Aaron Eckhart Takes on Modern Cattle Rustling in Thieves Highway

Cattle rustling isn’t a relic of the Old West — it’s a growing modern crime affecting ranchers across the American West, and it’s the driving force behind Thieves Highway, the new action-thriller starring Aaron Eckhart. In this episode of Writing the West, Eckhart joins director Jesse V. Johnson and writer Travis Mills to discuss the real-world inspiration behind the film, the enduring code of the western, and the responsibility of portraying a way of life still lived by working ranchers today.

Transcript

Cowboys & Indians: So, Jesse, start us off here. I’ve read that you’ve said Thieves Highway was born out of your shock at how widespread cattle rustling still is today. What was the moment when you realized this topic demanded to have a film?

Jesse V. Johnson: It happened in a couple of stages. I read the script, and it was a very, very original setting for an action movie because I hadn’t seen it before. As filmmakers, we’re always looking for a fresh way to tell a familiar story, and this backdrop was something I didn’t really know existed. I mean, I understood cattle rustling existed — I’d watched westerns growing up — but I wasn’t familiar with the modern reality of it.

There was something in the script — Travis and JD, who had been an Arizona Ranger, had built in these details, these really interesting motifs, that made it feel authentic. That’s what you’re always looking for: the magic sauce. It’s no longer just someone’s imagination or something based on other movies. There’s something real and tactile in it that jumps out and makes you go, wow, this is interesting.

These characters have real grievances. When I did my research before committing — Travis had given me the script and we were working together — I saw how passionate he was, and that drew me in. We both love westerns. Travis is an absolute walking encyclopedia of classic westerns, so I knew there was something there.

Then I dug into the research and discovered these incredible characters — stock detectives and cattle cops, men and women — who carry a gun, a pair of pliers, and a notepad, and are responsible for overseeing hundreds of thousands of square miles of farmland. Sometimes it’s one person, maybe two people, dealing with crimes often committed by desperate meth addicts, usually at night, with backup potentially hours away — if it can get there at all.

It’s hair-raising, and this is happening right now, in the 21st century. The fact that no one had made a movie about it seemed absurd to me. So, I dug in with all my claws and teeth and said, we have to make this.

I’d worked with Aaron before, and he lives on riverfront property in Montana with cattle. He understands this lifestyle from the ground up — places where cell phones don’t work, where Instagram followers don’t mean anything. All that matters is survival. If you make a mistake packing in the morning, you could die when the weather turns in the evening.

The script appealed to me immediately, and the more research I did, the more it became a passion project — which is dangerous, because you work for less money and less time — but it’s worth it. I’m incredibly proud of the work everyone did and hope I’ve done justice to Travis’s script and to the character Aaron created, which inspired everyone on set.

C&I: Thank you, Jesse. Travis, you’ve got a long history with westerns — I think you once famously made twelve in twelve months, which we’ll come back to later. Why was this a passion project for you, and what about this story sparked your interest as a writer?

Travis Mills: On some of my previous westerns, I met a guy named JD Pepper, who acted in small roles. We got to talking on set, and he told me cattle rustling is still a thing — which I didn’t know, and I think most people don’t. They think it’s the Old West, but he said, no, it happens all the time. He had worked as a livestock officer, so he started telling me stories.

I thought, okay, this is a movie. I started throwing ideas at him — what if it was a Die Hard-type situation, one lone cop versus these rustlers? And I’d ask, is this realistic? He’d say, no, that’s silly — don’t do that. Slowly, I pieced together a believable narrative with his help, making sure people who live in the heartland wouldn’t laugh at it.

With the popularity of modern westerns like the Taylor Sheridan stuff, it’s important that people who live this lifestyle watch the film and feel it reflects their world.

Jesse and I were working together in Hungary — he was directing, I was producing — and we were talking about Budd Boetticher, Anthony Mann, all those directors. I realized Jesse was the right director for the script, which at the time was called Range Detective. Very old-school. I gave it to him, and he loved it.

C&I: Aaron, Jesse mentioned your personal connection to the West, to cattle, and to the land. How did you get involved with the project, and did you feel a responsibility taking on a role that affects real people in the West? I think you’re on mute there, Aaron.

Aaron Eckhart: Sorry, guys — I’m new to all this. Yes, I do feel a responsibility. These are my neighbors. I live out among ranches. I have a ranch myself, I have cows, and I hear these stories all the time.

