Director Report Card: Sergio Leone (1966)

4. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo

After the box office success of “A Fistful of Dollars” and “For a Few Dollars More,” Sergio Leone earned his auteur license once and for all. Originally, Leone had no intention of expanding his two films into a trilogy. However, an offer form United Artists to put up a portion of a budget and an enthusiastic screenplay pitch had the director returning to the genre. Having already pushed the western into new directions with his previous features, Leone decided to make a truly epic western. The resulting film is considered by many to be one of the best westerns ever made, if not the best. “The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly” is a film that cast a long shadows. Its story, characters, music, title, and themes have all become iconic.

In the waning days of the American Civil War, three men battle over a hidden treasure of gold coins. Blondie, a fair-haired bounty hunter, and Tuco, a scoundrel, end the con they’ve been running suddenly. Meanwhile, Angel Eyes, a vicious killer-for-hire, gets the scent of a stolen cache of Confederacy gold. Tuco tracks down Blondie for revenge but, after nearly killing him, also finds out about the treasure. The three men form rough alliances, betray each other, march straight into a war zone, and gun down plenty of attackers, all on their quest for gold.

The latter half of Leone’s career as a director are made up of what can best be called cinematic novels. “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” is the first of these. The film, in its fullest form, has a run time of 179 minutes, just a minute shy of three whole hours. This lofty run time gives the movie plenty of time to explore its ideas. It’s a lived-in world, full of details and color. It’s enough time to pack in plenty of gunslinging, humor, and a war. There are moments devoted solely to expanding on its characters. Other moments are thrown in seemingly because they’re amusing. Such as Tuco, in his bathtub, being cornered by a one-armed man. The man is out for revenge, hinting at a history between the two characters. While the attacker is monologuing, Tuco fills him full of lead, reprimanding him for talking instead of shooting. The scene contributes nothing to the plot. However, it adds so much more to the world of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Though an epic watch, the film’s length never feels unearned.

The most iconic aspect of the film is Ennio Morricone’s score. The music is synonymous with the entire western genre. It has been used in other films, TV shows, kids cartoons, and even TV commercials. Any time a situation is meant to invoke a gunslinger stand-off, Morricone’s score is frequently heard. The main theme is unmistakable. The tribal, beating drums powers the music. The high-pitch yodeling, which Morricone called “coyote howls,” are distinctive and unforgettable. Both root the movie in the western’s past. Individual instruments are linked to the main characters: a flute for Blondie, an ocarina for Angel Eyes, and a men’s choir for Tuco. The strumming guitar, which backs up the heroic theme, suggest sweeping adventure. However, Morricone’s score makes time for softer, more quiet moments. The mournful cry of a military march reappears several time. “The Ecstasy of Gold,” with its trance-like piano melody, wraps the audience up in the characters’ mad lust for riches. That Morricone’s music would become so well known is appropriate. It’s a high-water mark for movie music that hasn’t often been surpassed.

In “For a Few Dollars More,” Leone devoted the movie’s opening minutes to establishing its prime characters. He continues that tendency with the trilogy’s conclusion. The first half-hour of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” is devoted to introducing the central trio. Each man gets an establishing moment. Tuco shoots three men down and burst through a window. Angel Eyes gets the information he needs and then murders the informant in cold blood. Blondie dissolves his partnership with Tuco, puckishly stranding the man in the desert. After each scene ends, the accompanying title flashes on the screen, designating the good, the bad, and the ugly in the audience’s eyes. Such a lengthy opening is another luxury afforded the film by its extra-long running time.

Eastwood’s Man with No Name being given the title of “The Good” almost seems like a cruel subversion of the expected rules of the western. Blondie, as Joe and Monco were in the previous films, is no western white hat. He’s introduced off-screen by three gun bangs. Three unsuspecting men, their backs turned, fall dead. It’s a testament to the down-beat world the film exist in that an anti-hero like Eastwood would be the Good. Yet Blondie is undoubtedly the best of the three men. Twice, he gives a dying man a cigarette. He gently pets a kitten resting in his during one scene. He usually only kills when threatened. His impish sense of humor and guile marks him as the good guy as much as his actions. Eastwood’s western hero continues to be defined as much by his cunning as his lightening fast trigger finger. Clint apparently had to be talked into coming back, with a much higher paycheck and a percentage of the gross. As such, his performance is not as razor-sharp as in the last two movies. Yet when slowly gets one over his enemies or successfully guns down an attacker, it’s still a reminder that Eastwood is the coolest man in the west.

