To Kill A Man You Shoot Him In The Heart: A Fistful of Dollars (1964)

Call him what you will, whether it be the don of the genre or the godfather of spaghetti westerns, one can hardly deny the very significant place that Sergio Leone holds in regards to the stylistic, iconic and somewhat implausible expectations for perfection associated with the western.  Of course, Leone is not the only name in the world of westerns as previous review have shown, but I would contest that his decidedly auteur style suggests one of the most identifiable ones by a long shot.  One can easily pick out a Leone film from a line up for its screen breaking wide shots, and heavy use of close-ups, not to mention a tonality that is both visual and incredibly tonal with what was often the blistering score of Ennio Morricone.  At no point in this film could one attempt to find a scene or shot that is ill-conceived or out of place, Leone took to making westerns the way that Hitchcock took to thrillers, always assuring that each moment had a layer relating to its preceding and following moments, while also standing alone as a stellar shot or scene.  Yet, when one views a film like A Fistful of Dollars they can find themselves initially put off by its somewhat desultory narrative, one that just seems to ramble and move about with a bit of uncertainty.  While this assumption is true, to dismiss the film for such a style is foolish, because in this wandering style, Leone captures a part of the west that is rarely embraced, the real and troubling uncertainty faced by every individual who navigated that space, whether it be the pioneer, the sheriff, or in the case of this film a man whose past seems to precede him, although it is never quite clear what he was or is running from.  Much like, Shane, the first film I reviewed this month, A Fistful of Dollars excels at making the stranger a central figure in the west, yet wherein that film seemed to create a distinction between the regular and the strange, the entire world of A Fistful of Dollars, and Leone's larger Man With No Name/Dollars Trilogy.  To Sergio Leone the west is a very fascinating and visually appealing place, yet in that sort of awe and intrigue lies something on the verge of falling apart and destroying all that is respectable or held sacred.

A Fistful of Dollars focuses on the experiences of Joe (Clint Eastwood) although his travels through a Mexican border town have earned him the name of "foreigner."  Joe makes it rather clear from the onset of the film that he is solely concerned with making money and will do so with a set of unscrupulous morals.  Joe, is initially dismissed by the various parties involved, only to to discover that behind the very stoic talk comes a quick firing hand with fatal accuracy, almost instantly resulting in Joe being showered with respect by a group of locals, while becoming a point of threat for the local powers.  Of course, Joe realizes that creating friends is far from a productive endeavor and decides to take the powerful tycoons and pit them against the locals, navigating between both sides as he sees fit, again concerning himself with gaining more money.  Yet even in his attempts to avoid ethical involvement, Joe does step in during a shootout that runs the risk of harming a small child and realizes that history of a group within the area, thus causing him to undertake the task of freeing a jailed man, an action that leads to him becoming even more despised by the Rojos, who capture Joe and beat him while in their possesssion, hoping to destroy his will, as well as his expert shooting arm.  Upon escaping Joe uses tricks and the tension of the moment to pit the Rojos against their rivals, resulting in a bloody shootout where few survive, all while Joe watches from the cover of a nearby covered wagon, taking a trip underground as he plans a counter attack and eventual attack upon the remaining members of the Rojos.  During this hiding in a mine shaft, Joe hones his firing skills to perfection, while also fancying himself a bulletproof vest out of an old mine cart, providing him with the skills and protection to return and gun down the remaining members of the Rojos in a near godlike fashion, and when Joe is a near victim to a stealthy sniper attack it is none other than one of the admiring townsfolk that saves his life, allowing Joe to ride of into the sunset as is appropriate.

