The Kid (2019) Review – A Great Billy The Kid Tale

Westerns have returned to the story of Billy the Kid countless times, but The Kid approaches the legend from an unexpected angle. Rather than centering solely on the outlaw himself, director Vincent D’Onofrio frames the story through the eyes of a boy caught in the crossfire of myth and morality. The result is a smaller, more intimate Western — less concerned with spectacle, more focused on perspective.

The film follows Rio, played with surprising depth by newcomer Jake Schur. After killing his abusive father, Rio flees with his sister, trying to outrun both the law and the emotional fallout of what he’s done. Along the way, he finds himself orbiting two towering figures of Western folklore: Billy the Kid and Sheriff Pat Garrett.

Dane DeHaan’s Billy is volatile and magnetic. He plays him as both charming and unhinged — a young man intoxicated by his own reputation. There’s a reckless swagger to his performance, but also a simmering insecurity. This Billy isn’t just a gunslinger; he’s a myth in motion, aware of his own legend and leaning into it.

Ethan Hawke’s Pat Garrett is the counterweight. Stoic, deliberate, and visibly worn by the burden of duty, Hawke brings quiet authority to the role. He doesn’t play Garrett as a hero or a villain, but as a man navigating shades of gray. His presence grounds the film, offering a moral anchor in a world where right and wrong rarely stay separate.

But it’s Rio’s journey that gives the film its emotional pull. Schur carries the story with earnest vulnerability. Through his eyes, the audience witnesses the cracks beneath the myth. Billy the Kid becomes less a folk hero and more a man shaped by impulse. Pat Garrett becomes less a symbol of justice and more a human being making difficult choices. Rio’s internal struggle — who to trust, what kind of man to become — reframes the familiar legend as a cautionary tale.

D’Onofrio directs with restraint. The film doesn’t lean heavily into sweeping, postcard-ready vistas or extended shootouts. Instead, it favors tighter framing and quieter tension. Conversations matter as much as gunfire. Silence stretches long enough to feel uncomfortable. Violence, when it arrives, is sudden and impactful rather than operatic.

The supporting cast, including Chris Pratt as the vengeful Grant Cutler, adds texture without overwhelming the central story. Pratt plays against charm, delivering a darker edge that reinforces the film’s underlying tension.

What sets The Kid apart is its refusal to glamorize outlaw life. It acknowledges the allure of Billy’s charisma but never loses sight of the cost. Through Rio’s evolving perspective, the film questions whether legend is worth the damage it leaves behind.

The pacing is deliberate, occasionally uneven, but consistent with the film’s introspective tone. This isn’t a Western designed for bombast. It’s a story about influence — about how young minds are shaped by the examples placed before them.

In the end, The Kid works best as a character study wrapped in a familiar framework. It doesn’t reinvent the Western, nor does it try to outshine the mythology surrounding Billy the Kid. Instead, it shifts the lens, asking what those legends look like from the ground level.

A modest, thoughtful Western that trades grandeur for perspective. By focusing on the boy watching history unfold, The Kid offers a fresh glimpse at an old legend — and reminds us that growing up in the shadow of myth can be just as dangerous as facing a gun.