Sergio Leone admitted that each of the three characters contained a part of his own personality. However, Eli Wallach’s Tuco was his favorite. Tuco is a bastard. He murders men throughout the movie, shooting each it best suits him. He’s a thief, stealing a self-assembled super-pistol from a gun store. He’s motivated solely by greed. Any alliances he makes are purely temporary. He’s a man only out for himself. He’s not honorable but he is likable. The pleasure he takes in turning the tables on his foes is infectiously fun. Wallach has an obscene charm in his smile. However, the character is frequently shit on by life, rightfully earning him the title of “The Ugly.” Maybe because Leone liked him so much, the film takes the time to probe Tuco’s back story. We meet his brother, a monk. We learn about his parents and his family, how he chose the life of a bandit for himself. Even when his feelings are hurt, Tuco puts on a smile. He knows the score and, if he keeps scheming, maybe someday he’ll get his due. The film would take Wallach from minor character actor to respected character actor. He would even headline a few spaghetti westerns all by himself.

That aforementioned opening is largely silent. The first line of dialogue isn’t spoken until ten minutes in. This occurs when Lee Van Cleef’s Angel Eyes interrogates a man for information about the gold. When the man gives him what he wants, and threatens to shoot him, Van Cleef guns the man down. He then shoots the man’s son and wife. Later, he shoots the man who hired him while he’s in bed. This establishes Angel Eyes as the most cruel and calculating of men. Van Cleef was so personable and likable in “For a Few Dollars More.” His character here dresses similarly but couldn’t be more different in personality. Van Cleef is a good choice for the role. His narrowing face and beady eyes ooze villainous intent. Angel Eyes has the least personality of the three men. He’s a straight-ahead mercenary, killing for money. The pleasure he gets out of the act is besides the point.

The epic scope of “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” is laudable enough. What makes it a truly likable film is the oddly friendly relationship between Blondie and Tuco. The two are partners in crime at first, running a unique con. However, the Good ditches the Ugly soon enough. This backfires when Tuco is pointing a pistol in his Blondie’s face. The sequence that follows, when Wallach drags Eastwood across the desert, is the film’s most darkly humorous moment. Blondie suffering under the hot desert sun isn’t funny. Tuco splashing his feet in his water or shooting holes in his canteen is. The antagonistic but oddly warm relationship is one of my favorite aspects of the film. When Tuco tries to get the information out of Blondie, the other man diffuses the situation carefully. As the two attach bombs to the legs of a bridge, they discuss the treasure further, Tuco’s vulnerability shining through while Blondie maintains his cool. Even up to the end, when Wallach has his head in a noose, Clint takes the time to perform a friendly gesture. But not too friendly.

With his fifth film, Leone’s directorial style is fully formed. One of the first images in the film is a close-up on a grizzled, hardened man’s face. It’s a motif the director returns throughout the movie. Leone contrasts the intimate landscape of a man’s face with the wider landscape of the countryside. The harsh deserts and the green vallies are shot with as wide a lens as possible. The editing is tighter and more clever then before. The camera cuts between the barrel of a gun and the barrel of a cannon. When Tuco finally reaches the cemetery, the camera spins around him, illustrating his excitement and matching the stepping excitement of Morricone’s music. Leone’s direction knows when to be intimate, when to be epic, and when to be coy. Quentin Tarantino has called “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” the best directed film ever made. Well, who’s to say? But the film certainly looks amazing.

“The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” isn’t just a western. It’s also a war film. The Civil War rages in the background at the very beginning. There are references to Yankee and Confederate forces near the start. As the characters come closer to their goal, the war comes into sharper focus. As a gun fight rages in a ghost town, cannon balls explodes around the men. By the end, the guys are right in the middle of a battlefield. At first, the men are entirely ambivalent to the horrors of war. Tuco steals uniforms off of dead men’s back. (The way that plot ends up, with a dust storm and an assumed identity, is hilarious.) Occasionally, even men as hardened as these are moved by what’s happening around them. Upon entering a church full of injured men, Tuco is stunned into silence. Upon seeing the carnage of the war zone, Blondie mutters about the loss of life. When finding two dying men, the Man with No Name takes time to respect their passing, giving one a swig of liquor and the other a cigarette. Even violent gunslingers find the gratuitous loss of life shameful.

