Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay “Heroes shouldn’t be clay statues, but they should have feet of clay.” – John Ford About a month ago, I wrote about my general distaste for Western films. There are many issues I have with the genre as a whole and many of the classics that reside within it, but I do not want to rehash those here. Instead, I want to devote my energy to sharing with you some Western films that I genuinely enjoy. I even LOVE some of them.
So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966) Following the commercial success of Sergio Leone’s second Clint Eastwood-starring Western, For a Few Dollars More, the Beverly Hills-based studio United Artists longed for the film’s writer, Luciano Vincenzoni, to sign on for a third one. While Leone himself had no plans for a threequel, he gave Vincenzoni permission to pursue an idea for a film “about three rogues who are looking for some treasure at the time of the American Civil War.” Once he was involved, however, Leone injected his own agenda to show “the absurdity of…the Civil War” through the misadventures of Vincenzoni’s “rogues.” Vincenzoni ultimately left the project, but received final screenplay credit along with Leone and the Italian comedy-writing duo Age & Scarpelli (Agenore Incrocci and Furio Scarpelli), although Leone later claimed that they contributed only one line to the final script. The movie took two months to film during the summer of 1966, spanning studios in Rome to the plateau regions of Spain. Released in December of that year, The Good, the Bad and Ugly went on to gross over twenty-five million dollars on a budget of just over one million dollars. Despite receiving mixed reviews upon release due to cinephiles of the time holding derision for the “Spaghetti Western,” the film went on to cement its place among the pantheon of the best classic Westerns ever made. Having seen many of these classics, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is easily one of my favorites. Granted, that’s not saying much considering my general distaste for old Westerns. But I really was not expecting to like this movie; I found Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars to be mildly entertaining and the follow-up For a Few Dollars More to be ultimately forgettable. Also, knowing that Leone’s trilogy of Westerns only became longer as they went on, I was very nervous about this three-hour affair. Fortunately, my low expectations were subverted and exceeded with The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. There is a lot that I liked about this movie. To begin with the three lead performances, who (in my humble opinion) all excel at who they need to be. Clint Eastwood is by far the most badass as the “Man with No Name” in this film compared to Leone’s previous two Westerns that he starred in. He carries himself with a confidence that I think can only be found after Eastwood had played this role multiple times (not all that dissimilar from Hugh Jackman’s evolution as Wolverine over the course of seventeen years). In contrast to Eastwood’s dry, sardonic sense of humor, Eli Wallach plays off him very well as Tuco (“The Ugly”), the oafish yet cunning Mexican bandit. For me, some of the best scenes in the film are the ones focused on “Blondie” and Tuco trying to one up each other (notably the “hanging scene”). Given how intense the film can get, Wallach is a great source of comedic relief. While I enjoy Eastwood’s and Wallach’s performances more, I think it is Lee Van Cleef’s portrayal of “Angel Eyes,” the sadistic mercenary who follows Blondie and Tuco’s trail in the hopes of securing the buried gold for himself, that goes down as the best individual actor of the trio. For a film called The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, all of these characters are bad to one degree or another. “Blondie,” for example, is bad when he needs to be to survive or accomplish his mission. Tuco, on the other hand, is bad when he sees an opportunity to get a leg up on his competition. But “Angel Eyes” is bad because he likes to be; it is a way of life that clearly gives him some sort of emotional satisfaction. This is perhaps best exemplified in the torture scene when “Angel Eyes,” disguised as a Union officer, tortures Tuco in an effort to find out the name on the tombstone where the gold is buried. While the scene may not stand up today from an ethical standpoint, it certainly accomplishes what it set out to do in showing just how ruthless “Angel Eyes” is. Unlike the other two protagonists of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Van Cleef’s characters truly embodies “The Bad.” At the end of the day, what I really like about this film boils down to the essence of what the “Spaghetti Western” is all about. Unlike some of the other old Westerns that seem to take themselves so seriously it hurts, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly knows what it is and runs with it. Without question, the spirit of this particular subgenre is best embodied by the climactic, three-way duel scene between “Angel Eyes,” Tuco and the “Man with No Name.” Everything from the cinematography and editing to Ennio Morricone’s iconic score (WAH! WAH! WAH!) make this scene the epitome of the “Spaghetti Western.” While I will not watch it every year, it is one that I look back on fondly and will certainly watch again at some point in my life. For any fan of Westerns, Eastwood, or just silly adventure movies, you cannot go wrong with The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) Acclaimed novelist and screenwriter William Goldman (All the President’s Men, The Princess Bride) initially became