The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada

Tommy Lee Jones brings his same dry manner and sly humor in front of the camera to his feature debut behind it as director of "The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada."

Jones also costars in this spare, old-school Western as a Texas rancher investigating the killing of one of his employees (Julio Cesar Cedillo), an illegal immigrant from Mexico with whom he'd formed an unexpected bond and whose friendship inspires his vengeful trek across the Rio Grande.

Working from a screenplay by Guillermo Arriaga, whose nonlinear narrative recalls his earlier scripts for "Amores Perros" and "21 Grams," Jones lulls us in with wide-screen, scrub-brushed vistas (some of which were shot on his own ranch) and the quirky rhythms of small-town life before reaching his destination with a surprisingly intense, satisfying climax.

Until then, "Three Burials" is all about killing time — in simple, often absurd ways, out in the middle of nowhere.

As a new border patrol agent, watching for Mexicans to cross in groups from their own vast, dry nothingness into more of the same in the United States, Barry Pepper's Mike Norton spends his days flipping through the pages of a Hustler magazine. And waiting.

His tackily gorgeous, bored wife, Lou Ann (January Jones), spends her days chain-smoking at the local truck stop diner and dreaming of going shopping at the mall in faraway Odessa.

Rachel (Melissa Leo), a longtime waitress at the diner, alleviates her own boredom by dallying with both Jones' character, Pete Perkins, and the sheriff (Dwight Yoakam, a perfect jerk here as he was in "Sling Blade") — even though she's married.

The fatal shooting and hasty burial of Melquiades, told in flashbacks and from different perspectives, shakes up all their lives. It also sheds light on who this quiet, polite man was — besides just "a good Mexican," as one clueless cop describes him — and causes the ornery, slightly insane Pete to realize who he's capable of being.

His promise to Melquiades that he'd bury his friend in his tiny, remote hometown if he died takes him on an arduous horseback journey over many miles of steep, ruggedly beautiful terrain (shot with gritty realism by Oscar-winning cinematographer Chris Menges). The strangers he meets along his "Odyssey"-like adventure show him unexpected kindnesses on both sides of the border (and Pete is much more agreeable in Spanish than he is in English).

But he's not alone. Having determined the identity of Melquiades' killer, Pete drags him along for the ride (literally) by beating him up, handcuffing him and strapping him onto the horse behind him. Their trip is often painful to watch — partly because of the languid pacing but mostly because of Pete's bloodily abusive manner in teaching this remorseless killer a lesson.

In classic Western tradition, justice and redemption come as the days and miles pass. And with time and travel, Jones proves he's a director of understated skill and unexpected romanticism. Pete's loyalty to Melquiades and the revelations of his journey stir something deep within him — and in us.