Director Report Card: Sam Raimi (1995)

6. The Quick and the Dead

“Army of Darkness” didn't exactly set the box office on fire but Sam Raimi remained a filmmaker many people wanted to work with. In the aftermath of “Basic Instinct,” Sharon Stone was suddenly a huge star. Sony would purchased Simon Moore's spec script, “The Quick and the Dead,” specifically to develop it as a project for Stone. Signing on to both star and produce, Stone would handpick Raimi as the director. (Apparently she was a fan of “Army of Darkness” and his other films, an unexpected revelation.) Considering his love of various retro genres, it's unsurprising to learn that Sam Raimi was a fan of westerns. Though essentially working as a hired gun – pun fully intended – Raimi would manage to make “The Quick and the Dead” his own.

The Western frontier town of Redemption is ruled with an iron fist by Sheriff Herod, a former outlaw. The town is currently holding a quick-draw competition, attracting gunslingers from all around the country. Among them is a mysterious Lady, wandering into town seemingly to fulfill a personal vendetta against Herod. She meets other shooters, like the the Kid, who is young and eager to prove his skill, and Cort, a pacifistic priest slowly drawn back into the violence. As the competition goes on, Herod becomes more ruthless, insisting the matches become battles to the death.

“The Quick and the Dead's” influences could not be more obvious. The film is an extended love letter to the spaghetti western and Sergio Leone's films in particular. That general premise, of a nameless gunfighter wandering into a frontier town and resolving the problems there, is maintained. The way Lady's grudge against Herod is slowly explained through flashbacks, which involve an extended lynching, brings “Once Upon a Time in the West” to mind. With its morally ambiguous characters and story of vengeance, it's obvious the Italian westerns of the sixties inspired the film, more so than the traditional American westerns. This act of homage is completed with Alan Silvestri's score, a fantastic Ennio Morricone riff full of calling trumpets and strumming guitars.

The spaghetti western brings with it a certain visual language, that “The Quick and the Dead” is happy to communicate with. Dante Spinotti's cinematography is full of warm Old West colors, with many wide and immersive shots of the flat, rolling desert. The director certainly employs some of the close-ups, zooms, whip pans, and expressive wide shots that Leone was famous for. Yet Raimi brings his own frenetic style to the table. A simple scene of someone being thrown a glass of water is electrified by Raimi's use of point-of-view shots. A number of gun fights are summarized through a thrilling montage, bullets and pistols falling across the scene as we see the fights play out. The camera is rarely still for long in “The Quick and the Dead,” Raimi determined to stay true to the first part of the film's title.

Unsurprisingly, the gun fights are vividly brought to life. As you'd expect, the director of “Evil Dead” certainly adds a little more flair and gore to the shoot-outs. The squibs are a little juicier in this flick than you'd expect from a typical western. Bloody gashes are blown in hands. A disproportionately large hole is blasted through someone's head. Some of the most memorable moments are saved for the big finale, where a bullet hole in seen in someone's shadow. Or a gunshot to the eyes tosses an opponent head-over-heels. The film even manages to toss in some massive explosions, by setting up a barrel of TNT early on in a rather amusingly ham-fisted way. In-between Raimi's stylistic approach and the bloody special effects, “The Quick and the Dead” certainly proves an exciting action film.

Made during Sharon Stone's brief stay atop the A-list, “The Quick and the Dead” was an attempt to show the actress was more than a seductive sexpot. At the time, some reviewers were quite harsh towards her performance. In retrospect, it's quite obvious what Stone is doing. Though the character's name is eventually revealed as Ellen, she's just called Lady throughout most of the film. She doesn't speak as much and instead glares at her opponents, gruffly and bluntly barking answers to them. This is, of course, not dissimilar to Clint Eastwood's performances as the Man with No Name. Stone does a surprisingly good job of filling the role of a stoic western gunslinger, being convincingly tough, conveying the mystery of the character, but hinting at the anger she feels underneath those tense stares.