familiar with the misadventures of British-American robber Butch Cassidy in the 1950s. After eight years of on-and-off independent research, Goldman began writing an original screenplay rather than adapting an already-existing novel detailing Cassidy’s story. (Ironically, Goldman would become famous adapting several novels, including some of his own) After some pushback from prospective studio buyers who protested about the film’s protagonists fleeing to South America, Goldman managed to sell it after a mere few pages’ worth of rewrites. Goldman’s project quickly became a star vehicle for actor Paul Newman (The Hustler, Cool Hand Luke, The Color of Money), who was offered the role only after Jack Lemmon, Warren Beatty, and Steve McQueen turned it down. His co-star was the then-relative newcomer Robert Redford (The Sting, All the President’s Men, The Old Man & the Gun). With its stars in place and filming completed, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid premiered in September of 1969, eventually grossing over one-hundred million dollars in North America alone on a six-million-dollar budget. Upon release, however, the film was somewhat poorly received by critics. According to Goldman, American critics disliked the film more so than those internationally. Many thought the writing was tonally lopsided and the acting all over the place. Still, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was nominated for seven Academy Awards and won four, including Best Original Screenplay for Goldman. And over time, the film has cemented its place as one of the most iconic pieces of mid-20th-century American cinema. Its writing has also been re-examined, with the Writers Guild of America (WGA) ranking Goldman’s screenplay #11 on a 2006 list of the 101 Greatest Screenplays ever. I am very happy that Goldman’s screenplay received Oscar attention at the time and has earned its place among today’s cinephiles. For me, the best thing about Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is the writing. While I understand why many critics at the time found it tonally confused, I think that it was ahead of its time. Goldman’s dialogue between the main characters is really engaging, witty, and smart. Unlike many old movies in which the comedic writing lacks the punch to induce laughter in modern viewers, this film does just that. As a result, the film transcends its era with a script and story injected with clever, character-driven interactions that keep it entertaining throughout. Of course, the second-best thing about this film is the chemistry between its two leads. Paul Newman and Robert Redford as Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid, respectively, are an absolute joy to watch. Throughout the film, I laughed with them, I tensed up when they were in danger, and I felt happy when they narrowly escaped a dangerous situation. I understand how the pairing of these two characters (á la other famous Hollywood pairings such as Bonnie and Clyde) have made their mark on popular culture to this day. While perhaps not the most sophisticated Western film, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid earns its place among some of the best of the genre. Definitely worth a watch. Dances with Wolves (1990) By the mid-1970s, the heyday of the Western was long over with the genre now being lampooned in 1974’s Blazing Saddles and stretched too thin in films like High Plains Drifter. With the 1980s being dominated by science fiction films and action-packed blockbusters, many cinephiles at the time believed that the Western was officially dead. And they were right. But what they were unable to foresee was a “pseudo-renaissance” for the genre that would allow many great subversions of and alternate takes on the Western to come to fruition over the next three decades. In my humble opinion, this renaissance began with the 1990 Best Picture winner Dances with Wolves. During the 1980s, Michael Blake was a struggling author who had met and made Hollywood connections with actor Kevin Costner (The Untouchables, Field of Dreams, JFK) who encouraged him to turn his Western “spec script” into a novel to better its chances of being made into a film. After several publishers turned him down, Blake’s script was eventually turned into a novel in 1988. Almost immediately, Costner purchased the film rights with the hopes of directing it and requested Blake to write a screenplay based on his novel. Due to the length of Blake’s screenplay and Hollywood deeming the Western no longer profitable, Costner struggled for some time to fund the project. Eventually, he prevailed and the film began production in July of 1989 in South Dakota and wrapped principal photography in November. Filmed on a rather sizeable budget for the time of twenty-two million dollars, Dances with Wolves defied all expectations by grossing over four-hundred million dollars worldwide and becoming universally praised by critics and audiences alike. It was nominated for twelve Oscars (winning seven, including Best Original Screenplay and Best Director), and was the first Western to win Best Picture since the 1931 epic Cimarron. In 2007, the film was inducted into the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress for preservation. In recent years, the film has been re-examined for its portrayal of Native Americans and its overreliance on tropes of the genre, such as the “white savior” narrative and the “noble savage” character. While some Lakota and other indigenous activists commend the film and hold its place high within their community, Dances with Wolves has received criticism for its misuse of indigenous dialects. Still, many cinephiles today uphold