The trio are motivated mostly by greed. Tuco and Angel Eyes are after the gold, above all else. Even Blondie, by far the most ethical of the men, is pursuing the treasure for his own gain. Through this, the theme of greed emerges. Leone drawls a none-too-subtle parallel between the greed of the men and the war effort around them. The trio selfishly search for gold. The armies battle over land. Both are shown on about the same level. There are differently manifestations of the same desire. The film because an anti-war movie of sorts, playing up the absurdity of all combat.

You know what Sergio Leone seems to like? A good torture sequence! For the third time in a row, he finds some excuse for a main character to be brutally beaten by the bad guys. In “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” he ups the ante. Tuco is beaten black and blue, his teeth punched out, his eyes gouged, his hands broken. Most of the violence in the film is relatively bloodless. Men are shot and tumble over dead without any visible blood. Yet Tuco’s beating is visceral and intensely violent. Perhaps giving the sequence a stronger edge is the music played over. Angel Eyes covers up the brutality of his action by having a band play and sing. The contrast actually makes the violence even more horrifying.

Leone recognizes how awful violence can be. He’s also not above playing action and mayhem for thrills. There’s plenty of flashing pistols and flying bullets in the movie. In “For a Few Dollars More,” the heroes worked their way through a small town of goons. The third film in the trilogy tops that sequence. Left alone in a ghost town, torn apart and ravaged by the war, Blondie and Tuco fend off Angel Eyes’ gang. There’s plenty of guys shot off railings, tumbling down to their deaths. Eastwood corner shooters, blasting them away. He alerts them with a sharp whistle, getting the drop on them. Tuco’s methods are more direct, gunning down those that get in his way. Cutting edge for the time and still riveting today, the sequence shows Leone elevating the western gun fight into some more stylized and exciting.

Surprisingly, a shot-out that good is only the appetizer to the climax’s main course. On paper, it’s a simple sequence. The trio meet again in the graveyard. The three stand around a stone circle, bringing “For a Few Dollars More” to mind again. Morricone’s music builds. The camera sharply cuts between their three faces. The audience is left wondering: Who will shoot first? Who will turn on the other? The drawn-out action builds tension while also putting the viewer in the characters’ head. This is a masterwork lesson on how to end your movie. Ultimately, Tuco is revealed to be not so bad anyway. As the extended denouncement proves, the film ends with the Good triumphing over the Bad and the Ugly still being ugly.

“The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” lives up to its reputation. As a western, the film morphs the genre in new and exciting directions. As an action film, it’s never less then fully riveting. As an exercise in style, it still impresses, Leone’s direction often being imitated but never topped. The score is incredible, the actors perfectly cast, and the film’s impact is still felt. Is it the greatest western ever made? You never known for sure. It’s certainly a really, really good movie. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Sergio Leone (1965)

3. For A Few Dollars More
Per qualche dollaro in più

“A Fistful of Dollars” was an immediate success, at home in Italy and internationally. Sergio Leone and his producer wanted to get to work on a follow-up as soon as possible. Clint Eastwood was uncertain at first but, after seeing an undubbed print of “Fistful,” enthusiastically agreed to return. Debate rages to this day about whether or not “For a Few Dollars More” is a direct sequel or merely a thematic follow-up. When released in America, United Artist sold all three films as being about the Man with No Name, connecting them as a series. Sergio Leone always insisted that there was no continuity between the films, each meant to be singular stories. Eastwood is clearly playing the same character. The debates don’t affect the film any. “For a Few Dollars More” is not only a worthy follow-up to “A Fistful of Dollars,” it may actually be the better.

The Wild West is being terrorized by El Indigo, the most dangerous outlaw around, and his gang of miscreants, robbers, and murderers. The crooks plan to rob the bank of El Paso next, making off with a vault full of half a million dollars. On his tail are two separate bounty killers. The first is the poncho clad Manco, a lightening-fast gunslinger who doesn’t say much. The second is Douglas Mortimer, a black-clad former colonel who shoots with deadly accuracy and a bandoleer of high-tech guns. The two hunters meet on the trail of Indigo, butting heads at first. Eventually, they form an alliance to take down the villain, who Mortimer has a personal connection to.

