A Man Who's Free Never Dies: Keoma (1976)

Considering that I am devoting the entire month to westerns it was only a matter of time before I came across a film involving Franco Nero, whose expansive career was heavily involved with his role as Django, a character Tarantino would morph for his recent take on the genre.  While I had high hopes of actually watching a Django flick things simply did not work out and I was instead able to obtain Keoma for a screening.  Fortunately, while it was not my first choice boy was it a blessing in disguise, because for all intents and purposes, Keoma is everything I could have possibly hoped for in an over-the-top spaghetti western.  In fact, it is an absurdly heavy handed movie that appears to, nonetheless, take itself very seriously.  I could pull from a variety of different examples from how this movie just blows subtlety out the window, whether it be the haunting and very on-the-nose soundtrack or the insistence that every single death be delivered in an incredibly slow-motion fashion, Keoma wants to be intense, and while its push for excess can be...excessive, it is what helps to make it an entirely enjoyable and incredibly engaging film.  Of course, what proves to be the biggest surprise in my opinion is that it also incorporates a handheld camera frequently, capturing scenes in natural lighting and grit.  If one refers to the release date though, it kind of makes sense, considering that 1976 may well be the greatest single year in filmmaking, and a moment in filmmaking where everything changed, in some cases for the better, but mostly for the worst.  The attempt at a heightened sense of reality that occurs in Taxi Driver or Nashville is poetic, realized and absolutely spectacular and there are certainly moments of this within Keoma, although I would never dare suggest that it is even remotely on similar ground.  Keoma sets out to consider the very real issues of racism and miscengination in a contemporary setting and to what degree those experiences have affected new generations, of course, given its wild nature the film only occasionally succeeds at these deeply philosophical endeavors, but when it does prove well-delivered it is nothing short of marvelous to watch.

Keoma (Franco Nero) is a man whose past has returned to him literally when he arrives back to his hometown after service in the Civil War on the side of the Union.  Keoma, is particularly reluctant to return to his town, first because of his half-white and half-Native American identity which has brought him much turmoil in his life, a fact emphasized by his tenuous relationship with his father, as well as his step-brothers who have mocked him for his entire life, an act that Keoma clearly still internalizes and plays out in visual flashbacks.  Furthermore, Keoma's return to his less than stellar past is made all the more unbearable when he discovers that his town is suffering from the scourge of a plague so drastic that it appears as though it is existing solely in a post-apocalyptic space where entire buildings are burned to the ground and any sort of business fails to thrive, let along stay on its feet.  While it appears as though the desolation is solely the result of the previously mentioned plague, Keoma catches wind of information that suggests a tyrannical man named Caldwell (Donald O'Brien) is actually the individual responsible for the terrible actions.  Realizing that it is his duty to both protect his city, as well as justify his existence and relevance despite, to use his step-brothers' term, a "half-breed." Keoma takes it upon himself to standup against the terrible ways of Caldwell and bring back to his town the necessary supplies and medicine to save everyone still alive from a certain plague ridden death.  Alongside Keoma are his former slave by circumstance and now recovering alcoholic George (Woody Strode) and the pregnant plague victim Lisa (Olga Karlatos) who help in all the ways possible to assure good comes back to their desolate village.  While Lisa is primarily moral support, George is actually quite skilled with a bow and lethal to a degree.  Eventually Keoma comes face to face with all those who had done injustice to either himself or the townsfolk teaching them their lesson with a swift knife or bullet to the chest, unfortunately, in order for Keoma to finally be born again, it invariably requires the loss of something.

Keoma provides for an interesting talking point in regards to the western as genre and pairs quite nicely in regards to Shane, which also includes a sort of wandering male figure, although in regards to this spaghetti western it is much more of a redemption/return story.  What makes Keoma particularly fascinating is that aside from a genetic difference, one that is only deemed less by those around him, he is an incredilby infallible character.  Viewers will quickly realize that there is nothing Keoma cannot do whether it be shooting down a posse of men who clearly outnumber him or landing a knife in a man's throat with perfect accuracy every time.  Hell the guy can even ride two horse at once, not to mention survive being drug behind one, or tied up to a wagon wheel for days at a time.  This heightened degree of perfection is certainly helpful considering the Christ narrative that eventually emerges within the film, but it is not a full on passion play of sorts so the fact that Keoma is so damn perfect becomes somewhat distancing at times.  It is easy to feel the tension of the first few fights when it is not apparent that Keoma can escape anything, however, when he is able to successfully out maneuver those around him, or receive help well before he needs it placing a vested interest in him as a character becomes quite difficult.  One could almost argue that Keoma's mythological stature, paired with quite the theme song, are almost mocking the sort of gunslinger imagery of the western, questioning the very nature of figures like Shane or Chance to pull from movies I have mentioned recently, yet it is also a movie that desperately wants to be cool, almost making a superhero out of Keoma.  In fact, the villainous nature of Caldwell is so inexplicably terrible that one almost assumes he has to be evil to create the perfect contrast for the saintly and good Keoma.  While none of this serves to ruin the film to any noticeable degree it is something I certainly struggled with while viewing and continue to toss around in my head well after it was over.  Perhaps that is the very nature of Keoma, to create such an absurdly infallable character that one does not embrace him for his hip, cool demeanor, but, instead; for his decidedly implausible nature.