Casting a woman as the lead in an action-packed western, a genre traditionally dominated by men, was a bold move and ahead of the curve in some ways. In other ways, “The Quick and the Dead” is painfully of its time. Despite spending most of the movie as a bad-ass in a cowboy hat and chaps, there's still a gratuitous sequence where Stone is dressed in a glamorous gown. (Raimi and his team at least had the sense to cut a steamy sex scene between Stone and Crowe, which added nothing to the story.) Among the gun fighters is a lecherous, ugly man who repeatedly hits on a young girl, eventually doing something awful to her off-screen. This results in a sudden shoot-out, Stone quickly shooting the pervert to death. It's a ham-fisted moment in questionable taste. Does child molestation really have a place in a colorful, comic book-y western? It feels a lot like the kind of faux-empowered “girl power” that was commonplace in the nineties and has aged poorly.

Starring opposite Stone is Gene Hackman as Herod. It's the second western villain role Hackman would play in the nineties, after a similar role in 1992's “Unforgiven.” As in that film, Hackman plays a rotten man who will do anything to hold onto the power he already has. The big difference is that “Unforgiven” was a gritty, grounded deconstruction while “The Quick and the Dead” is a colorful exaggerated homage. Hackman adjusts his performance accordingly.  He plays Herod as a villain who enjoys his own villainy, grinning with evil intent and enjoying tormenting those that earn his scorn. Watching Hackman ham it up is great fun.

Hackman's character also displays another homage to the western's past. A number of spaghetti westerns are notable for injecting politics into the western genre. “The Quick and the Dead” continues this trend. Herod rules over the town of Redemption with an iron fist. His whims and violent impulses directs the lives of the innocent people living there. He lives in an opulent home, wearing fine clothes and eating nice meals. The other citizens are so poor that, any time a gunfighter is shot dead, they strip any valuables they can find off the still warm corpses. This idea is further developed in a subplot where a professional shootist is hired by the townsfolk to kill Herod. This goes poorly, resulting in a monologue where Herod chastises the people who live under him. It's a clear depiction of class divides and add some much appreciated layers tot he film.

Supporting Stone and Hackman are a pair of up-and-coming leading men. Russell Crowe was early in his film career, cast at Stone's insistence. While we associate Crowe with blustery, full-throated performances, his role here as Cort is more mellow and introspective. As a former outlaw-turned-priest who then turns back into a gunfighter by the end, Crowe does a nice job displaying the challenges the character faces. Leo DiCaprio, also pretty early into his film career and a few years from becoming the definitive teen hot throb of his day, plays the Kid. DiCaprio is enthusiastic, nicely balancing the performative cockiness the character uses to cover the insecurity he feels over not being accepted by his father.

The supporting cast, meanwhile, is filled with beloved character actors who are allowed to do their thing. Lance Henriksen is at his most bombastic as a trick shooter who loves to brag and show off, before his act is bluntly dismissed by the villain. Lance is really allowed to cut loose, clearly enjoying the operatic opportunity. Tobin Bell, long before his “Saw” days, appears early as one of the sleazier jerks to vex Stone. Roberts Blossom plays nicely to type as the kindly old doctor who holds the secret to Lady's past. Keith David has a brief but entertaining role as the hired gun, bringing the proper Keith David amounts of grace and style to a small part. Pat Hingle appears as the lonesome barkeeper, forced to do awful things at Herod's insistence, while Kevin Conway is amusingly hammy as a henchman. (That's a Commissioner Gordon and a Batman in the cast together, for those keeping track.) Gary Sinise even shows up for a brief cameo. It's a loaded cast, which is probably why Bruce Campbell's part ended up getting cut though he's still listed in the credits.

Aside from Raimi's always-inventive visual design, what I might admire the most about “The Quick and the Dead” is its speedy pace and straight-ahead story construction. It's a movie about a gun fighting tournament that wastes little time getting to the gun fights. Since most of the characters are archetypes, they are quickly set-up, leaving more room for the action. Just like in many a classic western, once the bad guy has been disposed and the hero marches back out of town, the movie ends. Calling “The Quick and the Dead” a series of gun fights would not be inaccurate. Nor is it a complaint, as there's something to be said for a movie giving the audience what they want and then getting the hell out.