Costner’s epic as one of the best films of the 1990s and one of the best Westerns of all time. Until my most recent re-watch a week ago, I had only seen Dances with Wolves once many years ago. And, until last week, I had never seen the four-hour long “director’s cut.” Upon seeing it for the second time, I was in awe of what I was watching. I knew that it would be a good movie, but having never been this film as an adult I realized what growing up I needed to do in order to truly appreciate Dances with Wolves. I could dedicate an entire blog on picking apart this movie, so I will do my best to condense my major thoughts and takeaways in about half that length. First, I want to highlight the technical achievement that the film is. The work of cinematographer Dean Semler, in tandem with Kevin Costner’s direction, captures the transcendent beauty of the American landscape in a way that most Westerns (even good ones) struggle to do. In my previous blog about Westerns, I noted that films like The Searchers do an excellent job at portraying the picturesque quality of the American West. In general, this is one of the things that I have come to enjoy about Westerns, and Dances with Wolves brings modern camera techniques and technology to this mission and excels at giving us some of the best examples of “every frame a painting” ever put on the silver screen. Now onto the story, which I found immensely powerful despite knowing its general trajectory. Much of my being impressed with it had to do with the first twenty-five minutes in which we see our protagonist, Lt. John Dunbar (Costner), avoid having his leg amputated at all costs. Having already suffered the travails of war, he decides to mount a horse and ride headlong towards enemy lines as a means of assisted suicide. Instead, his actions are deemed heroic by his comrades who are inspired to charge the enemy and win the day. As a reward for putting himself in harm’s way, Dunbar is allowed to be transferred to any post in the country. He decides to go to Fort Sedgwick in the Colorado Territory because he wants to see the West “before it disappears.” However, I think the unsaid reason behind Dunbar’s decision is that he seeks an escape from everything and everyone he knows so that he can live out his life alone in the hopes of never having to face the brutal realities of war ever again. This subtext is crucial to appreciating the movie to the fullest extent. For Dunbar’s journey is truly “epic” in the classical sense. He begins the story as a lonely soldier who wants nothing more than to live out his life in isolation, and ends the story as a completely different man who has found love, family, and greater purpose in a culture that was foreign to him most of his life. Ultimately, Dunbar’s journey has become one of my favorites in all of cinema. I knew that this movie was truly a classic about halfway through during the “buffalo hunt” scene. On the one hand, Semler’s cinematography and Costner’s direction coalesce to provide some of the best shots in cinematic history. The ability to capture herds of buffalo interacting with actors on horseback in real time is simply breathtaking to see on screen. But it is also the visual storytelling that happens here, with Dunbar no longer an outsider who the Lakota approach apprehensively. Instead, as he hunts with them and saves Smiles A Lot (Nathan Lee Chasing His Horse), one of the younger Lakota, from a charging buffalo, Dunbar becomes accepted by the Lakota as one of them in mind and spirit if not in body. One of my personal favorite elements of the film is the symbolic use of animals. In many ways, the three major animals of the film―Sisco (Dunbar’s horse), Two Socks (the wolf that Dunbar befriends at Fort Sedgwick), and the buffalo―represent the evolution of Dunbar as a man but also the duality of good and evil all wrapped up in the American frontier. Sisco is the last remnant of Dunbar’s time at war and, as such, his only hearty attachment to his old life and white society at large. Two Socks, on the other hand, is Dunbar’s first friend that he meets on the frontier. Prior to any positive interactions with the Lakota, Two Socks becomes a regular and comforting presence during his isolation at Fort Sedgwick. The buffalo, meanwhile, are the primary food source for the Lakota and the most popular target for white hunters and soldiers. As we watch the heartache of the Lakota and Dunbar coming across the field of rotting buffalo stripped of their hides, we realize with them that the inevitable is already happening. The arrival of the white man in the West is made all the more tragic when, within the span of twenty minutes, the U.S. Army kills Sisco in an effort to shoot Dunbar (who they mistake as a Lakota) and Two Socks merely to entertain themselves. Not only are these deaths heart wrenching to watch, but they also represent the official death of Lt. John Dunbar and the birth of the newest member of the Lakota, “Dances with Wolves.” To address some of the critiques of Dances with Wolves, I want to offer my take on the notion that the film somewhat misses the mark in its portrayal of Lakota culture. Specifically, some have pointed out the misgendered dialect spoken by Costner and many of the indigenous male actors on screen. While I understand this concern and by no means want to belittle the issue, I think it is important to acknowledge the significance of how this film rights the wrongs of past Westerns. Films like Stagecoach belittled and dehumanized the indigenous peoples who were subjugated, abused, and murdered by white America’s desire to achieve its “manifest destiny.” Instead of doing that, Dances with Wolves injects some