"Liberty" Valance is a pathologically vicious, whip-wielding outlaw; the man whose reputation came from shooting him didn't do it; the reign of law in The Territory is established by a cold-blooded murder.

Such are the dominant ironies in this rather sinister little fable, constructed in an offhand but mildly entertaining manner by the old master, John Ford….

Nothing of [the story] quite holds together if taken seriously; the direction of actors is loose and indulgent, and the dialogue is witless. Also there is a persistent nastiness of underlying tone; the film has too much of a parti pris for the personality and power of Wayne to attain a balanced structure—we know from the outset that only Wayne's gun can preserve Stewart from the whip of Liberty. If the film had been made in France, we would point out its "cryptofascist" tendencies: that it ignores the actual power basis of organized society in favor of a romanticized version glorified by Wayne, and that by isolating The Territory it makes a foolish individualist allegory out of a mighty social drama. (p. 42)

As with most of the Westerns I've seen on TV, however, the trouble is that the genre materials have been manipulated to death. Only the twists of plot retain a certain puzzle quality. One may here, for instance, note a neat thematic parallel between High Noon and Liberty Valance—in both, a central figure who espouses order, law, and peacefulness learns that plain violence is sometimes necessary…. But the stock materials are terribly worn by now, and we cease to take morality or amorality plays seriously if they do not have some human novelty and reality, some structuring artistic force. Ride the High Country rose above the routine Westerns it resembles in many respects because it had solid and fairly complex characterization, a vividly realized sense of interpersonal atmosphere, and a serious Faustian theme; the shooting and editing had drive, economy, cogency. Liberty Valance is by comparison very laxly made. Its flashback construction is a distraction,… its bows to racial "equality" in the person of Wayne's helper Pompey are embarrassing; its shameless repetitions of the cowardice gag with the marshal are tiresome. Worst of all, its over-all sugary tone belies the sinister line of the story. I suppose some will try to make the case that this disparateness only illustrates how consummate an auteur Ford is; to my mind it destroys the film. (p. 43)