Like most of Sharon Stone's post-”Basic Instinct” vehicles – or most of the westerns released after “Dances with Wolves” and “Unforgiven,” for that matter – “The Quick and the Dead” attracted little attention in theaters. The reviews were extremely mixed at the time, the film being more-or-less dismissed as a failure. In the years since, some have reassessed the movie, realizing Raimi brought a great deal of energy to the script, that the cast is full of entertaining performances, and that the movie succeeds at most of its goals. Perhaps a trifle, “The Quick and the Dead” is nevertheless an amusingly over-the-top riff on western ideas. [Grade: B]

Recent Watches: My Name is Nobody (1974)

From 1964 until sometimes in the mid-seventies, the spaghetti western dominated Italian cinema. During that decade, the genre went through some interesting mutations. As the cinematic trend started to peter out, the westerns became more farcical. The movie that started this trend was “They Call Me Trinity,” a goofy take on the western starring Terence Hill. That movie would make Hill an immediate star and he would headline plenty of similar films, many of them buddy flicks with Bud Spencer. Just as Sergio Leone put his stamp on the Zapata western subgenre, he also had to have his say about the comedy-western. “My Name is Nobody,” which paired Hill with Leone’s “Once Upon in the West” star Henry Fonda, was not truly made by the Italian master. He came up with the concept and contributed some uncredited direction. Yet the movie, in its own silly way, is a reaction to the director’s own film, the ones that launched the genre in the first place.

Jack Beauregard is a legend of the Wild West, a gun fighter that has made himself a name with his lightening-fast trigger finger. His reputation precedes him and many newcomers want to test themselves against the master. While seeking the man responsible for his friend’s death, Beauregard comes upon an eccentric gunslinger of equal quickness that goes by Nobody. Slowly, Beauregard and Nobody take a liking to each other. The two’s adventure puts them in the path of the Wild Bunch, a hundred strong league of riders coming their way.

One of the main joys of "My Name is Nobody" is the contrasting personae of Henry Fonda and Terence Hill. Fonda is an iconic, classical hero of the western genre. He carries that weight to the role of Beauregard, a similarly legendary figure. He’s serious but not grim, good-hearted though silent and strong. Hill, meanwhile, wears a goofy grin throughout the entire film. He is continuously good-natured, always laid-back and casual. He thinks nothing of danger and treats the entire idea of shoot-outs as a game. Fonda’s serious demeanor and Hill’s goofball charm provide plenty of entertainment. Fonda is antagonistic towards Nobody at first, shooting holes in his hat. Yet Hill always has complete respect for Beauregard, admiring the man. The contrast in attitudes is the most entertaining aspect of “My Name is Nobody.”

Well, one of the most entertaining aspects of “My Name is Nobody.” The film is a full-blown farce. Its comedy is loud, fast-paced, and very silly. An early scene has Hill casually disposing of a ticking bomb. When entering a town that’s having a carnival, he’s confronted by a man on stilts. After shooting the stilts apart, the man turns out to be a squeaky-voiced midget. Nobody tends to defend himself with sped-up slapstick comedy. He slaps attackers away, grabbing their pistols out of their holsters. Later on, a rotating mannequin in the middle of the town is similarly used to fend off some baddies. The film speeds up during these moments, turning “My Name is Nobody” into a live action cartoon. Hill’s toothy grin keeps it silly and fun. His way with absurd dialogue and rambling, nonsensical metaphors are also worth a laugh or two.

Being so focused on humor, “My Name is Nobody” does not feature a lot of fancy shoot-outs. The movie makes the action that it has count though. A stand-off between Beauregard and Nobody explodes into the town, the two gunning down or defeating a horde of attackers. The final act of the film features a huge set-piece. Beauregard faces off against the Wild Bunch, a hundred riders crossing the desert. With his pin-point accurate firing, he explodes bombs on the rider’s horses, tossing the bad guys to their deaths. It’s an extended, exciting sequence that goes on nicely. It would come off as too much in a straight-laced western but in a comedy like this, the over-the-top action adds pleasantly to the material.