From its opening minutes, “For a Few Dollars More” establishes itself as having a wider lens then Leone’s last film. A lone horseman crosses a prairie. The angle is wide and distant, the man seeming tiny in the field. A shot rings out through the area, the assassin unseen, the man falling dead from his perch. With that, the titles float on screen, designed to look like puffs of smoke, each pierced by a single bullet hole. The opening declares that this is a movie of bad men clipped down with deadly accuracy.

Powering the opening, and the whole film, is Ennio Morricone’s incomparable score. The whimsical whistle connects it with the first film’s theme, while also signaling its wild west setting. The flicking of the jew harp provides movement. The soft drum implies the beats of horse hooves and, later, the pumping of a locomotive. The guttural cries of men are primal and fierce while the strumming guitar builds to a sweeping, powerful, choir theme, where each of the elements meet again. There’s no doubt that it’s a ridiculously great, adventurous score that gets the audience excited.

Like the other Leone westerns Morricone would score, each of the main characters receive a musical motif of their own. Leone also begins the film by introducing each main character in a lengthy, singular scene. Mortimer stops a train and takes out a target. Manco walks through a thunderstorm, interrupts a poker game, and claims his own bounty. El Indigo, meanwhile, displays his stopwatch, the object that informs and defines his personality. The trio of leads, each getting a first scene to themselves, is something Leone would return to. As in films past and present, Leone also has his heroes undergo a Christ-like torture, beaten and brutalized by the villains. The movie concludes with the good guy and the bad guy having a duel in a stone circle, settling their personal grudge. That Leone would return to these story elements is appropriate, as they are classic western moments his films helped defined.

Despite Clint Eastwood being the marquee name, Mortimer is introduced first. The character is played with a stoic focus by Lee Van Cleef, already a veteran of westerns himself. He is steely and calculated, to the point of being relaxed. In the first scene, a mark shoots wildly at him. Mortimer, meanwhile, casually, calmly, loads his gun, taking the guy out with one clear, clean shot. The bounty hunter is presented almost like the James Bond of gunslingers. He is outfitted with the highest-tech weapons of the day, each contained in a unfolding brown leather satchel on his horse. Van Cleef also shows a quiet humor, an eyebrow cocked and a pipe in his mouth. He’s a different sort of badass then Clint Eastwood and a valuable addition to the film.

Which isn’t to say Eastwood still isn’t the king of cool. His own introduction has him casually strolling through a thunderstorm, unaffected by the rain. He casually marches up to the guy he’s going to kill and tells him so. He casually shoots underarm at an attacker. Eastwood’s Man with No Name maintains his ballsy toughness, smooth execution, and take-no-shit attitude. For example, he’s not above shooting an unarmed man. His soft spot for kids are maintained too, though even that has a limit. Like before, his scheming and planning can only take him so far and he eventually finds himself over his head. Eastwood inhabits the part so naturally that it’s no wonder he would define the western hero archetype. His performance is a deliberate, fascinating variation on a theme.

Probably the biggest pleasure of “For a Few Dollars More” is the inevitable conflict the film sends the two characters on. As bounty hunters, they are rivals. The fight scene between the two, coming about a half-hour in, is one of my favorite scenes in the film. They play an extended game of keep-away with bullets and hats. Eastwood shoots Van Cleef’s hat several times. Keeping with their established personalities, Van Cleef takes Eastwood’s off with a single shot. However, the two are only rivals for so long. Soon, they meet and formulate a plan. In most any other western, this would be a dull scene of exposition, setting up a plot that will obviously go wrong. However, watching Eastwood and Van Cleef bounce off each other is an absolute joy, the two forming a funny back-and-forth.

In “A Fistful of Dollars,” the villains were bad men, motivated by greed and murdering with glee. El Indigo is also played by Gian Maria Volonte, like the first’s Ramon. Volonte is just as vicious here. Indigo also takes pleasure in dispatching his foes, dangling their inescapable fates in their faces with the chiming stopwatch. However, that stopwatch is a key to Indigo’s past. He’s a more complex villain, motivated as much by regret as material gain. Throughout the film, we see glimpses of his past, a device Leone would also return to in future works. What he did was equally unforgivable but it roots his personality in a human sadness. The best bit of acting from Volonte comes when he stares into space, consumed by memories, the sad music box playing him to sleep. He is frightening when gunning down victims and plotting bank robberies. Yet the details of his past make him a more captivating adversary.