I was talking to a neighbor who’s a legacy rancher — he’s got about 10,000 acres — and I asked him if he ever had cows stolen. He said yes. Rustlers will pull up in a panel van on a county road in the middle of nowhere, load up a calf, take it to auction, sell it for cash, and buy drugs.

I’d just spoken to my local sheriff, and they’d arrested a few guys for exactly that. It’s happening. As more people move out West who don’t understand the old codes, that simple trust system is disappearing.

I enjoyed making the movie for that reason — and sure, running around hitting people and shooting people is always fun too.

C&I: Oh yeah, for sure. And Jesse, I’d love to turn toward the tone of this film. It struck me as gritty, contemporary — very authentic to what we’re seeing in the world today. Some of your other films have that real character-driven feel — Hell Hath No Fury, Chief of Station. How did you adapt your approach to this more contemporary crime story, especially one with a western edge to it?

Jesse V. Johnson: I don’t feel like I have a style. I would certainly never let anything egotistical guide a script or a film. I just try to make the best possible film I can — and in this case, it demanded research. We had to look into what these guys wore, what kind of trucks they drive, what kind of firearms they carried, how expert they are, how often they get into gunfights — if ever. You do the research, and that ultimately becomes the style of the movie. It’s dictated on a film-by-film basis.

There are techniques I carry from one picture to another — mainly immersing myself in the practicality of what’s going on. If we’re dealing with huge plots of land, you want to make sure you’re set up for that.

We had scenes where the camera, from the left edge of frame to the right edge of frame, covered over a mile — with actors inside it. This is a big stage. We’re going two miles to the trailers, to where the actors are coming from, to lunch. Everything becomes huge. The toys we’re playing with are three trucks towing cattle trailers — with cattle in them. So you’re playing with an enormous toy box: cows, horses, saddles, stuntmen, all of it.

That dictates where you put your camera. You’re not going to shoot it the same way you’d shoot an argument in a kitchen. So it comes across gritty, and it comes across like a throwback to a western, because that’s the palette you’re dealing with.

It’s very exciting. It was an honor to do this, but it takes an actor with a lot of energy because you’re covering real estate — so driven, so physical, so committed. Aaron was there every step of the way. Most of the shots in this movie felt like shot after shot where he’s running with a rifle, in cowboy boots, sprinting, jogging — never walking anywhere, always running.

And that takes it out of you. I mean, you see this in the movie. If he’s running three or four miles in the movie, he’s running those three or four miles to film it — mile and a half every setup. We’re filming from a truck, filming out of it.

The guns are real and practical. We had to wear earplugs — we’re shooting full loads. I blew my hearing out firing a 12-gauge to cue one of the gunfights. You get in there with actors and stuntmen — everything is rehearsed and choreographed, and it’s very safe — but if something goes wrong, you lose a finger, you lose an eye, you lose your hearing.

There are squibs going off, cows charging — Aaron’s always putting himself in the line of danger, standing in front of the cows, in with the cows, with the guns, in the fight scenes, not letting a stunt double take his place. That dictates the overall feeling of the film. I could take credit for it, but I’d be dishonest to take credit for it.

So that speaks to your question — how did I — 

C&I: Yeah. And Travis, going back to the script: I know you’re a western film buff, and I am too. Because it’s such a contemporary issue — but one that’s been pervasive throughout the history of the West — did you intend for the story to bridge the past and the present, as a modern thriller? Or did that come naturally with the topic?

Travis Mills: A film like Wind River worked really well because it incorporated all these themes Aaron’s talking about — the code of the West — in a modern setting, and I wanted to do something like that.

There’s a lot of potential to transfer the themes of the western, and even some of the western aesthetic, into a modern setting. And then you don’t have to deal with as many period elements, which makes production a little easier.

Jesse understood that. Jesse knows the work of Budd Boetticher and Sam Peckinpah — and he even quotes Peckinpah’s westerns a couple of times in the movie, if you caught it.

That theme of entering your house justified, having a moral code — and the interesting thing about villains, like the one Devin plays, is they have their own code too. Competing codes. All that’s intentional, and hopefully the audience appreciates it.

C&I: Thank you. And Aaron — like Jesse said, what struck me most, even just in the trailer, is how much physical action there is: violence, fighting. I’m sure you were worn out. But there are also moments of intense emotional weight, because your character is at the center of this world — sees all sides, sees victims. How did you balance the energy and physicality with the emotional side of the character?

Aaron Eckhart: What attracted me was the character. It’s a very lonely job. The West is lonely.