well-deserved and long-overdue humanity into the likes of Kicking Bird (Graham Greene), Wind In His Hair (Rodney A. Grant), and Chief Ten Bears (Floyd Red Crow Westerman). The other side of this coin, of course, is the film’s cartoonish portrayal of the U.S. Army as greedy, cruel, overtly racist, and downright inhuman. While some may view this as cheap, I forgive it as an obvious subversion of how the Westerns of old portrayed indigenous peoples who fought the “noble” white settlers as bloodthirsty savages lacking empathetic motivations. Certainly, this is a slight exaggeration of the general attitudes of white society and how the Army viewed their mission overall. But, I find it not all that distracting considering the Army only shows up in the last forty-five minutes of the film. One final critique that I would like to address is the idea that Dances with Wolves falls into the trap of being a “white savior” film. For the unfamiliar, the “white savior” trope in cinematic storytelling dictates that a white character rescue non-white characters from unfortunate circumstances. In doing so, that white character learns something about themselves which reinforces the notion that virtues, ethics, and morality are racially and/or culturally inherent to whiteness. Based on how I see the character arc of Dunbar in the film, I simply do not buy this critique. From my point of view, Dunbar never seeks to “rescue” the Lakota from their circumstances (only telling Kicking Bird about the Army’s impending arrival after officially becoming one of them) but instead embraces their way of life. Furthermore, the relationships that Dunbar develops with characters like Kicking Bird and Stands with a Fist (Mary McDonnell) serve to convince Dunbar that his desire for isolation is not ultimately the right path. In other words, the Lakota save Dunbar from himself more than the other way around. All in all, Dances with Wolves brings the best of old and new Westerns, culminating in the best film of the genre to date. If there is one better, I would love to see it. True Grit (2010) Having made a name for themselves in Hollywood by making a number of irreverent dark comedies and thrillers that subvert or parody genre, the co-directing brothers Joel and Ethan Coen (Fargo, The Big Lebowski, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs) made quite the buzz in March of 2009 when they announced their pursuit of a new film adaptation of Charles Portis’s 1968 novel “True Grit.” At the time, some believed that the 1969 film adaptation of the novel (in which John Wayne’s performance earned him his only Oscar for Best Actor) could not be topped. I wouldn’t know since I’ve not seen the 1969 version. That being said, if I ever do watch it, I’ll be shocked if it tops the Coen Brothers’ 2010 film True Grit. In adapting this novel for the big screen in the 21st century, the Coens sought to make a more faithful adaptation by emphasizing the humorous yet headstrong point-of-view of the story’s narrator and protagonist, 14-year-old Mattie Ross. Thus, they invested much of their time during pre-production searching through a pool of 15,000 prospective young actresses to find the right young woman to play the tough-as-nails, steely-nerved protagonist. Filmed on location in New Mexico and Texas in the spring of 2010, True Grit was released in December that year and ended up grossing just over a quarter-of-a-billion dollars at the box office. The film was universally acclaimed, with many calling it one of the best films of the year. Furthermore, both lead actors (Jeff Bridges as U.S. Marshal Rooster Cogburn and Hailee Steinfeld as Mattie Ross) were nominated for Oscars. I remember not really enjoying True Grit the first time I saw it. Granted, I was in my early teens and thus lacked the attention span to appreciate what the Coen Brothers were trying to do with this film. It was only with my second viewing as a young adult that I fell in love with the movie. First and foremost, I was super impressed with Steinfeld’s performance as Mattie Ross. In the span of two hours, I found her charming, intimidating, foolhardy, spirited, and innocent. For such a young actor to portray such emotional complexity, while not unheard of, is quite rare. I am certainly grateful that the Coens chose Steinfeld for this character, both for what she does in True Grit and what it did for her career since I’ve greatly enjoyed her in everything else that I’ve seen her in (she’s basically the only reason that I’m excited for Marvel Studios’ Hawkeye 😊). All of the other performances, big and small, are great too. Bridges as the hard-headed, washed-up officer of the law Rooster Cogburn is a real pleasure to watch. He plays the role humorous and light when necessary, but also knows when to turn on the more unsettling aspects of Cogburn’s personality in the face of danger. In many ways, Bridges’ Cogburn is one of the best examples of the true “anti-hero” in cinema. (My only real critique is his speech patterns as I really tried to understand him but half the time just couldn’t). Regarding the secondary characters, I think that Matt Damon plays his role in the story well enough as LaBoeuf, the more honorable of the two law enforcement officers who aid Mattie in her quest to avenge her father’s death (although that’s not saying much). Also, Josh Brolin accomplishes a tough balancing act. On the one hand, the story of Tom Chaney killing Mattie’s father (told, of course, through Mattie’s eyes) builds up a mythic reputation of this dastardly outlaw of the Wild West. Instead, when Mattie meets Chaney in the flesh she discovers that he is simply one of the goons working for gang leader “Lucky” Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper) and is in many ways an outsider at this point in his criminal career. Only a great actor such as Brolin could pull off this character who is both sad and intimidating at the same time. Ultimately, I think this is a meta-commentary on what the Coen Brothers had to do in True Grit. In order to give audiences in the 21st century a good Western flick, they had to embrace the elements of the genre that are timeless (i.e. landscape cinematography, mythmaking, moral ambiguity, the hero’s journey) while also forgoing some of its less appealing components. And while the film’s deliberate pace can feel like drudgery at times, I think True Grit stands as one of the Coen Brothers’ best films and remains one of my favorite Western movies today. The Hateful Eight (2015) Fresh off the success of his 2012 revisionist Western action flick Django Unchained, writer-director Quentin Tarantino (Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Inglorious Basterds) set to work on another Western film. Originally intended to be a sequel to the aforementioned film, Tarantino ultimately decided to make the story original and unrelated to any of his previous projects. Unfortunately, the script leaked in January of 2014. Initially discouraged and making plans to publish it as a novel, Tarantino ended up organizing a live table reading in Los Angeles that April which involved many of the actors who ended up being cast in the film (Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell and Walton Goggins, to name a few). After finalizing the cast later that year, filming of Tarantino’s newest project began in December on a 900-acre ranch in southwest Colorado. The movie was shot on 65 mm film by cinematographer and regular Tarantino collaborator Robert Richardson, and was then transferred over to 70 mm during post-production. The Hateful Eight was released on Christmas Day in 2015, becoming a modest box office success and soliciting a diverse array of opinions from critics. While some called it one of the best films of the year, others thought it lacked the clever writing and characterization of previous Tarantino features. Nevertheless, the film ended up on multiple top-ten lists that year and was nominated for three Academy Awards, with Ennio Morricone winning Best Original Score for his second-to-last film composition before his death in July of 2020. I have only recently become a fan of Tarantino’s filmography. Some of my favorites include his sophomore effort (and, in my humble opinion, his best film) Pulp Fiction, his underrated homage to blaxploitation cinema Jackie Brown, and his most recent feature film Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. But the first of his movies that I ever saw (without really associating it with Tarantino) was The Hateful Eight. And boy was I impressed. What I love more than anything about this film is Tarantino’s expert use of his ensemble cast. The tense but enjoyable interactions between many of these characters is what makes The Hateful Eight stand out. Having seen all of Tarantino’s movies, I contend that his dialogue has not been this strong since Pulp Fiction. Even though it is an original idea, it feels like Tarantino is adapting a stage play in all the best ways. He uses the tense, claustrophobic environment that his amazing cast fosters within Minnie’s Haberdashery to a degree that few filmmakers of similar skill and experience are capable of. Speaking of the cast, the heart and soul of The Hateful Eight comes from its incredible ensemble. While Tarantino involves some veteran actors from his previous films (notably Samuel L. Jackson, Tim Roth, and Michael Madsen), many of the “Tarantino newcomers” here stand out just as much if not more so. For much of the film, the standout performances in my mind are Kurt Russell as John “The Hangman” Ruth and Jennifer Jason Leigh as his bounty, Daisy Domergue. The harsh and brutal, yet mutually up-front, dynamic between these two is so fascinating to watch. Having seen the film twice, Russell and Leigh’s chemistry is simultaneously troubling and absorbing. But in the latter half of the film, it is Samuel L. Jackson as Major Warren and Walton Goggins as Chris Mannix that stand out. Their ability to be in each other’s corner one minute, threaten to turn on each other the next, and ultimately find some kinship in each other as their stories come to a mutual end is just fantastic. In many ways, my fondest memories of many of these actors on screen come from The Hateful Eight. The other major strength for me with this film is how, in many ways, it is not a Western in the traditional sense. While it is clearly set in the time and place and thus embraces that aesthetic, it is a prime example of what Tarantino does best in blending, mixing and melding genres to create something unique and enticing to watch. On the one hand, The Hateful Eight is a tense character drama between eight strangers stuck in a small space due to a blizzard. [SPOILERS] But about an hour in, the use of Jackson’s character as a quasi-detective and the death of Russell’s character due to poisoned coffee turns the film into a murder mystery. And by the end, it has become an all-out action set-piece confined to one room. All in all, The Hateful Eight is a Tarantino film so rich with character that it beckons to be revisited every now and again. Of all the Westerns I have seen, this is certainly one of the best. What are some Westerns that you enjoy? Do you prefer the old-school Westerns or the more modern entries in the genre? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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