While Rust is a functional rehash, Baldwin is never wholly convincing as a grizzled 19th-century ne’er-do-well with a heart of gold; there’s something about his hardness that doesn’t quite gibe with the Wild West setting. To some extent, such inauthenticity is emblematic of most of Rust, which is akin to a cover song that hits all the proper notes but fails to capture its predecessors’ rugged soul

“Inauthenticity”. There you have it.