There’s nothing quite like a western where Kurt Russell takes on a tribe of cannibalistic Native Americans who don’t speak--but do howl like the Devil possessed. And if there’s nothing quite like it, there’s Bone Tomahawk, a simply awesome, holy-fuck kind of genre flick that will leave you grinning from ear to ear.

Unless you puke. Because puking from the gory, body-splitting finale is a possibility.

Bone Tomahawk is not your grandparents’ western. It’s arguably a horror movie disguised as a western, the villains being some truly warped individuals who just happen to be a “lost” tribe and the protagonists a group of frontiersmen who have no idea what they’re getting into. They are scary, vicious and brutal, and they want to eat your flesh. No barbeque sauce needed.

The movie is long--135 minutes--and not a whole lot happens for the first 100 of those minutes. And yet the movie is never slow, never boring, fueled by interesting characters played by good actors (Kurt Russell, Patrick Wilson, Matthew Fox and Richard Jenkins). Perhaps it’s interesting because you know the film is building to an unexpected and brutal climax.

Brutal.

If you like gore, and  you don’t mind waiting a while for it to come splashing over you, Bone Tomahawk is the movie you’ve been waiting for. It’s one of the most satisfying viewing experiences of the year, and sadly one of the most overlooked.

You’ll also never look at a flask the same way again.

Review by Erik Samdahl unless otherwise indicated.