Key Scene:  While there are cool scenes I want to draw attention here to the film's soundtrack.  As a friend put it, it is the only soundtrack that he simultaneously loves and hates.  While that statement may seem absurd those who have viewed the film will completely understand his sentiments.

The bluray for this is dirt cheap and even comes with another equally intriguing spaghetti western, there is really no justification not to grab a copy.

Everything Would Appear To Man As It Is...Infinite: Dead Man (1995)

Here I go finding myself already recanting statements from mere recent blog posts within the context of this all Western month.  I boldly asserted that it would take a lot to beat out Rio Bravo for the top spot, and while it is still excellent and deserved of high praise, Jim Jarmusch's take on a western that is Dead Man, is nothing short of perfection.  I was sold from the moment Crispin Glover delivered a mad monologue on the nature of knowledge, only to be absolutely hooked in by the very authoritative and aging presence of Robert Mitchum.  Of course, Dead Man is not simply excellent for its cameos (believe me there are a ton) but also for its absolute commitment to a specific ambience and visual narrative that manages to exist both within the confines of the western genre, while also pushing far beyond what constitutes the grounds of cinema.  Much like Coffee and Cigarrettes, another wonderful work by Jarmusch, Dead Man is an episodic experience, temporal and, arguably, spatial time are cut throughout by the use of fade-outs and fade-ins pushing towards a transcendent world, only held together by the presence of a singular character.  Unlike, Coffee and Cigarettes, Dead Man could easily exist within a bizarre dream sequence wherein the death fueled surrealist sequences and stark black and white cinematography cause one to think that the film may well be from the ouevre of Maya Deren as opposed to the constantly hip and always distinctly cool world of Jarmusch.  Dead Man exists as a sort of nightmare film one that is not as much creepy as it is incredibly oneiric, in fact, its use of chiaroscuro and shadowing make it reminiscent of the darkest of film noir works, only heightened by the thundering guitar riffs of Neil Young whose work on the soundtrack is top notch.  Dead Man is so many things, whether it be an existential reflection of naming or a critique of man's quest for power through produced wealth it does so with such a considered and focused narrative that I am quite certain it is my new favorite Jarmusch work, not to mention a great contender for a top twenty five film if I ever get around to reworking that list.


Dead Man centers on the travels of William Blake (Johnny Depp) a distanced and introverted young accountant who has been assigned a job in Machine, a town aptly named as it is on the cutting edge of industrialization in the west.  Upon arrival to his job, however, he is informed by the supervisor that he is far too late for the job and will have to seek work elsewhere.  In a moment of frustration he approaches the president of the company John Dickinson (Robert Mitchum) who indifferently dismisses Blake, instead; embracing his personal wealth as well as a rather fond admiration for his stuffed bear.  Defeated, Blake heads to the local saloon only to feel alienated by the rough and rumble nature of the place, stepping outside and helping a young woman who has been degraded by a patron mistaking her for a prostitute.  The incredibly grateful woman, who turns out to be an ex-prostitute lays down with William, much to the chagrin of her lover Charlie Dickinson (Gabriel Byrne) who arrives to their room post-intercourse.  Enraged Charlie attempts to shoot Blake, killing his lover instead and in a quick reflex Blake shoots Charlie.  This action results in his needing to flee, although he has been injured in the shootout, eventually passing out once he makes it to the woods.  Unfortunately for Blake, the Charlie he killed is directly related to John who uses his wealth and power to send a group of expert gunslingers after Blake.  Blake awakes to a hefty Native American man cleaning his wound and spouting about the absurdities of the white man, the man Nobody (Gary Farmer) upon Blake's name, assumes him to be the famous poet, treating him with a spiritual reverence, assuming him to be a spectral representation of the writer.  Needless to say, Nobody and Blake form a duo on the run from Blake's captors, who become more in the numbers as Blake grows in infamy, mostly a result of accidental killings and as a result of a considerable amount of help on the part of Nobody.  Eventually, however, the constant attacks grow to high and Blake is fatally wounded, leading to Nobody taking him to a Makah village for a final set of healing practices, which seem to double as funeral rites, considering that Nobody then sends Blake out to sea, only to result in Blake watching Nobody be gunned down by a pursuing gunslinger, left spiritually alone to float out to sea and perhaps into nothingness.