“For a Few Dollars More” also shows Sergio Leone’s directorial style expanding. The wide vistas that are so associated with him are on display here. The Spanish desert continues to make a visually fascinating location. No wonder Leone would want to film as much of it as possible at once. Gunslingers stand in the distance, firing off shots, their bullets rippling in the sand and dirt. He shoots the faces of hard, bad men with the same sort of gravitas he gives to the landscapes. He allows tension to build during the duels, placing as much importance on setting and location as he does to story or characters. This technique creates a surprising amount of suspense, making the viewer wonder about the outcome of the gunfight, even though the audience can assume the good guys will prevail. Leone’s bag of filmmaking tricks elevates the genre to a masterful art form.

“For a Few Dollars More” mostly tells a very different story from its predecessor. It’s not an unofficial remake of any Kurosawa film that I know of. However, the sequel does have one thing in common. In both stories, Eastwood’s Man with No Name must go undercover with the bad guys. This leads to the middle section of the story where it suddenly becomes a heist film. Prison bars are torn from walls. The plot device involving the vault, hidden inside a wooden box, is clever. Even more clever is the way the wood is shot away by the bandits. Because this is about both of them, Van Cleef worms his way into the gang too, in another surprisingly intense sequence. However, Leone spends more time on the duo’s discovery, leading to double-crossing, scheming, and changing alliances. These moments are somewhat routine and the only time “For a Few Dollars More” drags.

It doesn’t drag too much though. This is an action film that moves. From the first scene, the shoot-outs are lightening fast, muzzle flashes striking and bodies falling to the floor. The quick cut editing emphasizes the ferocity of the action. The early scenes of Eastwood mowing down rows of goons with super speed and accuracy are exciting as hell. However, the movie is buildings towards the thunderous climax. Manco and Mortimer have to face off against an entire town full of banditos. They march through the streets, gunning down their attackers. Leone’s camera films the streets between buildings tightly, creating an effective tunnel. Eastwood spins around in a chair, blasting goons through the window. Van Cleef is more direct, barging in and letting his rifle blaze. The stand-off between Mortimer and Indigo is breathtakingly exciting. All the film’s best elements come together. Leone’s lyrical direction, Morricone’s gorgeous score, and the intense performances combine to make a fantastic conclusion.

And, hey, if nothing else, the movie has got Klaus Kinski as a hunchback too! “For a Few Dollars More” is more direct and action-packed then the first part of the trilogy. It has more to offer with a more exciting, better constructed screenplay. The action is fantastic. The score is incredible. The actors are men at the top of their field, doing what they do best. It’s the rare sequel that’s superior to the original. That’s saying a lot, since “A Fistful of Dollars” was really good too. Most of all, the movie shows Sergio Leone evolving into a genre genius, a man who could turn a simple western into a exciting masterwork of filmmaking. [Grade: A-]

Director Report Card: Sergio Leone (1964)

2. A Fistful of Dollars
Per un pugno di dollari

Spaghetti westerns existed before “A Fistful of Dollars.” However, Sergio Leone’s film re-popularized the western in Italy and around the world, putting a distinctly European stamp on that most American of genres. The film was a massive success in its home country, creating a tidal wave of interest that would make the spaghetti western the primary cinematic export of Italy for the next decade. The film would turn Clint Eastwood into an icon, a new sort of cowboy hero for a new sort of cowboy movie. Though critics dismissed it at the time, eventually the film would be recognized as the achievement it is, launching its director, star, and composer to the heights of respectability.

A stranger rides into town. The Mexican border town of San Miguel is torn apart by two rival gangs. On one side are the Rojos, a family of Mexican banditos who massacres soldiers for their gold. On the other side are the Baxters, led by the town sheriff, who is as dirty as the crooks. Seeing the town decimated by this rivalry, the stranger decides to play both gangs against each other. With his fast gun hand and keen intelligence, he sets about doing just that. However, as he becomes more invested in the innocent townfolks, the Rojos discovers the Man with No Name’s treachery.