Joe, as a character, is rarely named, in fact, I am not sure his name is expressly given in the narrative, instead; he is often referred to as either the foreigner, or as the stranger, a very apt title considering that the stranger is a highly important trope within the western.  The idea of the stranger, of course, is not unique to this genre, nor to film and finds a common place in a lot of Jewish folklore.  Essentially, the stranger moves into a space, often out of nowhere and without a tangible identity.  Furthermore, the stranger as trope is usually an individual with some degree of a trouble past that they rarely discuss.  These elements are certainly true within the context of A Fistful of Dollars and arguably possesses one of the greatest cinematic examples of the stranger ever realized.  Joe is, firstly, a stranger in that his whiteness is othering and while the film is in English, one could assume a language barrier as well.  Beyond this, he is a man who is quite limited in what he will say, instead, desiring to prove his point by actions, both violent and helpful.  These actions, while, ultimately, reflective of the sole concerns of the stranger, in this case Joe, usually extend beyond their desires and invariably affect the town or city they have entered.  It is no stretch to say that Joe's presence irreversibly changes the state of mind of the community, not to mention the population, yet it is, again, all intended to save face for Joe whose financial hopes clearly influence his decision, although he is not void of a sense of moral duty.  In fact, in many instances, particularly within the western genre, the stranger's moral beliefs are not incongruous with the townsfolk and when a wrong has been done a large scale they find themselves relating to the community on more than an acquaintance based level, thus spurring into action and saving the town, even receiving praise and adoration in the process.  Yet, as is the final element for the stranger, their inability to remain in any degree of stasis results in their movement away from a town with which they have changed, in some ways improving it, while at other times detracting it from its traditions.

Key Scene:  The final shootout of course, Leone knows how to build to a explosive crescendo and while this is certainly no The Good, The Bad and The Ugly it is, nonetheless, something to behold.

I watched this on DVD and while it was not terrible, I would suggest just dropping some cash on the bluray release trilogy, it will certainly prove to be money well spent.

All Right, Gentlemen! He's Got One Barrel Left: Unforgiven (1992)

One is quite hard pressed to find a genre more challenged by the elusiveness of critical acclaim than that of the western, in fact, if one were to not include No Country for Old Men as a pseudo-western then only three Westerns, to date, have received a Best Picture award at the Oscars, one being the very excellent and incredibly watchable Unforgiven, by Clint Eastwood a director I find myself appreciate more and more with each film I watch of his, especially those of the Western persuasion.  I am quite aware that in terms of "respectability" as a film genre, Westerns certainly fair much better than say the horror film, but I feel it necessary to remind readers that the horror film was born and exists in a world of low-budget and in a counter culture vacuum as well, whereas the western is a thing of prestige, often requiring an insane budget, a set of well-established actors to assure ticket sales, not to mention some rather versatile filming equipment.  Of course, in 1992, Clint Eastwood was still finding himself as a director, far from the assumed respect attached to him for films like Million Dollar Baby and Gran Torino and certainly earlier than his masterful romantic drama The Bridges of Madison County, yet to call Unforgiven a outright Western is to misuse the term, since it both adheres to the traditions of the genre, as well as completely turning them on their heads as necessary.  The inclusion of persons of color and women into central plot points are only the beginning of the revolutionary elements within Unforgiven, a film that manages to contest the entire notion of what constitutes certifiable good and to what degree a persons past should have on their engagements years down the road.  Between the moments of broad cinematic landscapes and one of the most magnificent casts ever assembled for a Western that did not have the world "magnificent" in its title, Unforgiven is not only what a person would come to desire out of a contemporary Western, but, more importantly, what they seek in an exceptionally good film as well.

The film intertwines various narratives beginning with the events at a "billiards room," a term intended to refer to a brothel, in which one woman's face is horribly scarred simply for her giggling at one customers lack of endowment, leading to the town sheriff Little Bill Daggett (Gene Hackman) demanding that the perpetrators promise to bring back a set of horses to the women at the brothel as a form of payment for their wrongdoing.  This retribution is deemed quite unfit in the eyes of the women and the go about hiring a bounty hunter known as The Scofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett) to kill the man and his pal in retribution.  The Scofield Kid realizes that the task is quite difficult given that the men he is to kill are in their own right quite keen on murder, leading to his attempt to bring former assassin Will Munny (Clint Eastwod) out of retirement.  Will, who is still reeling from the death of his wife quite a few years back has all but vowed never to pick up a gun again, a life choice he associates with his past alcoholism and debauchery prior to meeting his late wife.  Yet, when informed of the high award along with his own disdain for his life as a pig farmer, Will takes up the job, but not before asking for the help of his former partner and equally infamous assassin Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman).  While The Scofield Kid is initially hesitant of the extra help he realizes how integral firepower will be in making sure of their success.  Of course they are not the only individuals seeking the reward and must come to odds with English Bob (Richard Harris) and his biographer, who after English Bob is sent out of town decides to stay about and chronicle the exploits of Bill.  A series of misplaced attacks and failures at killing their target lead to Ned deciding to leave the task and return home, unfortunately, Bill has decided to make an example of him and kills Ned leaving him on display in the village as a warning against assassins entering the town.  Enraged Will returns to the town and shoots Bill, as well as his lackeys down, already possessing the money from the kill.  Will then returns to his life of solitude, although viewers are led to believe that he has done so with the addition of some much needed adult companionship.