This movie is deeply ponderous and perfectly planned right from the opening moments.  Much like an early Buñuel film, Dead Man places clever, as well as obvious, hints and foreshadowings to Blake's evident death, whether it be coffins and animal skulls in the background, or a transfiguring of Blake's face into that of a skull during Nobody's peyote fueled vision quest.  While Jarmusch takes this existential preoccupation with death and identity to surrealist proportions, it is not a theme entirely unrelated to westerns as a whole.  Often, westerns by their very nature propose this question of one's meaning in the face of certain death, however, it is usually established within the opening shots, with a ton of deaths or a clever escape by the protagonist from a hanging or bar beat down.  This is not the case with Dead Man, viewers are asked by Jarmusch to move through a incredibly intertwined temporal and spatial narrative that implodes with death, each character becoming more attached to the viewer only to be killed off by the bullet of a gun at the last possible moment.  Jarmusch clearly wants those watching to value the death of each individual, even the despicable characters, because, after all, it is a piece of humanity being lost to what the narrative seems to imply is nothingness.  Often the camera lingers on a dying body, a particularly great example is one of Johnny "The Kid" Pickett (Eugene Byrd) as his young body floats in a puddle, blood slowly seeping into the murky water, made all the more poetic by the black and white cinematography.  Of course, the viewer is not to necessarily place their own identity in relation to these images, but instead; view them vicariously through the bewildered and growingly alienated Blake who seems to simply float through the world as an almost spectral presence, always nearly avoiding death and transcending physical harm, however, even Blake the apparent spirit of the film is capable of destruction.  Yet while Blake can be harmed, it is clever that the film closes on him floating away and not dying, making the deeply disconcerting nature of death seem frivolous in the spiritually calming nature of the closing shots, perhaps a gentle pat on the back from Jarmusch saying that worrying about death is futile, because when it comes it will simply happen and pondering over it would only result in misery and desolation.

Key Scene:  While this film is incredibly perplexing and serene, there are the classic moments of Jarmusch humor throughout, one such being Billy Bob Thorton's character spouting the world "philistine" as well as bemoaning being shot, which provided an excellent reprieve from the intellectually hefty nature of the film.  Also Iggy Pop in a dress certainly helped the scene.

This is a criminally under viewed film in that everyone should watch this, I cannot recommend it enough and demand that you seek out the bluray immediately.

Doesn't Anything Work Around Here?: Westworld (1973)

While I intend to include one highly experimental western, as well as an acid western in this month of movies devoted to one of cinema's classic and severely under seen genres, I am quite certain that Westworld will prove to be the biggest stretch in terms of falling within the confines of the genre.  Of course, it does have a heavy western feel and centrally exists within the landscape of the traditional west, it is primarily a science fiction feature, therefore, affording it the opportunity to expand beyond this space, to which it does with great pleasure.  Again, it is a sci-fi film at heart, but given that it is decidedly centered in creating the world of the western, I would suggest that Westworld, at the very least does for the period piece, what Cabin in the Woods did for horror films, or considering that it was written and directed by Michael Crichton it would be just as easy to suggest that this is a sort of Jurassic Park version 1.0, although I would contest that the believability is slightly higher in this setting, especially since it involves robots and the false safety individuals place within their control over machines, as opposed to a dangerous landscape occupied by genetic recreations of some of the most ferocious and dangerous beasts to ever roam Earth.  Much like other sci-fi classics that consider the role that artificial intelligence will play within the future and what threats are faced when the machines move closer to sentience and an understanding of their role, of course, Westworld exists in multiple fabrications of fantasy worlds, but Crichton, who both wrote and directed this film seems to be doing something particularly intriguing by focusing primarily on the wild west in his narrative, considering why somebody would decidedly travel to such an unruly and dangerous world, further extending an inquiry as to why viewers desire the decidedly violent, unruly world of the western for escapism, as such becoming a meta-cinematic reflection on the very nature of viewership and gazing on the threat of death in a vicarious desire.  Westworld, like many classic genre films, manages to exist in a perfect space between various genres, subsequently, becoming a hybrid of all that is great about science fiction, westerns and to a brief degree horror films.

Westworld focuses on a time not too far in the future where the wealthy are afforded the opportunity to spend their money to escape to vacation spots not of exotic beaches or isolated mountain peaks, but, instead; of past worlds with a certain degree of intangible lure.  In this world a person with enough money can go to either the hyper decadent Romanworld and engage in various forms of condoned debauchery, or they can go to the lavish and extravagent Medieval world to engage in their fantastic whims of being royalty.  A third option exists for the particularly daring who seek a world of constant threat and danger in Westworld, a recreation of the desolate and wild world of the American west.  Two friends John (James Brolin) and Peter (Richard Benjamin) decide to engage in this trip based on John's assurance that it is a great experience and completely harmless, in fact, John confesses that he feels it to be the perfect opportunity for Peter to move on past his recent divorce.  Once in Westworld John and Peter engage in all the vices offered in the historical west, whether it be whisky or prositutes, however, this is not before Peter has a run-in with Gunslinger (Yul Brynner), to which he kills, realizing the power he has as a tourist in a world of cyborgs.  After this shootout, Peter and John move through Westworld with a carefree attitude enjoying their vacation in what is essentially a sanitized version of the past.  The film occasionally cuts to one man's vacation in Medievalworld, where he finds himself engaging in a relationship with a young chambermaid, although it appears as though the cyborgs begin going against orders.  At this point the narrative exposes the world behind the simulacrums, where scientist run through algorithms and tests to assure safety, stating specific concern for a recent spike in robots going against orders.  After a flat out refusal to briefly shut down the resort things take a particular turn for the worse when Gunslinger emerges again and kills John in cold blood, going against his orders completely.  This falling apart occurs simultaneously to the other worlds, even causing an electronics issue in the main room of the resort.  The breakdown leaves Peter solely on the run against Gunslinger a chase the breaks outside of Westworld and through the various other worlds, eventually leading to a final showdown with the robot which requires Peter to exploit his heightened technological features to destroy him a task that requires multiple fatal blows.  In the end, Peter has one final run-in with another non-threatening robot which causes him to reconsider his entire understanding of humanity, as well as its blind reliance on the good of technology.

