Underrated 1970s Western Movies That Flopped but Are Worth Watching

Westerns have long been reliable moneymakers. If the genre had not produced a steady stream of profitable films, studios would never have turned out so many of them—particularly during the middle of the 20th century. Still, not every cowboy movie became a box-office sensation. Modern examples such as “A Million Ways to Die in the West” and “The Lone Ranger” lost substantial sums, but even some Westerns now regarded as classics struggled financially when they first reached theaters.

That tension was especially pronounced in the 1970s. The decade delivered several successful Westerns, yet it was also a difficult period for the genre as new styles of filmmaking began reshaping the mainstream. Although Westerns suffered commercially, the creative freedom of the era allowed directors to experiment with fresh perspectives and unconventional storytelling. These five 1970s Western flops demonstrate both the genre’s financial struggles and its artistic ambition during a decade overshadowed by films such as “Star Wars” and “Jaws.”

There is no single explanation for why these films failed at the box office, just as no one quality alone explains why they later earned critical respect. Together, however, they reveal a recurring truth about American cinema’s transformation: artistic achievement did not always translate into popular success.

A breakout performance in one major film is no guarantee that an actor’s next starring vehicle will draw the same crowds. Margot Robbie’s enormous success with “Barbie,” for example, did not turn 2025’s “A Big Bold Beautiful Journey” into a hit. Likewise, Chris Hemsworth’s memorable role in “Avengers: Endgame” could not keep “Men in Black: International” from underperforming. Peter Fonda encountered that same unpredictability decades earlier when he followed the 1969 cultural phenomenon “Easy Rider” with another Western.

“Easy Rider” had captured the public imagination, but that did not mean audiences were ready to see every project led or directed by Fonda. In 1971’s “The Hired Hand,” he plays Harry Collings, a man whose attempt to reclaim his former life after years away begins to unravel. The film struggled badly in theaters. As noted in the 1990 book “Box Office Champs: The Most Popular Movies of the Last Fifty Years,” other Westerns—including “Little Big Man,” which opened during the final nine days of 1970—performed far better.

Although “The Hired Hand” was out of step with what moviegoers wanted in 1971, its striking visual style and other strengths helped it endure. Martin Scorsese has even called the film a masterpiece. In the end, Fonda did find an accomplished follow-up to “Easy Rider”—just not one that audiences immediately embraced.

Hollywood could probably use more films with “ballad” in the title. The word has an inherent poetry, promising viewers something more distinctive than a routine adventure. Unfortunately, the box-office performance of “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” did little to encourage the industry to follow that example. Directed by Sam Peckinpah, the 1970 film arrived only a year after his landmark “The Wild Bunch.” While that earlier Western stunned audiences with its excess and intensity, “Cable Hogue” moved between tones and frequently favored restraint.

That unusual approach failed to connect with theater audiences, who were not given the kind of Western they expected. “The Wild Bunch” had offered an oversized, blood-soaked version of the genre’s familiar pleasures, whereas “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” was far more complicated in tone. Critics, however, responded warmly, and their appreciation has lasted. Peckinpah’s inventive treatment of the Western and the film’s memorable performances have helped secure “Cable Hogue” a strong reputation despite its weak commercial showing.

The year 1972 produced many of the films later included among the 95 best movies of the 1970s, making it an especially important period for American cinema. It was also a banner year for Westerns. The arrival of “Jeremiah Johnson” and “Buck and the Preacher” alone cemented the year’s place in the genre’s history. Yet even in such an artistically successful season, not every Western became a financial winner.

Consider “Ulzana’s Raid,” directed by the legendary Robert Aldrich. Burt Lancaster stars as McIntosh, who joins Ke-Ni-Tay (Jorge Luke) and Lt. Garnett DeBuin (Bruce Davison) in pursuing an Apache warrior named Ulzana. The mission unfolds into a punishing examination of the genocidal violence inflicted on Indigenous people by American settlers. Those bleak themes gave the film considerable artistic power, but they also made it far less accessible than the more conventional Westerns competing for audiences in 1972.

The same qualities that may have kept moviegoers away at the time have fueled the film’s later critical standing. Lancaster’s performance is widely regarded as one of his finest, while the story’s depiction of settlers’ brutality toward Indigenous communities remains painfully relevant.

Reviewing the 1970 film “Monte Walsh,” Roger Ebert noted that it belonged to a wave of contemporary Westerns defined by a darker mood and the sense that the cowboy era was disappearing. That melancholy perspective became a defining feature of the genre as the 1970s began, perhaps reflecting changing tastes among moviegoers. With the New Hollywood movement reshaping American film, directors increasingly used Westerns to confront a world in transition rather than simply celebrate the mythology of the frontier.

Even its powerful sense of loss could not rescue “Monte Walsh” commercially. The film failed to recover its $5 million production budget. It never approached the financial success of the biggest Western ever made, yet it earned a place among the genre’s most admired box-office disappointments. Its thoughtful, almost existential atmosphere continues to attract viewers, and the exceptional cast—particularly Lee Marvin in a deeply affecting lead performance—has strengthened its legacy.

More than five decades after “Monte Walsh” debuted, its themes remain familiar. People still confront mortality and the unsettling feeling that the world is moving on without them. As long as those anxieties endure, the 1970 film will continue to inspire the kind of devotion Roger Ebert felt for it.

Success was not guaranteed for stars who emerged from late-1960s counterculture hits before taking the lead in 1970s Westerns. Warren Beatty’s 1967 breakthrough, “Bonnie and Clyde,” became a sensation by reflecting the rebellious spirit of a generation challenging authority. His second film after that landmark success was “McCabe & Mrs. Miller,” Robert Altman’s unconventional and revisionist take on the Western.

As author Peter Biskind noted in his book “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock ‘N Roll Generation Saved Hollywood,” one of the many ways “McCabe & Mrs. Miller” subverted audience expectations for the Western was in its ending, which covered the marketable Beatty’s dead face in snow. This approach upended the star-driven nature of Westerns up to that point, which were all about wringing every possible dollar out of, say, John Wayne’s craggy countenance. 

Alas, neither those idiosyncratic qualities nor Beatty’s post-“Clyde” reputation saved “McCabe & Mrs. Miller” from falling over at the ticket counter. Though it lost a good chunk of change in its initial theatrical release, those unusual artistic flourishes have kept “McCabe & Mrs. Miller” lingering around as one of Altman’s all-time masterpieces.