This fim takes a handful of the elements of Western films as a skeleton for the plot and cinematic relationship between viewer and film.  For example, there is clearly a unwritten code of ethics helping individuals navigate the wild horizons, whether it be a code of honesty concerning bringing weapons into towns, or the notion of a ceasefire, in order to allow a dying man to enjoy a last drink of water.  Eastwood's familiarity with the genre explodes of the screen, apparent in many of the shootouts as wel as the sets, props and landscapes occupying the space.  Of course, as I noted earlier it is not what Eastwood does within the tradition that is worth considering, but what he does to reconsider it that seems so important.  Firstly, he incorporates a black character into the narrative a thing that may seem redundant now, but as an undergraduate history teacher helped me understand the notion of the black cowboy was very much a part of the world of the American West and proves to still be one of the most ignored and purposefully overlooked elements of the time and place.  Yet, it is also Eastwood's fascination with pride, memory, and glory as they relate to an individuals methods of law enforcement.  Bill is by no means a wholly evil character, but the way he uses the townsfolk and the bodies of others (figuratively and literally) to create his messages evoke the images of a corrupt politician much more son than that of a just deputy, his depicted job within the onset of the film narrative.  In fact, one could make an argument that Bill exists as a sole character of moral certainty.  Bill only agrees to take back the act of assassination as a means to assure safety for his children, yet his paternal performance also extends to The Scofield Kid when necessary and the constant referral to him as an old man take on greater meaning in this context.  It is clearly Will's age that allows him to reflect on the absurdity of human violence and aggression, although as his actions show, wrongdoing always needs to be met with justice, regardless of one's personal attachment.

Key Scene:  A riding scene between Eastwood and Freeman in which the use of hands factors heavily into the conversation as a hilarious moment, so perfected that it almost seemed out of place.

Buy this on Bluray it really pops of the screen in fiery, almost incandescent manner and certainly proves necessary for any burgeoning Western collection.  Not to mention it is super cheap.

They Came Home. And With Them My Life Of Details: The Bridges Of Madison County (1995)

I have, much to my shame, gone for quite a bit of time without seeing a film directed by the prolific Clint Eastwood, who, politics aside, is a nearly indomitable figure in Hollywood history.  Furthermore, as a friend of mine suggests he is one of the only classicist directors still working, something that is quickly evident in what I have seen of his trailer, as well as his directing of The Bridges of Madison County.  For whatever reason, perhaps the fact that my memories of it emerge from being eight or so when it came out, I assumed this film to be an absolutely sappy and unbearable chick romance flick, one that I would never in a million years have attached to the hypermasculine Eastwood.  Of course, when I found this film again I had not realized that it was indeed directed by Eastwood and remembering that it was well received, or at the very least popular upon its release, I decided to give it a whirl.  The earnestly, beauty and intimacy with which Eastwood brings Robert James Waller's film to life, makes every lackluster adaptation of equally uninspired Nicholas Spark's books seem frivolous and ill-intended, A Walk to Remember excluded, a film for which I am quite fond.  The chemistry between Eastwood and Streep on film is palpable and instantaneous, a performance that would garner Streep one of her seemingly countless amount of nominations.  The films is not perfect by any means though and does suffer from a considerable length issue, mostly the fault of the somewhat unnecessary inclusion of the children's reading of their mothers account of infidelity.  However this minor criticism aside, The Bridges of Madison County is a magnificent work that forces viewers to reconsider their notions of first love, ageist assumptions about romantic intimacy and the degree of "infidelity" that occurs when an individual is stuck within an unfulfilling  marriage or relationship.  If we consider Eastwood to be a classicist filmmaker, which I do, it is in the way of melodramatic subtlety, a phrase I use intentionally for its oxymoronic quality.