Again, Westworld is not really a western primarily and is certainly concerned primarily with being a science-fiction centered consideration of the role technology plays in society and to what degree its reliance is productive and where to draw they line in regards to heavily exploiting its non-human nature, particularly in a highly destructive manner.  However, I am quite convinced that a second layer exists in which Crichton is considering what exactly draws humanity towards curiosity for the violent and unruly.  One could extend this critique in many different directions whether it be a direct attention placed on violence and war on television or a concern with physical violence in social settings, these considerations are certainly present in Westworld, but it is not unreasonable to think that the film also really wants to consider why a person seeks westerns as a form of escapism, particularly since, compared to other periods or fantastical settings they are particularly ripe with terror and danger.  The western film, to pull in a trope as planned, exists in a state of despair or sadness for most characters, whether it be isolation based paranoia or post-gold rush induced poverty all is rarely good in the world of the western, in which matters are only worsened when an individual is of a non-white race or non-male gender.  I would boldly posit that much of the enjoyment in the world of the western is its decided set of signifiers between good and evil as well as its embracing for the lack of certainty and understanding that chaos serves a better world model than oppressive regimentation.  The wealthy within the context of this film, as well as those who seek westerns as escapism, are attempting to grapple with their own existential issues about humanity and in the process seek the inherent seeming order and signifiers of authority or villainy which underlie even the most chaotic world of a western.  Suffice it to say, the western manages to be an insane whirlwind of a film genre, while also managing to create rather clear borders on ethical questions, even in the most antiquated of sense.  While I am fully aware that westerns are loved by many ages, there is a particular age group that seems to absolutely adore them, whose young life was inevitably defined by the trouble good guy making sense of a chaotic world, something they perhaps brought along with themselves to their adult lives, applying it to their psychological and philosophical world view.

Key Scene:  The last fight between Peter and Gunslinger is intense and has a ton of jump moments, proving to be a great closing element to an all-around solid film.

This is an excellent movie and well worth nabbing and the bluray while a bit pricy is worth the investment.

No Quarter. No Mercy For The Loser: Rio Bravo (1959)

When it comes to the classic westerns, ones that almost all clock in at well over two hours in run time it is not just idea, but a necessity that they prove to be watchable, because there is absolutely nothing worse than a movie that drags on in the context of already being incredibly lengthy.  When it works it is something wonderful, like is the case with The Great Escape or with Seven Samurai.  Fortunately, as a filmmaker Howard Hawks lives in a world where dialogue is always engaging and the plot perplexing and this is certainly the case with his classic star-driven western Rio Bravo, which is both incredibly well-made and highly entertaining.  Within the matter of just under two and a half hours, viewers are teated to a variety of human identity issues being fleshed out and dealt with in great turn, while also avoiding the worrisome threat of being too preachy or misdirected.  Of course, Rio Bravo is more than just a traditional western that happens to just be really cool to watch, it manages to comfortably move about the genre specifics, without really leaving the space of its narrative, in fact, this movie has arguably been the most closed in within terms of character movement, only depicting the individuals within the relation to the town, and more so, within concern to the town jail and hotel.  Such a setup would be restrictive to most directors and performers, but within the world of a Howard Hawks film the more congested and restrictive the space the more he seems willing to absolutely blow the lid off of possibilities, whether it be a great turn at the comedic for John Wayne, or the wonderfully sentimental song number midway through the film.  Far before I ever envisioned this blog as a regular endeavor, let alone planned to devote an entire month to the genre of westerns, many of the individuals whose taste in film I highly admired, referred to the western as being their favorite genre, and while I am not quite committed to that kind of admiration, watching Rio Bravo has certainly led to me heavily reconsidering how much I have thought my top ten films to be solidified.  I would have to revisit my list of favorite all-time films, but considering how absolutely excellent Rio Bravo proved to be i would stand to call it my favorite western at the moment, although it is early in the month, with a ton of other classics on the docket so that is liable to change.