You have an older man who has no wife, has no family, lives by himself, and has a job where he travels. He’s out there with this code — probably one of the only people who still believes in it. It’s a code passed down generation to generation.

That loneliness drew me in: where he’s ended up in his life — Is he happy? Is he content? Does he want more? What happens if love comes into his life? A lot of men struggle with that question, and struggle with loneliness. That’s why people move into cities.

And then his partner — who’s ultimately murdered — he’s leaving him too. Life is transitory.

I like that loneliness of the West. It’s inherent in the American cowboy: a man on his horse, with his gun, on the prairie. And that’s disappearing.

So yeah, the film has a lot of action, but it needs a counterweight. That was what I liked about it.

C&I: Wow. Well said. Jesse, you’ve directed Aaron before, and you’ve said you thought immediately of him for this role. What made you confident he was the right guy, and what did Aaron bring that maybe no one else could?

Jesse V. Johnson: There was so much I felt Aaron would understand about Frank inherently — and be sympathetic with — flaws and all.

But the key is the sense of justice pushed to the very edge of human discipline — almost breaking in that final scene, almost letting the guy hang, but then pulling back. His moral code takes over.

Aaron and I have talked about this a lot. It’s the kind of leading man we want to see, and the kind of stories we want to tell: someone pushed to the limits — not only physically, but morally. They’re able to almost go into the dark side, then come back. Because ultimately, we’re both optimists.

That matters. There are a lot of dark stories out there — stories without a moral code — just money, revenge, blood lust. It gets boring to me. There’s something wonderful about a man who lives by a code and gets slammed by society, by big government, by his position in life, by lack of money — but still sticks to that ethical matrix.

And there are other facets of Frank I thought Aaron would find interesting. Frank is an artist. Aaron is a creative artist. Actors aren’t just people who “play” — they’re creative souls looking for something they can bring their creativity to. Frank had those beats and moments, and I hoped Aaron would be attracted to them.

Working with Aaron is a given. As a director, it’s the pinnacle of professionalism.

Aaron Eckhart: Plus, Jesse, sometimes you just like working with people you like, and that has a lot to do with it.

Jesse and I had a good time on Chief of Station, and it was an easy yes. It was like, what do you want to do? Let’s do something again. It’s fun to anticipate going to work with somebody you like, trust, and have a relationship with. That makes everything easy.

C&I: Travis, they both spoke about the code, and it really hearkens back to a lot of western influence — Wayne, Eastwood, even the older Jimmy Stewarts and all of that. When you were writing the script and figuring out who Frank was, were there any specific inspirations? And how do you separate your stories from those that have come before?

Travis Mills: I don’t think about it. Like Jesse said, I’m not self-conscious about style. I trust my instincts and look at real life as reference.

I looked at JD Pepper as a reference, and I think that always leads you the right way — not referencing films but referencing real life.

And like Aaron said so well, loneliness is part of the West. I’m probably attracted to writing lonely characters as much as he’s attracted to playing them. I trusted my instincts all the way — and JD’s advice.

C&I: And writing is such a lonely art in itself — an isolated art — so there you go.

Travis Mills: But it’s nice because, unlike being on set, you don’t have anyone telling you what to do. Then you give them the script, and they can do whatever they want with it.

C&I: And correct me if I’m wrong, Travis — you said you reached out to Jesse about making this film?

Travis Mills: Yeah.

C&I: Can you talk about that process and why you thought Jesse would be a good director?

Travis Mills: Yeah. I saw him directing on the Pendragon Cycle, which was the TV series we were working on in Europe. We’re riding to the medieval set every day in a van for 45 minutes, and you get to talking — about movies, about directors. I respected his previous work a lot.

I said, “I have this script — are you interested in reading it?” He said it’s quite good — and that Aaron would be perfect for it. I thought, wow. I’d been watching Aaron’s movies since the days of Neil LaBute. I’m a fan. It sounded like a perfect project.

So, I trusted Jesse to take it and do his thing.

C&I: That’s great. Jesse — so much of the character of westerns is the location, the landscape. Can you talk about where you chose to film, the thought process behind it, and what that experience was like?

Jesse V. Johnson: I’ll try to keep my answers short — I tend to ramble. One of the big inspirations for this picture: I found out the schedule was going to be very, very short. It’s basically a two-week shoot. You look at 12 days and think, oh my gosh — can we do this?

