It’s difficult to imagine how a late-nineteenth-century Wild West narrative about gunslingers and betrayal could be so empty of thrill and produced with such shoddy craftsmanship, but that’s exactly what writer/director Justin Lee’s Apache Junction is. It’s a Western in which practically every scene drags on for 5 minutes or more, delivering narrative developments, exposition, or facts that should have been conveyed in 30 seconds or less with a dash of energy. No one expects country singer Trace Adkins and Stuart Townsend to deliver ground-breaking performances, but everyone here appears tired and lifeless. Apache Junction is a torturously slow and meandering timepiece.
The story revolves around San Francisco Examiner journalist Annabelle Angel (Scout Taylor-Compton) entering the titular lawless land, which holds some promise at first. Men and women alike gaze at her as soon as she enters the scene, unsure what would lead someone independent and proper to a location where the majority of women are prostitutes or dehumanized in some way. The juxtaposition of an empowered person with such harsh living conditions is an appealing notion, and the plot does allow Annabelle to use the gun on occasion, but her investigative integrity and purpose largely take a second to men killing each other off. IMDB