Rio Bravo begins with the stumbling and defeated The Dude (Dean Martin) walking into a bar sheepishly attempting to get a drink from anyone who will offer.  When the wily and troublesome Joe Burdette (Claude Akins) thinks it hilarious to throw a coin into the spitoon and watch The Dude fish it out, in steps John T. Chance (John Wayne) the local sheriff to reprimand Joe for his childish and degrading behavior, which invariably leads to a fight, in which The Dude in a moment of clarity helps Chance take back control, eventually leading to the arrest of Joe.  However, the run in with Joe is only one of Chance's problems and he, in fact, is having little success keeping a lid on the ruffians and wild folks who exist in and around his town.  Hoping to get The Dude back on the right track he hires him back on as an assistant sheriff, along with Stumpy (Walter Brennan) in a hopes that their unlikely combination will help to avoid trouble in the town.  Yet, when an old friend Pat Wheeler (Ward Bond) comes into town, along with a new hired hand Colorado Ryan (Ricky Nelson) only to see the dire state of Chance's town, he offers his services.  Chance refuses, however, noting that it is almost certain death and his workers will be too preoccupied with thoughts of their families to serve in any fruitful capacity. Instead, after some prodding and jousting on both ends Chance ends up attaining the aid of Colorado to standup against Joe's brother Nathan (John Russell) and his crew of lackeys.  Furthermore, Chance begins a relationship with Feathers (Angie Dickinson), as well as using Carlos (Pedro Gonzalez Gonzalez) and his hotel as a point of operations.  While the singular focus is on moving trouble from the town, Chance is also quite aware of the necessity involved in making sure that The Dude stays sober, a decidedly hard task when The Dude admits that any stint without hard liquor results in his sadness about his past, however, with some stern words from Chance and a moment of success on The Dude's part he comes around and realizes his possibilities as a crime fighter.  In the end Chance, The Dude, Colorado and eventually Stumpy use their small team to take on Nathan's entire posse, an endeavor made ever slightly easier with the aid of high powered explosives.  In the end Chance and Feathers openly admit their feelings, while Stumpy and The Dude patrol the streets of the much calmer and more civilized town.

Whiskey and heavy drinking are of course one of the major tropes, or at the very least themes within most westerns, and while the consumption of alcohol in heavy amounts is often depicted within the genre, very little is done in the way of drawing attention to the issues of alcoholism or the heavy and continue abuse of liquor.  Of course, the drunkard does emerge in films of this nature, but never in such a way as to be a main character, or one whose actions are explained and grounded.  As such, Rio Bravo, while very much about Chance's own attempts at reigning in an out of control town, perhaps an extension of his psyche, or about Colorado's drive to assert his own young masculinity, ultimately, exists as a film about recovery.  This recovery can of course be taken at a very literal level as The Dude Learns to manage his days without even the slightest of drinking which leads to him having varied mood swings and an absurd diet.  He is written of throughout as an alcoholic, so much so, that only Chance seems to support his push towards being sober, suggesting that much as is the case with Alcoholics Anonymous style systems, that each individual needs a person to work them through the toughest of times and be a voice to engage with or a shoulder to lean on.  Chance, as his name suggests, is a final vestige through which The Dude finds his salvation.  Of course, he is not, by any means, the only character attempting to reinvent himself, but Hawks' directorial style seems to emphasize The Dude and his particular concern for turning over a new leaf.  In many scenes the camera often lingers on The Dude as he fidgets and moves about the space, an unusual technique for the time, let alone the genre, however, perhaps the most obvious moment in which the narrative suggests that The Dude is attempting to redefine or reestablish himself comes when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, seeing himself shaved and clean is followed by his being attacked.  In the past his confrontations with a former self would have led him to the bottle, yet when tied up he must learn to suffice without the crutch, eventually finding solace and comfort in music instead.  The Dude and his movement from an addiction are central to the film, which is particularly intriguing since the film moves and feels like a western, while also being a very focused human drama.

Key Scene: The singing scene of course, so much musical excellence is occurring in that space, it is only a slight let down, however, that John Wayne does not join in the fun.

Hey, Where The White Women At?: Blazing Saddles (1974)

I promise that this month of westerns will consist of some more traditional notions of what the genre consists of and not complete revisionists examples of a western, however, I have had a bluray of Blazing Saddles sitting on my shelf for so long and knowing that I would fully enjoy it I figured it was appropriate to incorporate within this blogathon, especially since it does indeed allow me to grasp a variety of examples as to what exists within the genre over its century of films, furthermore, I am always in the mood to watch a Mel Brooks film because I know it will result in me laughing with genuine excitement as well embracing the magic of what has to be one of the most post-modern filmmakers to ever work in comedy.  As readers may well know, Blazing Saddles has a reputation that precedes itself and manages to be quoted by many individuals without even realizing they are quoting the comedy masterpiece.  This recent visiting of the film had been the first time in years, and I can vaguely remember watching it when I was younger and far too lacking in knowledge of both film and forms of comedy to appreciate it in its grand execution.  Of course, given that Mel Brooks has a complete disregard for any sort of political correctness or social limitations relating to his comedy, Blazing Saddles could easily offend a ton of people if they are not willing to detach themselves from their contemporary viewpoints.  I, on the other hand, would argue that Brooks is always aware of the layers of his comedy and never delivers a joke that could be deemed offensive or in bad taste without entrenching it within a simultaneous critique of the very nature of what makes the specific joke funny.  Furthermore, given the recent backlash against Tarantino for his use of racial slurs and race within the context of a western, it would seem as though all those madly throwing diatribes against the wall hoping they would stick to the ever changing walls of the internet, managed to, in most cases, disregard this film completely, and, while I would never say that it is offensive, the same critiques fired at Django Unchained, would certainly apply to Blazing Saddles, all be it in a comedic context, and knowing Tarantino's sharklike ability to consume films it is impossible to think that Brooks work was not on his mind, particularly in their use of a particularly infamous racist organization in their respective films.

