The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford is a stunning work of art: powerfully tense and gracefully beautiful—this is cinematic poetry in motion. Set during the late 19th century, near the end of the infamous bandit outlaw Jesse James’ (Pitt) escapades, and hopefully the beginning of retirement from his life of crime and murder. This is a slow-burning psychological drama that dives into the minds of its characters, and at 160 minutes in length, you had better realize that fact before buying a ticket: this isn’t an action, pistol smoke filled shoot’em up western like 3:10 to Yuma. The Assassination of Jesse James is a meditative film about fame and celebrity, and the truth behind the legend. Director Andrew Dominik isn’t out to tell about how James became a legend, but rather how his legacy came to an end and what the general public’s reaction was afterwards. I think there is a general political undertone working underneath Dominik’s screenplay about a man who believes he’d be hailed as a hero, but instead condemned as a villain. Maybe I’m reading too deeply into it, but there may be more than a mere examination of past history within the film. Either way it’s not distracting in anyway to the film’s storyline and I doubt very few will actually pick up on this aspect unless they look long and hard.

Every aspect of this film simply oozes with Oscar gold; from the detailed sets and costumes to the haunting and mesmerizing musical score, done wonderfully by Warren Ellis and Nick Cave (I want the soundtrack, and I want it NOW.), but the one thing that absolutely stunned me was its photography. Shot by five-time Oscar nominated cinematographer Roger Deakins, whose previous work includes Jarhead, Fargo and The Shawshank Redemption, this is among the best of his work to date, and if this film doesn’t finally earn him that elusive Oscar, nothing will. Shot as though through a misty glass window or an ancient telescope, Deakins has opened a small peep hole into the past, and the visuals here suck us in and carries us back to an old, but familiar time, and the pervasive narration only adds to the feeling of the film’s documentation of history and psychological depths. The vast scenery is beautiful wide open landscapes and darkened forests; lit by oil lanterns and stained only with smoke—whether it’s from a chugging train, a puffing cigar or a recently fired pistol.

Okay enough about the Oscar worthy cinematography, what about the performances? They are just as equally captured as those vistas and snow covered fields. Brad Pitt is some kind of terrific in the role of Jesse James; both menacing (and nearly psychotic) when he needs to be, and also tenderly afraid; on the verge of paranoia that the men surrounding him may turn him into the authorities to collect a large bounty. But the one performance that left me in awe was that of 32-year-old Casey Affleck (brother of Ben) as Robert Ford; the cowardly 19-year-old who’s obsessed with the legendary tales of Jesse James, star-struck and eager to join in, alongside his hero in robbing a train one cold night. Affleck is a revelation, and undoubtedly worthy of--at the very least--an Oscar nomination. As the wide-eyed Ford, Affleck seems curiously, and endlessly fascinated in the mere shadow of Jesse James, but also at the same time, eerily pathetic—he is, after all, the snake in the grass that gets the best of James in the end.

As the film rolls along, Ford becomes the David standing in the footsteps of Goliath; and it takes just one shot to take down the giant, and it’s not that Ford got the drop on Jesse—it’s Jesse who willing fully (maybe even desperately) gives Ford that opportunity, like an unspoken secret the two of them know, but never acknowledged aloud. Most of the characters do the loudest speaking not with the lies and deceit that slips off of their tongues, but rather the truth that’s held in the deep gaze in their eyes. Often the film asks us to peer into the characters eyes to decipher the truth for ourselves. The plot is pretty much right there in the title, and with this film it’s not so much about the destination—we know exactly where we’re heading towards the moment we purchase our ticket—but rather the journey along the way. The Assassination of Jesse James may be a slow, long ride, but in the eyes of this movie-goer; it was ride I wanted to go on again the moment it concluded.