Halyna Hutchins served as the cinematographer for the Western film, “Rust,” which follows an outlaw trying to save his grandson from being hanged for murder when he turns twelve. In October 2021, Hutchins died when Alec Baldwin, the movie's star and co-producer, shot what was thought to be an empty prop gun. Baldwin’s mistake discharged a bullet that claimed Hutchins’ life and wounded Joel Souza, the film’s writer and director. Production commenced two years later, with the blessing of Hutchins’ widower Matthew, who had unclear motives as he was credited for producing the film.
Baldwin, along with other significant figures involved with "Rust", faced civil and criminal lawsuits, although none resulted in actual convictions. The first assistant director who gave Baldwin the weapon was charged with reckless violation of firearms regulations, and the armorer was sentenced to 18 months for manslaughter without intent. Baldwin was able to drop his case of involuntary manslaughter by arguing that prosecutors and police “intentionally and deliberately withheld” evidence which bolstered his defense.
This probably isn't how most film reviews start: “Rust” stands out from all others because it is tragic. It is yet another addition to the long list of productions that have cost lives. Hutchins' wide-format cinematography utilizes shadows, lens flares, cigarette smoke, and even industrial landscapes that reduce men and horses to mere specks. While her work is unique, it still shows a deep understanding of textures, iconic images from the history of Western cinema, including the smoke-and-amber interiors of “McCabe and Mrs. Miller,” John Ford’s sweeping vistas, the muddy, small-town streets of Sam Peckinpah and Walter Hill, and the much cited final shot of “The Searchers” (twice referenced in “Rust,” once with a woman in the foreground)
Cinematography is all that “Rust” has going for it. “Rust” is constructed around the bombardment of scenes and periods by other great films with embedded westerns. And even if “Rust” is presented as a flat-out masterpiece, no life should ever be sacrificed for art. Not unless someone decides it.
“Rust” begins with 12-year old Lucas Hollister (Patrick Scott McDermott) looking after his older brother and managing the family farm all by himself after the death of their mother; it evolves into a leisurely yet strenuous intergenerational bonding road movie when his grandson Rust (Baldwin) seeks to rescue him from hanging for the murder of a neighbor getting his revenge for the death of his son’s tormentor, which hearkens back to his days as a well known outlaw. Now Rust wants to take him to Mexico.
This plot is intertwined with Sheriff Wood Helm (Josh Hopkins) who also has an ongoing existential crisis after losing faith in God due to his son’s terminal illness. Things only take a dramatic turn for the worse when Rust ultimately breaks into the jail to rescue his grandson, shooting two of Wood's deputies in the process.
"I learned a long time ago that there ain't a God; would have been nice to have been wrong,” Wood tells his best friend, the local saloonkeeper (the always-excellent Abraham Benrubi, formerly of television's “E.R.,” now easing into the more mature character actor phase of his career). It’s easy to dismiss the quiet allure of Hopkins because he plays it so earnestly and so much of-the-ear, so it would have been captivating to see how “Rust” would have been elevated if he had donned the lead role.
One of them is the most intimidating of the bounty hunters in competition for capturing Rust and Lucas for the $1000 bounty. If you are familiar with the classic thriller “The Night of the Hunter” or even a single still from it, you would recognize the self-professed preacher, who is indisputably one of the most iconic evil characters of all time in the film, ripped off and dumped into “Rust.” In the film, he is portrayed by Travis Fimmel (“Vikings,” “Raised By Wolves”) in a more subtle form than the movie merits, and goes by Preacher. He adorns black clothing, quotes the Bible, and performs obnoxious public displays of his mental and emotional struggle of his so-called faith. However, unlike the Midwestern character, he lacks the “LOVE” and “HATE” tattoos scrawled on his knuckles. Perhaps collecting the bounty was a prerequisite for the ink.
About Baldwin the actor: It is ironically strange that “Rust” was the project that almost ruined his career because he, along with Souza, ended up forming the story of the movie. Nonetheless, there is no escaping the fact that Alec Baldwin as a tough old gunfighter was not good casting. There is a line validating Rust’s childhood in Chicago, likely to ensure that the audience does not question why the character lacks the traits of a natural-born countryman. Nevertheless, Baldwin does not have the face, the voice, or most astoundingly, the energy required for the movie. The role needs a person who, when a boy asks, “Who are you?” can say, “This ain’t no game, boy. I say we ride, we ride, I say we eat, we eat, I say we sleep, we sleep, that’s who I am,” and be believable enough so you do not end up rolling your eyes into oblivion.
With regards to the other errors, the clothing and footwear that was selected does not appear to fit the situation.
The movie is composed of a number of quite well-defined stand alone scenes and sequences which might come off as theatrical—and not simply because the dialogue feels delivered, like in a book, some of which verges on an acting puzle. “Rust” seems to be vacillating between an indie film- raw and gritty with rugged down-to-earth characters, or a Hollywood extravaganza with emotional Oscar baiting monologue for each lead actor in one fluid motion, which could get them shot from a revolver and let them fly backwards as though the shot came from a borderline Terminator.
A number of them feature Frances Fisher, who was once married to Eastwood and played the whore in “Unforgiven,” where she casts a well-tailored Lucas’s aunt turned up and introduced herself while exuding an air of uneasiness and distrust. And there is also an encounter towards the finale which gives brilliant character actor Xander Berkeley the opportunity to portray an exceedingly self-assured, and skeletally vulgar, and darkly hilarious heavy of an Eastwood western.
Sadly, with the exception of the one focused on Rust and Lucas, none of these three intertwining narratives and their main characters are developed well enough to include all of them, and even the rest could’ve done without one or two scenes of the protagonists escaping death. (It's two hours and eighteen minutes long, and it feels longer.) McDermott is wonderful as the frail, kind-hearted, and far-too-old-for-his-age Lucas and you can feel the weight of the burdens he carries. You can imagine the pain behind his eyes, and you can accept that, yes, he had to endure suffering the way “Every available old man on the prairie” tells the story. That said, it is difficult to evaluate this film's merits and flaws in light of the real-life catastrophe. The magnitude of grief stifles any rational argument.
Baldwin admits he did not feel anything when he said a life was lost — that is, someone died — under his supervision, offering no semblance of authentic sorrow, empathy, or regret, characterizing Hutchins’ death as a tragic event which quite inconveniently exacerbated his insomnia and impeded his ability to secure employment. Now blend that insensitivity with an ensemble depicting an accidental discharge of a firearm, with almost nonstop shooting and making sure guns are loaded. “I wish I’d never written that movie,” the director said. “I was busy hitting myself with a frying pan.” He also lamented not watching Baldwin's family unscripted series about navigating the aftermath of the shooting with his wife Hilaria.
When people get to watch “Rust” without the memories of the on-set shooting chaos, perhaps that day will arrive, and the film will be reevaluated with the detachment that it so desperately needs to not want more.
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