Blazing Saddles is set at the height of post-war American West, wherein African-Americans although free, possessed little if any rights and found themselves subject to exploitative work and a lack of social mobility.  One such worker Bart (Cleavon Little) is forced to use a railroad car to check an spot of railing that might be within quicksand, leading to his near death and the final moment of frustration that leads him to take a shovel against his employer.  This act of frustration leads to his being placed in jail, under the supervision of State Attorney General Hedley Lamarr (Harvey Korman), who spends most of his time attempting to correct his name being mispronounced, as well as reigning in the antics of the state governor and sex fanatic William J. Le Petomane (Mel Brooks).  However, when the town of Rock Ridge expresses concern over suffering and exploitation at the hands of local marauders, Lamarr and Petomane, who have vested interests in the railroad moving through that town, decide to use Bart as a way to throw the town into chaos, while also making a selfish stride in civil rights for political purposes.  Bart, confused at his new job offer, nonetheless, takes it happily and arrives at Rock Ridge, only to be greeted with distrust and racial slurs, yet, Bart is an absolutely brilliant person and learns to manipulate the idiots of the town and the various attackers to his advantage, even gaining the help of the pseudo-alcoholic wash-up The Waco Kid (Gene Wilder) who sees past Bart's race and works with him to make the city safe and worthy of occupants.  Lamarr, still desiring to make money off of the railroad, sends in a gang to destroy the town, although Bart and The Waco Kid use this knowledge to plan a counter-defense, which leads to a fight between the town and gang, ultimately, breaking the fourth wall of the film and becoming a battle of all film genres within the studio lot and cafeteria at Warner Brothers Studios.  When all is done and Bart and The Waco Kid have won they ride their horses off into the sunset, or at least the distance required to reach the awaiting limousine.

Tropes, tropes, tropes...that will be the theme this month and boy does Blazing Saddles completely throw these notions out the window.  While this is easily achievable within the context of the film being a comedy, Brooks manages to layer his deconstruction of the western as well as revisionist pieces that seem intent on suggesting that the landscape was anything but misogynistic and racist.  Characters like Bart and Lili Von Sthupp (Madeline Kahn) exist within the space of Rock Ridge to show how individuals of the era would likely have acted towards persons not white or male in the rough and tumble western towns.  Of course, revisionist westerns are filled with characters who seem completely at peace with racist internalizations and embrace oppressed individuals gladly.  For example, while Unforgiven is an excellent film, it certainly suffers from this high degree of over optimism regarding race relations, where as the previously mentioned Django Unchained, as well as Blazing Saddles make it quite clear that even the most open and liberal of minds in the era suffer from racist notions.  The Waco Kid is certainly willing to trust Bart, but that is not without first testing the waters and even then he still has moments in which racist assumptions move through his interactions.  In fact, should a person think that Blazing Saddles does not expressly concern itself with issues of race and the layers to which people acted in the past, his decided inclusion of an actor as Hitler, as well as a parallel between Nazi's and the Ku Klux Klan drives that notion directly into viewers minds, because if racism existed in 1930's and 1940's Germany its likelihood of existing in the 1870's American West was undeniable.  Furthermore, considering that racial issues were still huge in America in the mid-seventies, the commentary Brooks provides within Blazing Saddles adds a layer of meta-criticism, as some viewers were likely to retain similar, if not more degrading notions, of African American to those of Rock Ridge.  Of course so many other rejections of the western genre and its tropes occur, particularly when it is staginess is revealed, but an entire lecture could be formulated around Brooks use of post-modernism in such a way.

Key Scene:  There are so many zany, over-the-top moments in this film as far as comedy is concerned, but the subtlety Wilder uses in the very funny "smoking" scene had me laughing well after it moved on to another situation.

This bluray is super cheap and looks amazing, furthermore, it is a maddeningly funny film and you have no excuse not to own a copy.

Life Is About Chasing And Being Chased: The Good, The Bad, The Weird (2008)

Considering that the month of May is to be devoted to westerns entirely, it should be little surprise that I will include, at some point, at least one spaghetti western, but the most recent viewing was not to be that instance.  I felt it only necessary to begin by contrasting one of the most traditional notions of a western, with one of the most unusual and revisionist westerns to date, in what has been dubbed by some to be a "kimchi" western.  Of course, this proves a double bonus for me because the film in question The Good, The Bad, The Weird, manages to be both a western and a Korean film simultaneously, therefore, making a perfect fit within the constraints of this month of specific films while also managing to allow me another viewing within my specific concern for expansion in the particulars of East Asian cinema.  The director of The Good, The Bad, The Weird, Jee-woon Kim recently received notoriety on this blog for his wonderfully absurd The Foul King and continually proves to be a diverse and engaging filmmaker, although I am not so sure that his English-language debut will prove as rewarding and intense as Chan-wook Park's Stoker.  What viewers receive in the highly engaging and action heavy adaptation (all be it, quite loose) of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly is nothing short of a simultaneous embracing of everything within the tradition of westerns, as well as a complete rejection of its traditionalist notions of periodization.  In fact, it is quite impossible to tell whether the film and its narrative exists somewhere far in the past, or is simply an insanely realized dystopia loaded with some of the most vile, yet incredibly engaging individuals.  Between its decidedly modern soundtrack and use of masterful cinematic and editing techniques, The Good, The Bad, The Weird nearly bursts at the seams of the genre, but when it matters it manages to reign in its narrative beautifully, ultimately, adhering to the idea of a western film when it matters most, moving from the embracing of ultra-cool gunslingers to the stark and alienating realization that their own concerns with anonymity and indifference are exactly what will result in their being alone in their last moments of life.

