It’s interesting that Desperado isn’t often mentioned as a modern-day Western. Perhaps it was considered contemporary when it premiered, but even after 30 years, the term may no longer apply. Released by Robert Rodriguez at the end of summer in 1995, this film isn’t rooted in the Old West and boasts significantly more firepower. Kevin Costner, the Western genre’s most prominent figure post-Eastwood, hadn’t yet figured out how to bring the genre into the modern day. Whenever he tried, he seemed to gravitate towards sports-themed films.

The film might not be recognized as a classic Western because, during the mid-’90s, the genre was dominated by the Eastwood/Costner duo. They were at the helm of both decade’s Best Picture/Director Oscar wins within the genre. Meanwhile, Desperado was clearly aimed at a younger audience. At age 27, Rodriguez crafted it as a half-remake, half-sequel to his self-financed action/Western El Mariachi. This essentially makes it the Evil Dead 2 of Westerns – fitting considering that Sam Raimi also released a violent Western that year, set in a more traditional era. It’s equally fitting that Rodriguez enjoys staging genre staples like shoot-outs and stand-offs, much like Raimi.

Rodriguez’s love of gunplay also mirrors the Hong Kong action films gaining popularity in America during the 1990s, demonstrating an enticing rebelliousness similar to that of his friend Quentin Tarantino, who makes a brief appearance, as was the trend back then. (Tarantino often receives criticism for his acting, but to his credit, he regularly casts himself or is cast by Rodriguez as a creep or a fool, destined for a grim fate. See if you can guess which role he takes here.) Such films are also part of the Western tradition, creating a rich tapestry of influences. Remarkably, even with the kind of trendy action that usually ages rapidly, the unique style of Desperado remains timeless even years later.

That could be due to the appealing simplicity of the premise, encapsulated in the movie’s dynamite opening sequence. A man with no name walks into a dive-y bar – only it’s not the Mariachi (Antonio Banderas), not yet. Instead, his weaselly little sidekick (Steve Buscemi) shows up to tell the tale of, yes, a stranger rolling into another dive-y bar and shooting up the place with mythical, near-magical precision. Rodriguez actually takes his time before his lead draws his gun outside the realm of shadowy, ultra-stylized retelling; there’s Buscemi’s story, a musical credits sequence where Banderas is first scene singing and strumming a guitar; and that leads into a brief flashback to the events of El Mariachi (which did not star Banderas), where his lover was shot by a lieutenant of the drug lord Bucho (Joaquim de Almeida).

After some more scene-setting, plot details, and character stuff, it’s a full half-hour before the Mariachi actually walks into the bar from the opening to follow up on Buscemi’s insouciant prophecy. The seven-minute shoot-out that follows is admittedly more John Woo than Sergio Leone, capped with the solid gag of Banderas and his last remaining opponent frantically scrounging around among the dead bodies for a single loaded weapon. In this scene and throughout Desperado, Banderas moves with a dancer’s elegance; it’s a cliché to call these kinds of action sequences “balletic,” and Rodriguez is generally a little more brute-force with his choreography. But Banderas does little spins, flourishes, and glowers that are as integral to the movie’s style as the slow-mo and the copious squibs.

He’s also just a beautiful man, matched in that area by Salma Hayek as bookstore owner Carolina, who helps the Mariachia work his way up Bucho. The requisite guns-Blazing showdowns (and yes, one terrifically overheated, rolling-spurs sex scene wit enough positions for three) follow. What makes the story feel more like a Western, despite classic Westerns’ lack of scenes where the mysterious stranger jumps backwards off a rooftop whilst firing two guns at once, is Rodriguez’s delight in myths and legends, further developed in the final movie of his Mariachi trilogy, Once Upon a Time in Mexico, where the Mariachi story is both retold and continued, further blurring the “actual” events of these characters’ lives. There’s an Old West tall-tale sensibility overlaid onto all the New West automatic gunfire and bloodshed.

In retrospect, the mid-’90s was a perfect time to tell this story with its intentionally loose continuity and relative lack of modern tech (besides, of course, the amped-up artillery, including, in one sequence, a guitar-case rocket launcher of questionable practicality). Some probably considered Rodriguez opportunistic for immediately upgrading his scrappy indie into a Hollywood-funded shoot-em-up, and then continuing to shoot ’em up (in spirit even if not always in practice) for many years thereafter. Beyond that aforementioned interest in self-referential stories within stories, Rodriguez never really appeared to develop a full worldview or sensibility that would elevate his work beyond B-movie fun. But that, too, makes him a solid Western director – not because Westerns lack rich subtext, but because at their peak there were plenty of churned-out programmers with whatever style their directors could fit into a busy schedule. That’s the spirit Desperado still taps into all these years later.

Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.