Tonino Valerii actually directed the film but Sergio Leone’s influence is obvious. There’s a few lingering close-up on actor’s face or wide-screen shots of men riding the desert. Ennio Morricone’s score quotes his music from “Once Upon a Time in the West” and “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” Morricone’s main score is clownish, silly, but obviously his work. However, the main influence Leone had on the film is its themes. Despite the light-hearted material, “My Name is Nobody” still concerns the end of the west. Fonda’s Beauregard is a symbol of the old west, the time of shoot-outs and white hat heroes. Hill’s Nobody represents the future, a whimsical hero for a changing world. In the final minutes, the two create a scheme to allow Fonda to retire gracefully. His voice-over explicitly high-lights the movie’s theme, of the west evolving into a bigger, crowded, safer place. (In addition to providing a relatively valid explanation for one of Nobody's earlier, rambling anecdotes.) For bonus points, the movie references Sam Peckinpah, both by name and by calling the villains the Wild Bunch.

“My Name is Nobody” was another hit for rising star Terence Hill. The movie was popular enough to even receive a sort-of sequel, called “A Genius, Two Friends and an Idiot.” Leone did some uncredited work on that one too. The two Nobody films would be the last westerns Sergio worked on, near the end of the genre’s life-span. A sunny, easy-to-watch comedy that leaves the viewer with a smile, “My Name is Nobody” is an easy recommendation for viewers looking for a different type of spaghetti westerns. [7/10]

Director Report Card: Sergio Leone (1971)

6. Duck, You Sucker!
Giù la testa / A Fistful of Dynamite

Ever since the conclusion of the Dollars Trilogy, Sergio Leone had been working on his dream project, an adaptation of “The Hoods” by Harry Grey. Other projects kept him busy though. After “Once Upon a Time in the West,” Leone was presented with a script about revolution in turn-of-the-century Mexico. He liked it, wanted to see it made, but didn’t want to direct it. Peter Bogdanovich, Sam Peckinpah, and Leone’s assistant Giancarlo Santi were all considered but each realized that Leone just wanted to make the movie himself. The resulting film, “Duck, You Sucker!,” is the director’s most overlooked. Though a decent hit in Europe, in America the film was badly marketed, released under the non-representative title “A Fistful of Dynamite,” and basically forgotten for decades. After a series of quality home video releases, the film is finally getting its dues as one of Leone’s most evocative and powerful works.

In 1913, Mexico is a country besieged by political unrest, with a tyrannical government repressing a burgeoning revolution. Juan and his family of bandits have no need for revolution. His only need for the rich is when he steals from them. Chance circumstances has him meeting John Mallory, a former member of the Irish Republican Army and an explosive experts. Juan drafts Mallory in his quest to rob a near-by bank. A series of unexpected events has Juan and John working with the revolution, fighting for the people and fighting to survive.

Through his career, Sergio Leone’s films became increasingly political. The first two films in the Dollars Trilogy were totally apolitical before “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” introduced an anti-war element. “Once Upon a Time in the West,” meanwhile, dealt with the balance of power and money that makes things happen. “Duck, You Sucker!” is his most political movie yet. It allies itself with the peasants. An early scene has Juan brought onto a stagecoach full of rich folks. He’s presented like a circus freak. The passenger berate the poor as disgusting, impure, dumb, and like animals, with some old fashion racism thrown in too. The camera focuses on their mouths as they shovel more food in, their opinions filling the air like an ugly cacophony. The film makes it clear that the poor benefit neither from tyranny nor from war. In a scene that is both touching and funny, Juan says the people who benefit from revolution aren’t the ones that fight and end up dead.

The film declares its political alliance from its opening minute with a quote from Mao Tse-tung about how “the revolution is an act of violence.” “Duck, You Sucker!” was made in reaction to the growing population of Zapata Westerns. A late period variation on the spaghetti westerns, the Zapata western had heavy political slants that they engage in fully. “Run, Man, Run!” and its sequels are probably the best known example of this type of film. During the political upheaval in Europe during the late sixties and seventies, the films became popular. Leone, however, was not impressed with the way these movies glorified revolution. The director was determined to make a movie that showed revolution as the ugly act is that leaves many, many people dead.