As a pseudo-remake of Leone's classic spaghetti western, Kim's film centers around three distinct characters attempting to attain a map that will lead them to a treasure buried by a group of Japanese soldiers.  The Bad (Byung-hun Lee) is a ruthless, thief and assassin who pulls a cue from Johnny Cash, moving through the world of Manchuria donning black clothing and a smoldering scowl befit to set the world ablaze.  The Weird (Kang-ho Sung) is a madman whose lone wolf nature and complete indifference for social etiquette allow him to move about the landscape with an absurdly carefree attitude that seems to make him immune to death, although it is clear from early on that he harbors a rather intense past.  Finally, The Good (Woo-sung Jung) stands as a symbol of justice with his shotgun and leather trench coat, he screams out to be the epitome of the sheriff figure in the world, although, like his two rivals he possesses his own problematic selfishness, which all runs amok when the three become aware of a the previously mentioned treasure map and its seemingly endless fortunes.  However, while the three are clearly adept shooters and generally superior in every way, they are certainly not the only ones after the cherished items, confronting entire armies, motorcycle riding bandits and a gang of black market dealers along the way.  Moving through the space of Manchuria, The Good and The Weird end up begrudgingly relying on one another to assure their outpacing of the maniacal The Bad who seems perfectly willing to kill all persons who bar his path and eventual success.  It becomes clear, however, that The Bad's desire to beat the other two to the treasure has a high degree of revenge about it, so much so that he openly states his willingness to reprimand an injustice.  After a handful of wild shootouts and chases, the three meet at the point of the treasure only to discover it to be far different that suggested, resulting in them making a game out of who is to survive that ends in a truly fatal manner, while the map blows away, revealing a treasure none of them expected.

Given that the setting of The Good, The Bad, The Weird is assumed to be in an unusual western world within the context of East Asia it has a certain impossibly ethereal nature about it, which makes it seem more science fiction than western, however, tropes, which will be the manner by which I approach the films this month, nonetheless emerge.  In the case of this film everything has to do with identity and reappropriating one's past.  For The Good, it is clear that he seeks to enact his wild sense of justice upon the landscape, one that breaks laws and moral guidelines when it fits the warped idea of good he seems to have created and reflects nicely on the often ambiguous nature law has within the traditional western.  The Bad, much like The Good, is far more than his name suggests and indeed moves through the filmic space with a quest for revenge firstly, and an obtaining of riches second.  Of course, he seems willing to kill those in his path, but his silence speaks to the inability he possesses to speak to his suffering which is both unusual and traumatic.  Finally, in, as his name would suggest, bizarre contrast is The Weird, who absolutely rejects any sense of normalcy and moves through the madness of Manchuria expressly concerned with the most basic human needs and a desire to stay alive, yet it proves by the films closing to be the case that The Weird is indeed the most flawed of the three central figures, making his place within the quest for inconceivable riches one driven by his desire to clean his impure slate and return to a simpler lifestyle, one with livestock and agrarian simplicity.  The past for each of these men is both obtuse and decidedly troublesome, allowing the expansive deserts and tight alleys of the cities to serve as figurative escapes from not only the threat of death, but from their own trouble psyches.  Furthermore, given that contemporary Korean cinema is particularly concerned with deconstructing the patriarchal nature of masculinity, the film doubles as a sort of rejection of unchecked male privilege, especially in the closing moments of the film, wherein what is essentially a large scale pissing contest, results in an exceptionally defeatist end.

Key Scene:  Given that it necessarily had to borrow the famous three way shoot out, Kim manages to both do credit to Leone's directorial choice, while updating it into something newly engaging and cinematically fresh.

This is on Netflix watch instantly, drop what you are doing and watch it immediately.