So, I looked at some of the masterworks I love, and discovered Ride Lonesome was shot in 12 days — Budd Boetticher’s picture, shot in the Alabama Hills around Lone Pine. I knew there was a museum there — the Lone Pine Film Museum — and they have a Boetticher section. So I made a pilgrimage there as inspiration. It’s wonderful, absolutely inspiring. If anyone gets the chance, they should visit.

Lucien Ballard — who shot that — had this idea: if you don’t have time or money, find the best locations you know, put your actors there, and let the backdrop do the work. They used to joke they could find the nails in the ground from where John Ford had scouted camera positions, and they’d try to mimic those. You watch those films and feel like you’re watching a huge movie because of the depth and the landscapes.

So, I took from that. How does a film shot in 12 days become so lasting? What can we use from that?

For us, it meant using locations as much as possible. We worked very hard in Columbus, Georgia, finding shots that gave us depth. It’s very flat there, but I wanted undulating hills where possible — it gives you space. They also have that wonderful orange clay dirt, which is wildly different from what I grew up thinking of as “dirt,” and I tried to embrace it.

We had shots where the frame was a mile and a half across, with the rustlers taking up the full space. We used the frame as much as possible. I worked with Jonathan Hall, a wonderful DP.

It also meant the actors had to do everything physically. They had to move from one side of the frame to the other — huge spaces. Aaron was running nonstop — really physical performance. But I knew he was up for it.

It was a collaboration of the highest order. I’m proud of what we pulled off in the time. And it’s thanks to the script, and to Aaron inspiring everyone and being there.

C&I: Aaron — can you talk about what that environment did for your performance, having such a backdrop to work against? And how is that different than films set in a more city environment — how does that connect for you in the character?

Aaron Eckhart: Location is extremely important because you’re looking for reality. The whole idea of filmmaking is you’re looking for reality, so you don’t have to act. You need a real cow there — everything’s tactile.

Movies have moved toward green screen and all that, and you can feel the difference.

In Georgia it was hot — dead summer. You need that. The sweat on the shirts, all of it. The nights are hot. The crickets, the ticks — everything. All that plays as a character in the movie.

Whether you’re filming in a fish market in New York City — I shot in the fish market and New York City didn’t shut it down. We didn’t shut down the cattle auction either. It makes a big difference, being around real things.

Jesse knows — we were there, cows were crying, bawling, the whole thing. It was a symphony of noises. It helps because you forget you’re acting. You forget the guy across from you is acting. You don’t hear “action.”

That’s what Clint Eastwood does — he doesn’t call “action.” He wants you to live it. And all that helps. It takes the burden off the actor because you don’t have to imagine it — it’s all right there.

C&I: Travis, switching gears a little bit: I know you didn’t have to worry too much about locations when you were writing the script, but you’ve written westerns across the budget spectrum — small, large-scale, everything in between. When you set out to write this, did you have more of an independent focus in mind? And now seeing the completed film, how closely did it match your original vision?

Travis Mills: It’s a little different. The original script was set in Arizona, so I had a more rugged Arizona landscape in mind — places I’ve been, like Show Low, eastern Arizona, western New Mexico.

But Jesse really wanted to set it in Oklahoma, and it made sense to shoot it in Georgia. That’s how it goes — things get reimagined.

The important thing is: when you hand the script to the director, you trust them. Then you say, “Hey, it’s your baby now. It’s not my baby — it’s your baby. Good luck.”

C&I: There you go. Jesse, when you’re balancing what’s in the script against budgets and time constraints, what freedoms did the independent model give you, and what challenges did it present?

Jesse V. Johnson: You have ultimate freedom when it comes to the art — changes, writing, whatever. The one thing no one liked was cowboy hats. People kept poking me in the back saying, “We told you: no cowboy hats.” Apparently, cowboy hats are bad for foreign distribution. So, it was a battle every day to keep the cowboy hats — because I love cowboy hats. I wear a cowboy hat. I wanted them. It’s honest and real and authentic. That was the only battle.

The other side of that coin — this Janus face of independent film — is you have no money and you have no schedule. You have freedom, but you don’t have time.

On a film like this, we thrived. If we wanted to change a line, we changed the line. If we wanted to change a location, as long as we colored within the financial framework, we were okay — so long as we didn’t go over budget.

There’s freedom, but you’re curtailed by how much money is there.

