Sydney Sweeney’s Americana Flop: Why the New Western Misfires at Every Turn

Elena West here — get ready, because today’s breakdown is going to flip the script on what you think you know about star power and filmmaking.

This is your moment to see a cautionary tale in real time: Sydney Sweeney, fresh off high-profile projects and glossy ad campaigns, headlines a film called Americana that critics are calling a clumsy, undercooked attempt at modern Western noir. Premiered at South by Southwest in March 2023 and released widely far later, Americana runs 110 minutes, is rated R for violence and language, and arrives with bigger ambitions than it delivers.

Listen up — there are lessons here for actors, directors, and audiences who expect more than surface flash. Sweeney plays Penny Jo, a shy South Dakota waitress with dreams of country stardom and a stammer that the film leans on to evoke vulnerability. That choice, critics say, lands unevenly: the speech impediment reads rehearsed yet insufficiently developed, and the image of Sweeney — frequently photographed and very much a public figure — is hard to reconcile with the “wallflower nobody notices” shtick the screenplay insists upon.

Let’s break down the ensemble so you can see where the friction comes from. Paul Walter Hauser is Lefty, a breathy, oddball romantic who brags about proposing to multiple women in a year. Halsey’s Mandy brings a darker backstory as an escapee from an abusive cult, and her arc is arguably the most substantial in the movie. Gavin Maddox Bergman plays Cal, a boy who believes he is the reincarnation of Sitting Bull and impulsively shoots an abusive boyfriend, precipitating the plot’s chaos. Zahn McClarnon’s Ghost Eye leads a gun-toting group guarding tribal heritage, and Eric Dane plays Dillon, the abusive man at the center of Cal’s action. The characters are painted as quirky and “wacky,” but critics argue the result is cartoonish rather than compelling.

At its core, Americana is about a coveted Native American ghost shirt, a garment claimed at once as a sacred relic and a quick ticket to profit. The paper-thin narrative follows the shirt as it changes hands among pretentious collectors, opportunists, and those who assert cultural stewardship. Writer-director Tony Tost attempts a satire of greed and Americana mythology, but reviewers note a heavy-handedness in message and a repetitively cyclical plot that never finds a propulsive rhythm.

Stylistically, Tost seems to be emulating the Coen Brothers and Tarantino — think offbeat violence, stylized oddballs, and a dusty small-town moral rot — but lacks the assured voice and taut screenplay that make those filmmakers’ oddities sing. Where the Coens and Tarantino fuse visual flair with precise dialogue and structural discipline, Americana reportedly offers glossy visuals without emotional or narrative stakes. The film’s “quirk brigade,” as one critic put it, talks in hokey, unconvincing lines while the camera lingers on pretty tableaux that ultimately feel empty.

There are moments of intensity: the film crescendos into a bloody standoff, an emotional death, and a reunion that aims for catharsis. Yet critics argue those beats land with the force of a tumbleweed — visually present but narratively hollow. Halsey’s Mandy emerges as a rare focal point with genuine arc and emotional weight, while Sweeney’s Penny Jo ends with a neat vocal triumph that, for some viewers, feels earned but underwhelming given the rest of the movie’s shortcomings.

So what’s the big takeaway? Star wattage and poster billing don’t automatically elevate a film. A talented cast, notable festival premiere, and eye-catching themes can’t substitute for a disciplined script and a director with an unequivocal cinematic signature. Americana’s sins are not scandalous so much as instructive: when a movie aims for mythic American truths but relies on contrived quirk and surface gloss, audiences notice.

Here’s the kicker: this film’s failure is also a creative opportunity. It’s a reminder that ambition must be matched by craft. For viewers, it’s a caution about hype versus substance. For Sweeney and company, it’s an artifact to learn from — a loud, visible prompt to choose roles and collaborators who amplify emotional truth over forced eccentricity.

Now take what you’ve learned and make something great happen!

Sources: Celebrity Storm and New York Post, South by Southwest coverage, film review outlets
Attribution: Creative Commons Licensed