Right Or Wrong It's A Brand...A Brand Sticks: Shane (1953)

Considering that I am quite lacking in regards to a ton of different genres and need to fill in gaps in a large range of viewing fields, I have decided to make a regular thing of having themed months, especially over the summer when I am afforded considerably more time to engage with films on an intimate and intentional level.  I plan to make these varied to genres, countries and eras contingent upon funding and availability, so as much as I would love to dedicate a month to Iranian cinema it may be quite awhile before it make the list, however, I figured one of the best places to start this endeavor would be with one of my weakest viewing areas, westerns, a focus that would allow me to navigate not only a large amount of unseen films with critical acclaim, but much to my suprise also allowed will also allow me to move outside of America on more than one occasion.  Furthermore, I feel as though my theoretical framework concerning westerns is lacking so I also plan to supplement my viewings with various readings about the genre, as well as the ways in which post-modern filmmaking has decidedly altered what viewers expect out of a western film.  My hope is to draw some connections between its evolution while filling in the various viewing gaps I have in my must-see movies.  Of course, I will not make it to every important western, nor will I be afforded the time to revisit most of the works I have already seen, such as The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, or the more recent Django Unchained, but know that if it seems to be an egregious omission, chances are I have probably already seen it.  With all this considered I tried to find a super straight forward traditionalist western to begin the month and was able to do so with incredible and very watchable success with Shane, a early fifties western that manages to pull together many of the tropes of the genre without becoming so self-involved with these messages as to completely lose its cinematic zeal.  Furthermore, aside from the presence of Elisha Cook, Jr. who seemed to be in every other movie from say 1945 to 1960, the film is relatively minimal in its use of big name actors making for a director's picture which George Stevens delivers magnificently.  Shane is a western in the most classic of sense and incorporates the burning and vibrant world of technicolor to serve its thematic concepts and expansive world with great zeal.

Shane is a film that makes its theme and central figure quite obvious from the title, however, to foolishly assume that Shane is the entirety of this film would prove illogical, particularly since he is not even initially introduced in the film.  Instead, the film begins with the endeavors of a pioneer family led by patriarch Joe Starrett (Van Heflin) and his wife Marien (Jean Arthur) along with their son Joey (Brandon DeWilde) as they attempt to make their own in the wild lands of Wyoming amidst the corruption and constant berating of local ruffian and town bully Rufus Ryker (Emile Meyer).  Accepting everything but outright failure, the family is approached by an lone rider named Shane (Alan Ladd), whose willingness to help the family is greatly appreciated and each of the family members takes a particular liking to the elusive and enigmatic rider.  Of course, when faced with the absurd actions of Ryker and his group of no-good lackeys, Shane stand against them with a dignified demeanor, leading to Joe also fighting for what he believes to be right, much to the concern of fellow pioneers who see his actions as a sure fire way to get Ryker to burn down each of their settlements in the name of pride.  Of course, Shane and his particularly unknown past comes with a sense of moral rightness that must challenge the wrongdoings of Ryker, even if it means placing those around him in danger, particularly when Ryker discovers that Shane has a past as a gunslinger and brings another of Shane's enemies into the picture to cause a stir.  Nonetheless, inspired by Shane and the begging of his son and wife, Joe decides that he must also stand against the wrong doing, a decision that is solidified when one of his fellow settlers is killed at the hands of the hired shooter.  Shane realizing that the only assurance of wellbeing for the citizens of the town will be his ending of Ryker and his men and his subsequent leaving result in him making a final stand against the gang, an act that would have proven fatal were it not for a last minute warning from Joey.  As Shane leaves, and Joe has reasserted his leadership in the community, Joey begs for Shane to stay, but since he is destined to wander, he simply rides away in silence.

Shane is about as traditional as westerns come, which is great because it allows me to discuss, in considerable brevity, some of the tropes of the western.  Firstly, given the moral ambiguity present in the "wild" west, the distinctions between good and evil manifest themselves in a decidedly obvious way, in the case of this film Shane proves to be the near-angelic figure of goodwill, while Ryker is bad and his subsequent hiring of a gunslinger certainly plays the devil to Shane's angel.  Second, westerns nearly always contain a character in the film which possesses a problematic past for which they are desperately trying to outrun, of course in the context of this film it is obviously Shane, although in later films discussed this month it will manifest itself in multiple characters in the same film causing narrative discord and a degree of moral ambiguity, even amongst the identifiably good characters.  Finally, Shane very much entrenches itself within the sort of homosocial desires and bonds present within the genre and within pioneer life as a whole.  Many of the historical narratives and most westerns exist centrally in the masculine and to a considerable degree Shane is a film that entrenches itself within this world, even attributing the undeniable phallic elements of the gun, fully emphasized by Joey and his desirous gaze each time Shane engages in a feat that could relate to his gunslinger past.  In fact, amidst the horses, whiskey drinking and cemetery on a hill outside the town, it is hard to find something that is against the norm within this traditional western, but considering that Joe is depicted with his wife and son is perhaps one of the most revolutionary elements of a western to date.  It is a rare thing for a female presence to occupy the world of a western without being either a prostitute or a Native American and Shane possesses multiple characters who counter this notion.  Sure it is problematic that Marien and Shane clearly create a degree of sexual tension, but considering that it is not acted upon and is no less intense than the sexual tension between Joe and Shane or Joey and Shane it is quite intriguing and certainly an early example of a rejection of the most base of western tropes.

Key Scene:  The bar fight is over-the-top and great fun amidst and otherwise surprisingly calm film.

Shane is an excellent film and often finds itself placing well amongst the best westerns of all time, not to mention the best American films of all time.  I highly recommend watching it on Netflix before it is invariably pulled off for something worse.