By 1964, the traditional western had played itself out. With its white-hat/black-hat values, the genre was seen as out of date and out of touch. Leone wanted to reinvent the western as something edgier and hipper. In hopes of making something cool, the director looked towards who was the king of cool in the early sixties. The credits, with their bold colors, silhouetted shapes, and swinging music, recalls the James Bond series. The attempt is successful as, from the opening credits, it’s evident that “Fistful of Dollars” is a different breed of western. The images of galloping horses, kicked up dust, and shot bad guys diving towards the camera are bold statement to open the film.

And then there’s that Morricone score. Ennio Morricone’s music is so definitively tied with the spaghetti western that it’s hard to separate the two. The mournful, bugle-like trumpets links the music to the past, recognizing the western’s historical roots. The casual, catchy whistle suggests a protagonists that doesn’t worry about the bad guys around and is on-top of things. The insertion of jangly guitars contributes a rougher edge. The final ingredient are the vocals, barely understandable male voices barking sounds. The gruff male choir adds a final layer of macho strength. (When listening to it, I personally hear “We can fight!” but I suspect someone else might hear something else.) The whole thing builds to a crescendo of sweeping adventure that pulls the audience in. It’s incredible.

As the spaghetti western would grow, it would become more common for the films to feature a certain surreal element. It’s something that distinguishes the European westerns from their American counterparts and Eastwood would carry it with him when he started making his own. “A Fistful of Dollars” is set in a practical ghost town. As Clint rides into town, the streets are empty. The buildings are rickety facades standing among miles of desolate desert. The Spanish desert is a different sort of setting then the California back lots previous westerns were filmed on. The funeral bell tones ominously. As the stranger rides down the main street, a dead body on a horse rides pass him. From the earlier scenes, “A Fistful of Dollars” has established a slightly dreamy, off-kilter tone. San Miguel continues to be such a strange place, a hostile town from hell that welcomes no one and functions on violence. It’s an obviously artificial environment, one that further establishes the movie as a comment on the rules of the western.

Another creative decision Leone made in direct response to classic western archetypes is how the movie’s hero acted. Clint Eastwood’s Joe, who became the Man with No Name when the film was belatedly brought to America, is the definitive spaghetti western hero. He’s not the typical white hat western goodie. He tricks people, spending the whole movie playing two sides against each other. He’s motivated mostly by getting paid, making frequent references to the money he’s owed. He goes into a room full of people and shoots everyone unprovoked. When a wounded man tries to get up and run, he shoots him again. He’s a morally ambiguous anti-hero, rougher then the western heroes of years past. This is the mold most every other spaghetti western would follow. The Man with No Name would beget Django, Sabata, Sartana, and countless others. (The character’s actions were so unacceptable in America at the time that, when the movie premiered on TV, a hastily shot prologue was inserted, justifying the stranger’s actions as sanctioned by the law.)

Clint Eastwood was not the filmmaker’s first choice for the lead role. He wasn’t even the tenth. At the time, Eastwood was mostly a television actor, best known for his sidekick role on “Rawhide.” With this role, he saw an oppretunity to break away from his image as a clean-cut leading man. Eastwood helped create the Man with No Name’s look. The grimy stubble, pulled down hat, blunt cigars, and gun-concealing poncho were all Clint’s idea. More then the iconic look, Eastwood’s performance established the character’s style. In the opening minutes, his horse is shot at. In retaliation, he finds the men responsible and blows them away with ease. Before that, he makes subtly threatening, pretty funny banter at the guys. He tells the coffin maker to prepare three caskets and then corrects him to four on the way back. This grants Clint a rare, hard-to-obtain quality: Coolness. And Clint is the king of cool in this movie. He’s smooth, cool, intelligent, and lets his action speak for him.

Despite breaking many of the rules about what a western hero is supposed to do, Eastwood’s Joe is still a good person. As his campaign against both gangs continues, he realizes there are innocents caught in the middle. The only friend Eastwood makes in the film is Silvanito, the inn keeper. Joe is introduced to the film’s female lead when he punches her in the face. Marisol is an innocent mother, her child spending most of the movie crying for her or his father. Both are victims of the crooked gangs. After getting the shit beaten out of him, Joe gets out of town. He could have stayed gone too. But his need to protect the innocents takes him back into town, revealing his secret, compassionate heart. He tells the woman, who he has seemingly no romantic connection to, to high-tail it out of there but has to actively rescue Silvanito. Feel free to read into that all you want.