One thing that surprised me was filming at the cattle market. Usually, when you film at a real location, people watch, they get involved, they yell, “Hey, Mom!” — that kind of thing. But the cattle market was hallowed ground. These people are selling their livelihood, and the people buying are buying their livelihood.

The auction was going on, cameras rolling, Aaron there — and nobody noticed. They didn’t care. They were utterly focused, because whatever happened in that auction was going to dictate how they lived going forward. That left a mark on me, shooting that scene.

C&I: Wow. Aaron — you’ve run the gamut of films in your career. At this stage, what’s the goal when you choose projects? With this one, it’s a real-world issue and character driven. What about this film set you on the path toward becoming Frank?

Aaron Eckhart: I just want to have fun. I don’t want to be hassled. I’m 57 years old. I’ve been doing this a long time. I want to work with people I like and do interesting things — things that have heart, that have meaning.

The American West is very dear to me: freedom, survival, a man providing for himself and his family, and what you do when someone tries to take that away.

I love the history of the American West, and it’s important to the world, too. Wherever you go — Beijing, Europe — people have an idea of what the American West means, what the cowboy means. It has a place in their heart.

But basically, I just want to run around, grunt, throw some punches, and shoot some people.

C&I: And I’m sure a lot of our audience will love to see that. Travis — did you set out to say something about the American West when you started writing this? And even if you didn’t, what do you hope the film says when people watch it?

Travis Mills: One thing is: westerns these days — lots of them — are all style, all flashiness. They’ve forgotten what the western genre is about. It’s about theme: the code, the conversation of code, the conflict of code.

Jesse gets that. Aaron gets that. Thank God people like these guys are making modern westerns.

I hope more films like this — and the film I just released, Frontier Crucible — remind filmmakers what the western is really about. And I hope it gets the audience to talk, even just for ten minutes after the movie, about our country: Are we holding onto our values? Do we care about fairness? Do we care about doing the right thing — standing up when everything tells you to back down?

I hope it puts those thoughts in their heads, and they walk around with them for a few days.

C&I: Jesse, you mentioned how important the cattle auction is — and how real this issue is to families and ranchers in the West. What do you hope those ranchers and families think or feel after watching the film?

Jesse V. Johnson: I think they’ll laugh a little bit, because we’ve made it quite an action movie out of what, in true crime, is often mundane — boring people stealing the livelihood of good people.

But beyond that, I hope they enjoy that someone is recognizing what’s going on and maybe take some peace from knowing they’re not on their own. Maybe people will start to notice, and something can be done about it. I don’t know what shape that takes, but at least it’s been recognized. That’s the aspiration.

C&I: Aaron, you might have the highest expectations — you said these men and women are your neighbors. Did any part of taking on this role hope to bring awareness to the issue? And now that you’ve made the film, what changes might art be able to make?

Aaron Eckhart: I don’t know. My neighbor Wayne — he’s an old bronc cowboy, ran cows his whole life, was a logger — he’s just going to laugh at it. But he’s got good stories.

Whatever movie you’re doing — if you play a cop, doctor, cook — you want those people to look at it and go, “I believe you can hold a gun. That’s the right way to hold a gun. That’s the right way to cut vegetables. That’s the right way to do open-heart surgery.”

You want them to say, “Yeah, I see you put a little bit of work into it. You had respect for what I do.”

C&I: Absolutely.

Aaron Eckhart: Authenticity. Yeah.

C&I: Well guys, thank you so much for your time today. I know you’ve been busy — running the gamut of publicity and probably already onto the next project or two. And we at Cowboys & Indians appreciate having you on.

And listeners: Thieves Highway releases in theaters December 12th and on video-on-demand December 16th.

Final fun question: What’s your favorite western? Travis, you’re the resident western buff — start us off.

Travis Mills: The Tall T by Budd Boetticher.

C&I: Why that one?

Travis Mills: It’s the bone marrow of the western. It’s the essay on what the western is all about.

C&I: Great choice. Jesse?

Jesse V. Johnson: Easy for me: The Searchers. It’s the greatest ending to a movie — beautiful. I adore the film. I return to it every few years to study it. It’s a passionate affair between me and The Searchers. I love that movie.

C&I: Aaron?

Aaron Eckhart: I don’t know — I guess I went to film school, so I’ll say Red River. But honestly, it’s Clint Eastwood movies. I love Hang ’Em High. And what was the one — Pale Rider — and of course The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. There’s nobody like him. I even worked with Clint when he was 87 or 88, and he’s still the most badass cowboy. So I’m going with Clint.