If you're interested in the topic at hand, you should just watch it and judge yourself because the reviews have gone very biased by people that didn't even watch it and just hate (or love) the creator. I liked it, it was well written, narrated, and directed and it was about a topic that interests me.

The thing I enjoyed most about the film is the fact that it doesn't shy away from being a super-sized-cliche;

Great example of an old-fashioned, pure-at-heart escapist event movie that doesn't pretend to be anything that it's not and has boat loads of fun being its own ludicrous self.

There is, somehow, an interesting story here, as well as some good acting. There are also some good scenes

I saw this film for the first time last night on TCM,who were showing Andy Griffith films after his recent death, and was mildly amused. But reading the other reviews here you would have thought that it was much funnier and had more to say about old Hollywood,and B westerns, than it actually did. Although young Jeff Bridges is mildly amusing I don't think I actually laughed out loud once,and his character as written is so obtusely naive it's hard to believe He would ever survive his first experience lost in the desert,much less excel in the film business. The other point of the film seems to be pulling back the curtains on the fact that B western cowboys weren't really cowboys and they couldn't act either. But is this really something that was a hidden conspiracy? It really doesn't have much to say,and it doesn't go anywhere, I kept waiting for it to be better and more interesting,but it never got there.I do think it was worth watching once,but it's not one that I want to watch repeatedly. You can,however,see the glint of Gwyneth Paltrow in Blythe Danners' eye!

The mid-70's saw a misguided false nostalgia for early Hollywood. I'd like to think it was on account of the last few octogenarian (and up) moguls dying off (Samuel Goldwyn died at 94 in '74, Jack L. Warner passed in the fall of '78 at 86, Darryl F. Zanuck, ill with Alzheimer's, dying in '79) and that the younger turks sensed something. Unfortunately what spewed forth was mostly crap: Gable and Lombard, W.C. Fields and Me, the dull interpretations of The Great Gatsby, The Last Tycoon, and the cinematic nadir: Won Ton Ton the Dog that Saved Hollywood... a film so utterly awful that they must've thought Rin Tin Tin would sue. Nickelodeon belongs in there somewhere too. But along the way there were a few minor gems, namely, underrated The Day of the Locust (particularly for Burgess Meredith's performance) and Hearts of the West, which I saw in a theater in Portland it's brief release. I don't think it rated a week's screen time. Inarguably, the plot's thin stuff, but Jeff Bridges' Lewis Tater ranks as his best pre-Starman turn as an actor. He took naiveté to an entirely new plateau. Andy Griffith delivers a nice performance as an amiable, if duplicitous character actor who's descended into a life in poverty row oaters. The then-50-year old Griffith had just recovered from a serious medical condition and hadn't been seen in a feature film since a 1969 flop, Angel in My Pocket. Griffith here is far, far removed from anyone's image of Sheriff Andy Taylor. The supporting cast is superb, especially Alan Arkin who captures the essential cheapness of a Gower Gulch producer/director... he seems to be based on Mascot's Nat Levine. Don't look for the picture to go much of anywhere, just enjoy the ride. I liken the experience very similar to 1982's Cannery Row; you know you've seen better pictures, but you never somehow enjoyed one more and you don't exactly know why.

What a likable farm galoot Jeff Bridges makes. His Lewis Tater wants to be a Western writer and by golly neither pursuing crooks, nor double-crossing buddies, nor phony correspondence schools are going to stop him. Like his literary alter-ego The Kid, he's just too eager to get discouraged. Across burning deserts and thundering hoofs, he soldiers on toward fame and fortune and Hollywood and Vine.And what a hoot his purple prose is. Like an amiable Walter Mitty, minor events get spun into major events for "The Kid" in such deathless passages as, "Twirling, The Kid fired with all he had into the phantom riders", or " A Colt in either hand, he scattered lead at the retreating dust." What a great sleeper movie this is, thanks to the comical Bridges and some unerring light touches. Take for example the cheap Western they're filming. Catch how a groaning Lewis steps on the big romantic clinch, or how his curtain-chewing death throes put the director (Arkin) into a murderous tizzy. But I especially like that awkward little turn on the sidewalk where he brushes against the potted palm and wins the affection of Miss Trout (Danner).The movie's also a telling look at the making of matinée Westerns, a staple of kids' viewing in the 1930's and 40's. As a former Front Row kid, I viewed those parts with mixed emotions. I guess I still want those guys to be real cowboys and not the shrewd businessmen-actors they likely were.Anyhow, in my little book, this is a little gem from beginning to end, with scarcely a misstep along the way. It never ceases to amaze me that the Hollywood-bred Bridges (his dad was veteran actor Lloyd Bridges) can play such a convincing hayseed, but he can. Speaking of hayseeds, watch for a very unMayberry Andy Griffith, again showing what a fine, versatile actor he is. I'm just sorry this style of clever low-key comedy has given way to today's frantic bathroom kind. Maybe Hollywood needs to hire more Lewis Tater's, after all.

Jeff Bridges plays a smiling farm boy in 1929 Iowa, harboring dreams of writing Western prose, who journeys to Nevada and inadvertently becomes involved with a movie troupe making talking pictures. Howard Zieff, a TV commercial director with one film (1973's wacky "Slither") behind him, was poised for great things, yet this second feature of his barely gets off the ground. Working from a wordy screenplay by new writer Rob Thompson, Zieff is able to add little bits and pieces of his eccentric style and personality, but the 'plot' (such as it is) fails to deliver on its promises. Opening with the 1930s-styled M-G-M lion, Zieff begins the picture with Bridges' screen test...and then jumps awkwardly back in time without explanation. It takes another 20 minutes for the film to get a big, juicy scene (Bridges volunteering to do a dangerous stunt--jumping onto a horse from a second story balcony); in the interim, the picture idles about dealing with two unsavory characters who are chasing after stolen money. The on-screen movie folk (featuring Alan Arkin as director, Blythe Danner as the script girl, and Andy Griffith as an aging cowboy actor) are a fun bunch, though Zieff allows this part of the film--which should have been the picture's meat and potatoes--to dribble away. Bridges gambles on his salary and gets himself fired, but we don't know if he was duped or simply given bad advice. Worse, the early-1930s atmosphere isn't well-captured, and Bridges at this point had little range. *1/2 from ****