Not everyone involved in the war effort is especially passionate about the political cause either. The first character we meet in “Duck, You Sucker!” is Juan. Played by Rod Steiger, Juan is bandit who does not take his new status as a hero of the revolution well. Juan is a scoundrel. He has no problem killing, as long as it makes him money. After robbing the stagecoach at the beginning, he effectively forces himself on the sole female passenger. (Though her reaction is somewhat difficult to read.) The character shares roots with Tuco and Cheyenne, as a dirty thief with an odd sense of honor. Greed motivates him but it’s not the only thing that matter. His family means the world to him, his six sons from six mothers and his elderly father. They are his crew, helping him pull off heists, and their bond throws them together. How an amoral seeker of gold, albeit one with a lot of love for his family, accidentally becomes a revolutionary is the vein of the film that powers the whole thing. Steiger doesn’t entirely master the Mexican accent but his performance is committed and powerful, with plenty of humor and pathos.

The other half of the central duo is James Coburn as John. As with Henry Fonda in “Once Upon a Time in the West,” Leone had wanted to work with Coburn for some time. He had been approached for both the Man with No Name and Harmonica. Mallory is better suited to Coburn’s talents then either of those parts. John is a bit of a rogue. He has an almost fetishic love of explosives and sure likes to blow shit up. As a revolutionary himself, he sympathizes with the struggling rebels of Mexico. Like Steiger, Coburn does not entirely nail the character’s Irish accent. Coburn’s impish smile fits the character’s mischievous sense of humor. However, his deep eyes suggests John’s inner pain and meloncholey memories. Coburn is ideally cast in the part and it might be my favorite performance of his.

There are other actors and characters in “Duck, You Sucker!” but Steiger and Coburn are the stars of their show. The entire story is built around their relationship. When released in America as “A Fistful of Dynamite,” the movie was oddly sold as comedic. Calling the movie a comedy is more then a little disingenuous but “Duck, You Sucker!” is funny in spots. Upon realizing John’s skill with explosives, Juan imagines a religious banner over his head, reading “the Bank of Mesa Verde.” The back-and-forth the guys have is worth plenty of chuckles, especially when Juan finds John after missing his train. (Also funny: Mallory’s title-lending catch phrase. He frequently shouts “Duck, you sucker!” whenever a bomb is about to go off. What makes this is funny is, apparently, Sergio Leone believed this to be a common English phrase.) The friendship the two form is fraught at first, one solely of convenience. As their adventure goes on, they begin to rely on each other, liking each other’s humor. Both men realize the other is worth more then their appearance suggests.

In time, John is all Juan has. Though it starts off fairly light-hearted, the movie becomes darker in tone as it goes on. The turning point comes after Juan returns to his lair following a gun fight. The camera focus on Steiger’s face as he walks through the cave, his eyes watering. He mentions to John that he had never counted his family before. As the camera pulls back, we realize what has happened. John’s family is dead, executed by the military while he was away. Leone allows the scene to go on. He looks into the actors’ eyes, on the losses and sadness they’re feeling. The effect on the audience is immediate. From this point on, “Duck, You Sucker!” becomes darker, sadder and more violent. The men keep on fighting. Each other and the cause is the only thing keeping them going.

Surging beneath the film and powering it is Ennio Morricone’s score. As in previous collaborations, Morricone composes a different theme for each of the main characters. Juan is associated with plucking strings. Strange vocalizations, a toad-like croaking, also identifies with the character. John, meanwhile, has a more sweeping, romantic theme. An odd vocalization greets him as well. Halfway between a word and a sound, the chorus sings the name “Sean” repeatedly until it looses it meaning. (Sean is seemingly Mallory’s real name, if you’re wondering what the significance is.) Morricone’s music builds into a grand, melancholic theme. It’s perhaps my favorite score the composer has ever written.

As a war movie and a western, “Duck, You Sucker!” doesn’t lack action. As the alternate title of “A Fistful of Dynamite” suggests, the movie is filled with explosions. Coburn is introduced with a massive, dusty explosion that blows a hole in the mountain side. Later on, a church, a bank vault, a bridge, and a line of executioners all fall to John’s dynamite. The film concludes with a massive train crash, an impressive display of destruction. As for shoot-outs, the movie has got that too. Steiger’s break-in into the bank vault features some great sliding, sneaking, and shooting. An exciting moment has the two men pouring machine gun fire down on a bridge full of soldiers. By the finale, the film explodes into full-on war. Though less focused on chaos and gunfights then Leone’s other movies, “Duck, You Sucker!” is still likely to entertain action fans.

