The Magnificent Seven is an awkward milestone in Hollywood's ongoing and urgent conversation about representation.
The most rousing moment in The Magnificent Seven comes after the action has already concluded, when the credits roll to the emphatic accompaniment of Elmer Bernstein's iconic 1960 score.
Traces of real history are hard to spot in Fuqua's Western, but there isn't much evidence of a real Western, either. You sense that an entire genre, far from being revitalized, is being plundered for handy tips.
If body count is what you go to Westerns for, by all means drift into this one's corral.
Fuqua's made two clean piles separating good and evil, and in doing so, he's thrown away the film's point.
"Magnificent" is pushing it, but "The Magnificent Seven" - the latest spin on the classic outlaw tale - comes in guns blazing, sweeps the town and gets the job done.
Inevitably, the movie spends a lot of time getting ready for the climactic showdown. But it's so chaotic and protracted as to lose much of its punch.
If the sight of Denzel Washington, guns blazing and saddled up for his first western, doesn't get your pulse racing, read elsewhere.
You could do worse than putting it all in the capable hands of Denzel Washington, with some help from Chris Pratt.