The Bridges of Madison County begins with two adults meeting in the home of their late mother Francesca (Meryl Streep) to go through her personal belongings and undertake the enactment of her will.  The two children Carolyn (Annie Corley) and Michael (Victor Slezak) become particularly confused and reluctant when it is revealed that their mother request to be cremated and have her ashes strewn off the side of an old bridge near her house.  They make particular note of the fact that their father Richard (Jim Haynie) purchased to parallel graves to lay together in for eternity.  However, as a set of journals reveal, when the children and their father spent a week away at the state fair, Francesca engaged in an affair with a National Geographic photographer named Robert Kincaid (Clint Eastwood).  Michael is furious with the news, while Carolyn shows a considerable degree of intrigue beginning to thumb through the journal and see how such an act evolved.  It becomes clear, as viewers are situated into the initial encounter, via flashbacks and the diagetic narration of Francesca that the events unfolded in the most innocent of manners, first with Kincaid inquiring about the location of bridges then to Francesca offering to tag along as a guide.  Even when they spend their first evening together it is not sexual but simply the act of enjoying one another's company, over food and some brandy laced coffee.  It is the second day, after some suspicion by towns folk that Kincaid and Francesca are more weary, yet after purchasing a new dress for the occasion the two spend the evening together, eventually engaging in intercourse.  All the while we are shown Carolyn and Michael's reactions which evolve from outright discuss to deep understanding.  The night between the two is notably fleeting and despite Kincaid's demands that Francesca join him, she chooses to stay and welcome the return of her family, a painful moment that she accepts like a martyr.  By possible chance, Francesca sees Kincaid in town one last time and even has to suffer through sitting behind his truck at a red light, clutching the handle to her husband's truck as she considers fleeing into his world.  However, she does stay and instead asks in the notes of her diary that her children acknowledge her request, as it is the least they can do in return for her sacrificed happiness.

The fact of the matter with The Bridges of Madison County is that it is a first rate romance.  The love story depicted between the two aging idealists is something for the ages and is never forced.  I would suggest that it represents the simplest and most realized moments of burgeoning love.  It is hard not to see the pangs of initial attraction occur, when Kincaid first steps out of his truck, and it is certainly realized when Francesca discusses the erotic attachment she feels to Kincaid simply at the thought of ouccpying a space in which his naked body had resided only moments earlier, however, intercourse aside the evolution of their romance is youthful in the fullest of terms.  It begins by playful interactions in a car, leading to Kincaid picking wildflowers for Francesca, reminiscent of many a summer loves follies.  Furthermore, Kincaid's recollections on his brief experiences in a small town in Italy which Francesca originally hails, causes her to return to a youthful state, one that allows her to open veritable romantic floodgates.  If we then consider the location of their moment of sexual encounter, it plays beautifully into the youthful nature, in that it does not occur in a bed, but on a rug because of outside forces "condemnation" and interference.  However, romance of youthful hearts is obliterated with the reminders of Francesca's very adult responsibilities, ones that she must commit to and mean that their love must wait till the otherworldly to be fully celebrated.  In the end it causes the two adult children to reflect on their own love lives, which result in their acting with purposefully youthful zeal.

Key Scene:  The moment at the red light in which Francesca clutches the handle of the door seems to drag on forever, but it should as in her memories it went on for an eternity.

This was a stellar film, but not one I find absolutely necessary to own, yet should you enjoy romances this is top tier stuff.

My Film World: Rome

I missed the chance to offer a My Film World excerpt last week, but have come back with a rather spectacular offering.  I am taking this Monday to note the wonderful bit of musicianship that is Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi's Rome.  You are most likely familiar with Danger Mouse for his famous mash-up of Jay-Z's Black Album with The Beatles White Album to create the Grey Album.  If not, you are definitely familiar with him as one-half of Gnarls Barkley which brought us the ever so catchy song "Crazy."  Perhaps, however, you are less familiar with Daniel Luppi...don't worry so is wikipedia.  However, Luppi is certainly an accomplished composer, making music for many notable films, including Nine and Under The Tuscan Sun.  The duo has combined together to create the previously mentioned Rome as an homage to Spaghetti Westerns.

Their homage is nothing less than cinematic.  Each song on the album hearkens back to Sergio Leone's finest films and one cannot help but prepare for an epic shootout.  What makes the album even better though is the dedication to create a western narrative.  Each song whether instrumental or lyric driven borrows heavily of some element of the western genre.  Incorporating the artistic help of Norah Jones and Jack White, Rome makes listeners nostalgic for their favorite Wild West characters, both good and bad.  Not to mention with track names like "The Gambling Priest" and "Two Against One" it is easy to think of a variety of other famous westerns, made outside the works of Italian directors.  The standout track on this album is definitively track ten entitled "Black" which will inevitably have you rearing to hitch up a horse and saddle off into the sunset.  This is an obvious vinyl purchase for audiophiles, but for non-musical purists out there a quick ITunes download is well worth the investment.