As an action movie, “A Fistful of Dollars” is far more exciting and dynamic then previous examples of the genre. Like many gunfighters before him, the Man with No Name is the fastest gun in the west. The film revels in his speed, the goons seemingly falling dead to the ground before he even whips his gun out. When barging into a house of bad guys, he viciously guns down the entire lot, spending a stray cat running to safety. Leone imbues his action scenes with a sense of real danger, making them purely exciting for the audience.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is also far more violent then the many westerns that came before. The bad guys gun down a whole fleet of soldiers with a gatling gun. Clint runs a guy through with a machete. After his treachery is made clear, the Rojos beat Joe to a bloody pulp. It’s an extended scene of torture, a story motif Leone would return to repeatedly as well. Joe gets out of this jam by crushing two goons with a comically oversized barrel, the camera lingering on their dead bodies. As the story grows increasingly grim, the camera focuses on the burning buildings and dead bodies. When the stranger rains vengeance down on the villains, they cough up blood and expire in agony. Though relatively tame by modern standards, “A Fistful of Dollars” was like an explosion back in 1964, showing a level of blood and violence unseen in westerns before.

As his career continued, Sergio Leone’s directorial style would continue to evolve. It’s still in its infancy here. Yet Leone’s style gives “A Fistful of Dollars” an energetic feel. His lens is frequently wide. A simple shot of Eastwood exiting the inn is shot with a fluid turn of the camera and takes full advantage of the wide-screen frame. As Joe marches up to meet the bad guy, the focus is on his feet as he steps ahead, looking like a giant advancing over a tiny town. Here, we get the first example of the director’s trademark close-ups on the hard, grizzled faces of his rough and tumble leading men. The Rojos stare in confusion and shock at Joe’s skills. Clint glares from under his hat, his intentions clear from his eyes. Leone’s vibrant style is most noticeable during the action scenes. He attaches the camera to the muzzle of a gatling gun as it fires. In intersecting long shots and close-ups, we see the shots fired and their bloody impact. This is action movie poetry, a dynamism that powers the entire film.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is captivating throughout. In its final minutes though, it builds towards something immensely satisfying and powerful. As in many westerns before and after, the hero marches into town, facing off with the bad guy. However, proving once again that his cleverness is his strongest weapon, Joe outsmarts the hoods. (This moment is so iconic and excellent that you overlook that Ramon easily could have shot him in the head.) The metal plate under the poncho has been referenced and parodied many times. More importantly, it builds on small plot details laid down earlier. During its climax is when “A Fistful of Dollars” graduates from merely good to really friggin’ good.

Though Eastwood is the star of the show, there’s a strong supporting cast backing him up. He has an immediate rapport with Jose Calvo as Silvanito, the inn keeper. Silvanito’s slightly sarcastic but somewhat nervous attitude contrasts nicely with the stranger’s cocksure confidence. Joseph Egger is also memorable as the coffin maker, who plays an increasingly important role as the story goes on. Mostly, it’s the colorful Rojo gang that the audience remembers. Gian Maria Volonte, who would returned throughout the Dollars trilogy, drips with villainous glee as the sadistic Ramon. Antonio Prieto is more serious and calculating as Don Miguel, the leader of the gang. Wolfgang Lukschy as Sheriff Baxter makes it clear very quickly that the sheriff is no better then the thugs he’s fighting. The only cast member truly underserved by the film is Marianne Koch as Marisol. Though Koch is beautiful, the character is an indistinct Madonna archetype, representing the purity of the townsfolk that the hero must protect.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is so good that you even forgive it for being an unofficial adaptation of “Yojimbo.” Akira Kurosawa even liked the movie. So, hey, if you’re going to steal, steal from the best. Though slightly eclipsed by its even more famous sequels, its own iconic status, and hundreds of further rip-offs, “A Fistful of Dollars” more then stands on its own as an excellent yarn, an exciting genre experiment that remains as effective today as it was back in the sixties. [Grade: A-]