the shootout is a remarkable amalgamation of the genre’s best qualities. In just a few minutes, Tombstone establishes itself as both a progressive cinematic vision and an affectionate retrospective. Each fleeting glance of action — from the heroes’ gunshots to the fleeing townspeople — is a visual spectacle within itself. Yet, at the same time, these parts form a cohesive and powerful whole.