 

( Rome may as well have been the original soundtrack for The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, it's that good.)

It Was Offered For Your Pain, Not For Your Pleasure: The Beguiled (1971)

As I have noted before, the late sixties and early seventies are my favorite era of American filmmaking.  A majority of the films offered during this time period play with narrative conventions to create radical films to challenge the oppressive demands of Hollywood and to use cinema as a voice of opposition to the political ideals of their time.  Don Siegel's film The Beguiled certainly offers such an example.  A trippy film with pseudo-narration, multiple voice-overs and sporadic cinematography, The Beguiled exudes all the rebellion indicative of New Hollywood filmmaking, not to mention it contains Clint Eastwood in one of his finer early non-western films.  The film is a period piece in the most liberal of terms and often incorporates imagery of the early seventies as an ironic juxtaposition to the Civil War being depicted on screen.

The film begins with a series of sepia photos of Lincoln, Grant and other Civil War icons as a way to imply the time period, which leads into a fade to color scene of a young girl named Amy (Pamelyn Ferdin) picking mushrooms in the woods.  While gathering the last few mushrooms a Union soldier falls to Amy's feet obviously wounded from battle.  This soldier in short urgent breaths explains himself to be John McBurney (Clint Eastwood) and pleads for help from the young girl.  This would not be a problem were it not for John being stuck dead in the middle of Confederate territory.  Oblivious to the consequences of harboring a Union soldier Amy brings John back to her all-girls boarding school much to the dismay of the schools headmistress Martha (Geraldine Page).  Martha is concerned primarily for the act of treason, as well as the inherent problem of bringing a young male into a school of young women.  What ensues upon John's stay is a jealousy fueled bout of sexual tension that involves young Amy, Martha, the boarding schools slave and one of the schools other teachers Edwina (Elizabeth Hartmen).  While tense, John is able to stay under the protection of the women, until he makes the mistake of sleeping with one of the young girls named Carol (Jo Ann Harris), who dons a classic seventies haircut, despite the films setting of roughly 1860.  Upon discovery of his act, Edwina shoves John down the stairs, yet again his leg.  Martha, also enraged, amputates John's leg claiming it a necessary act for his survival.  When John awakes and discovers his leg removed, he steals Martha's gun and takes control of the school while waiting for Union soldiers to arrive.  The young Amy, distraught by John's infidelity, as well as his outburst against her pet turtle, agrees to pick poisonous mushrooms to feed him for dinner.  This act leads to John's death and subsequent burial by the women, ending the film on an ominous tone, despite its rather notable moment of liberation for the females involved.

The Beguiled reeks of patriarchal criticism.  Everything within the film has an element of female liberation.  The method of poisoning of John occurs through a natural fungus implying a bond with Gaia or more simply Mother Nature.  Similarly, the entire school of women is a form of liberation, given that prior to John's arrival they had successfully fended off other male infiltration, and it is implied that they will continue to do so after John's death.  Furthermore, the women, led by Martha, take it upon themselves to figuratively castrate John by removing his leg.  John even goes so far as to claim a concern that they will cut of his other leg, pausing a moment before saying leg implying that he fears the loss of another appendage as well.  Even when John attempts to repossess power with a phallic gun, he loses out to his false sense of immunity at the hands of a clever pre-teen girl.  The film also posits a unified womanhood regardless of race or age.  The slave that lives with the girls is allowed free reign to voice her opinion and is careful to make the girls aware that no such thing exists as slave work in their unified commune.  The film even dabbles into images of lesbianism between the schools head teachers, the ultimate form of male exclusion.  The Beguiled is as much a Civil War period piece as it is a lesson in feminine independent sustainability.

The Beguiled is not for everyone.  I am partial to it for its similarities to other trippy New Hollywood films and recommend it to those who share my passion.  I know it plays often on television and is currently available on Netflix Watch Instantly.  Do not pass up the opportunity to view a truly bizarre Civil War film.