Another Leone trademark present in “Duck, You Sucker!” is the use of flashbacks. Throughout the film, we catch glimpses of John’s past. We see him frolicking with his best friend and his girlfriend, riding together and laughing. Morricone’s powerful, sad music plays over each scene, the flashbacks being otherwise silent. Through this device, and with zero exposition, we learn everything we need to know about the character. How he became involved with the revolution, why he left Ireland, and what those he lost meant to him. The final flashback even adds an interesting layer of ambiguity to the relationship John had with his best friend and the girl. It’s a poetic, beguiling choice and something that endlessly intrigues me about the film.

Lastly, “Duck, You Sucker!” looks gorgeous. As always, the director fills his movie with as many wide-screen shots as possible. A notable one is when a crowd of people swarm on Juan as he leaves a train. The epic action, with its crashing trains and explosions, are perfectly captured by Leone’s camera. The use of close-ups have never felt this intimate and personal before, the characters’ struggles and feelings being clear on their faces. As always, the contrast between the sweeping landscapes and the lingering close-ups marks the film as both a historical epic and a movie of great emotion.

The film ends tragically, suddenly, with a huge explosion. In the following silence, the survivor asks what he should do next. The title then flashes on-screen, answering his question. “Duck, you sucker!” Unappreciated for years, the film has quickly become recognized as one of the director’s many masterpieces. One of its several alternate tittles is “Once Upon a Time… the Revolution.” This neatly fits the film into the center of another trilogy, a trio of movies set during important historical events about hard men and the bonds they share. It's probably my favorite Leone film. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: Sergio Leone (1968)

5. Once Upon a Time in the West

After wrapping up the Dollars trilogy, and seemingly creating the high-point of the genre in “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” Sergio Leone said he was done making westerns. Despite offers from studios to make another, including one that would have starred Kirk Douglas, Leone held fast to that statement. That was until Paramount offered him a bigger budget and, more importantly, a starring role from Henry Fonda. Fonda was Leone’s favorite actor. He had previously tried to cast him as the Man with No Name in “A Fistful of Dollars.” Fonda’s involvement was enough to convince Leone to make another western. With a screenplay co-written by then film critic and future horror auteur Dario Argento, “Once Upon a Time in the West” rolled into production. The film is considered by some to be, not only Leone’s best works, but one of the best films ever made.

The railway is extending into the wild west. A portion of land called Sweetwater, owned by a man named McBain, is the easiest access to water in the desert. Knowing the railway would go through his property, McBain has plans to build a port. However, McBain is killed by goons hired by the railway man, Morton, and led by the vicious Frank. Plans to take the land is interrupted when McBain’s previously unmentioned wife, Jill, arrives in town. Also arriving in town is a mysterious stranger who plays the harmonica and a good natured bandit named Cheyenne. The four individuals come together in a tangled path of land ownership, the future of the town, and personal revenge.

Having all ready created the ultimate western with “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,” Leone’s goal with “Once Upon a Time in the West” was to push his style, and the genre with it, as far as it could go. The film begins with a long, mostly silent credits sequence. Three men arrive at the train station. The camera focuses on their hard, sweaty, wrinkled faces. They mill about, waiting for the train to arrive. A fly buzzes. A fan squeaks in the wind. Water drips from a leaky tower. There are no music, the sound effects filling in the background. When the stranger arrives, and guns down the assailants, the violence is lightening fast and sudden. These elements reoccur throughout the film. Leone’s camera is patient, often adsorbing what’s happen in slow, meticulous detail. Many of Leone’s narrative trademarks are present. There’s a powerful Morricone score, tense stand-offs between bad men, a torture sequence, and a motive-lending flashback slowly revealed throughout the film.

