When you picture a western, you picture a cowboy. John Wayne, the Duke. Clint Eastwood, the Man With No Name. The name itself, cow-boy, emphasises the masculine quality of this genre.
Westerns are a genre that was at its peak in Hollywood’s Golden and Silver age. They began to fall out of fashion by the end of the 1960s as New Hollywood dawned. None of this is new information, but with the period of the Western’s dominance in mind and the stars most closely associated with the genre, it’s no surprise that finding strong female characters within the films, especially lead characters, can provide slim pickings.
That isn’t to say Westerns are devoid of women of consequence. In fact, that would be a disservice to some of the best characters in the genre, who deserve praise and attention to demonstrate the genre’s versatility beyond the silent gravitas of Wayne or Eastwood.
True Grit is probably the most obvious example of a Western with a female protagonist who plays an active role in the plot. In both the 1969 and 2010 films, the plot is set in motion by Mattie Ross (Kim Darby in ‘69 and Hailee Steinfeld in ’10) hiring Rooster Cogburn (Wayne in ‘69 and Jeff Bridges ‘10) to avenge the murder of her father.
Coogburn and Ross are certainly co-leads, but especially in the Coen Brothers’ remake, Ross is given so much narrative weight. Her emotional arc anchors the film to the point that it’s hard to deny that she is the character of greatest consequence in the film. The audience is invested in her and how someone as young as her navigates a violent world. The Coens’ penchant for letting violence play out in such an upfront and unglamourised manner makes the film’s bleak worldview weigh especially on Ross.
The juxtaposition of that violence and her forced maturity for her age makes it a great exploration of how the lawless violence of Westerns weighs upon a person, especially the type of character so rarely afforded more or at least equal screentime to men.
In the peak era for Westerns, despite there being no shortage of strong leading women, only one film stands out properly as a great Western with a definitive female lead: Nicolas Ray’s Johnny Guitar. Vienna (Joan Crawford) is a landowner hoping to prosper with the building of train tracks and the influx of population but is threatened by the prejudice of the local town.
Right from the beginning of the film, Crawford asserts her dominance over the male characters on both sides of the law and makes a stand to defend herself and the life she’s built. This is unusual for a Western; the typical protagonist, the titular Johnny Guitar (Sterling Hayden), is rendered comparatively passive and in service of her.
Of course, both iterations of True Grit and Johnny Guitar are directed by men. Female-directed Westerns are an even greater rarity than female-led ones.
Related: The representation of women in strong leads
Even when a filmmaker of great acclaim like Lynne Ramsay tried to make one with Jane Got a Gun. The film’s vaguely disastrous production saw Ramsay leave the project one day before shooting for unclear reasons. With her exit, the film resulted in a spectacular failure, despite being on paper a project with great potential initially.
The best example of a female-helmed Western that was successful is undoubtedly Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog. It’s a film that barely makes sense placed alongside other Westerns. There are none of the typical signifiers of the genre. These aren’t cowboys who shoot outlaws but instead actual cowboys, the kind who work on farms.
Campion plays with the incongruity of the film in its own genre, with a protagonist who thinks of himself as a rough and tough figure, but is making his more refined upbringing, by casting an actor who similarly feels out of place in Benedict Cumberbatch. The whole film fits into Campion’s oeuvre as a deconstruction of masculinity and an exploration of repressed sexuality that makes it a fascinating standout in the Western genre.
It’s a shame few genres are less vital now than the Western, as its clear there is significantly untapped potential to play with established archetypes and work with the kinds of characters not often afforded leading roles.
Even an example as radical as Django Unchained shows you can make a lead out of a character usually relegated to a minor role and make a success out of it. Yet, due to being a dead genre in some ways, the Western isn’t allowed to grow or evolve much at all now.
Rare instances like The Power of the Dog are glimpses into what could be, and one can hope that maybe a renaissance for the genre in the future could bring forth a new lineup of cowgirls to rival the duke or Man With No Name.
