Saw a sneak preview of 3:10 to Yuma the other night. It’s a remake with Russel Crowe and Christian Bale in the lead roles of criminal and man who has to bring him to the train station at a certain time that I don’t recall, respectively. In attendance were Ben Foster (the “son” in the “I love my flying gay son” metaphor from X3) and Peter Fonda (no flying gay metaphors).

Usually when I come to these things I’m the first one out of the gate with Q&A. It’s almost like a hobby and a substitute, I think, for getting an autograph, which just seems awkward. For some reason, though, faced with movie legend Peter Fonda, I was all, “I got nuthin’, dude.” So, I listened.

Peter was all decked out in sunglasses and jacket and looked like a rock star. Ben, the young hipster, presumably up-and-coming rock star of the two, looked more like that guy you see every Tuesday in the coffee shop on his laptop. You’re all like, “Was he my T.A. in English Lit?”

Both were very cool.

The most interesting moment for me came when someone asked the inevitable “method” question of Ben, and he described how he got into the mindset of the totally bad-ass gunslinger he plays. He talked about how he studied desert predators, especially mountain lions, and how they moved their bodies but not their heads when stalking. It’s a weird observation but it totally works and when you see how he moves on screen it captures that creepy, almost otherworldly calm you get from your garden variety bad-ass.

It reminds me of a friend who met Ray Park and complimented him on his performance in The Phantom Menace, saying that the way he paced in the scene where Darth Maul is separated from Qui Gon by a plot contrivance, er, laser screen, reminded him of a lion stalking its prey. Park said that’s exactly what he was going for after seeing a lion pace back and forth in its cage, eyeing the tasty morsel (him) on the other side.

The movie itself is good, but nowhere near as great as director James Magnold’s last film, Walk the Line, admittedly a tough act to follow. Russel Crowe in particular is astonishing, if for no other reason than his consistent ability to bring his A-game to every damn role. He’s one of the few living actors who could outshine Bale, although the script does him plenty of favors there. Foster is especially creepy as the aforementioned bad-ass Smithers to Crowe’s Burns.

Oh, and much love to Firefly vet Alan Tudyk, who’s found his way into yet another supporting role this year, along with Knocked Up and Death at a Funeral. He has one very Tudyk-ian moment in this film; and if you see it, you’ll know what I mean.