The scope of “Once Upon a Time in the West” is simultaneously huge and intimate. Leone’s lens is wider then ever before. The sweeping desert vistas, and the little men and towns lost among them, are shown in extra wide-screen. Yet Leone has always shot his actor’s face with the same sort of grand span. With Paramount backing the film, Leone was working with a major studio’s budget for the first time in his career. Thus the sets, props, costumes, and details are lavish. The bigger budget also allowed for a higher amount of grit. Every person and place of residence is caked with dirt and sweat. The movie goes as far as possible to replicate what the west actually looked and felt like.

Thematically, “Once Upon a Time in the West” deals with the end of the west. As the railway enters the Arizona desert, it bring civilization and order to the chaotic western frontier. The story deals with control over those commodities. The railway goes where the water is and whoever controls the railway, controls the future. Gunslingers like Harmonica, Cheyenne, and Frank are things of the past. Their time is winding down. By film’s end, the bloodshed is over. Vengeance is fulfilled and debts are paid. Two of the three men are dead and the last rides off, disappearing into the horizon. In their path, they leave a new town, new businesses, and a new world. Enough elegiac westerns have been made that it’s practically a genre onto itself. “Once Upon a Time in the West” makes the same point in a clear, subtle way.

In the Dollars Trilogy, women did not play a particularly large role. There’s one named female character in “A Fistful of Dollars.” All the women in the previous entries were either dead or the most minor of characters. “Once Upon a Time in the West” corrects this by making a woman the main character. Claudia Cardinale as Jill McBain drives much of the plot. The land she owns is what the villains are after. Jill is not a passive victim. When she hears a harmonica in the night, one of the most beguiling moments in the film, she grabs a rifle and prepares to fire. When Frank and his goons threaten her home, she goes directly to him, using the skills she knows. Because this was still 1968, Jill is a former prostitute and sleeps with Frank, in attempt to talk him out of his plans. It doesn’t work. Yet Jill’s checkered past is never held against her. It doesn’t make her any less strong. Cardinale is gorgeous, in addition to being the story’s emotional rock and its powerful center.

The film’s casting coup is Henry Fonda as Frank. Fonda’s public perception as a pure, virtuous hero was so ingrained that he was one of the few actors believably cast as both Abraham Lincoln and Tim Joad. His many appearances in westerns always had him playing the hero. Leone intentionally cast him against type. The man said it best himself: “An unseen man guns a child down in cold blood. The camera pans up and… it’s Henry Fonda.” Frank is a cold-blooded mercenary. He kills without question. His loyalties are sold to the highest bidder. He has a sadistic streak a mile wide. Fonda’s all-American good looks are surprisingly well-suited to a villain. His big blue eyes project a cruel coolness and a casual ability to end a life. His “romantic” scene with Cardinale has an intense undercurrent of malice. His negotiations with Morton are similarly fraught with dread. Frank is one of the most frightening villains in all of western history and Fonda is powerful in the role.

The other lead of “Once Upon a Time in the West” is another actor Sergio Leone had wanted to work with before. Charles Bronson was also approached to play the Man with No Name and declined. (In an unusually switch-a-roo, Harmonica was first offered to Clint Eastwood, who turned it down.) Harmonica is a variation on the same role, the stranger who wanders into town. In the ensuing years, Bronson would play many emotionless revenge killers and it was a part he excelled at. However, Bronson’s best roles played up his ability for a quiet humor. This is on displayed in his role as Harmonica. The character certainly has a way with the one-liner, coolly and calmly delivering dialogue about too many horses and people’s abilities to cut rope. The film plays up an unexpected side of Bronson. Beneath that stone face, the heavy brow, the crystal sharp green eyes, there is a surprising amount of emotion. By keeping his expression so still, Bronson suggests a man that has been hiding a lot. As he finally faces down his foe, his eyes shown in close-up by Leone, tears well up in his eyes. Of fear? Relief, over this finally being over? It’s hard to say. Either way, Harmonica is a definitive Charles Bronson character.

Filling out the third corner of the trio is James Robard’s Cheyenne. Robard, more commonly seen as down-to-Earth everyman, was also slightly cast against type as the rough gunslinger. Cheyenne is also a variation on a character that previously appeared in a Leone movie. The character has more then a little in common with Tuco. Both are comic relief in not especially funny movies. Both play hard men with rough histories and a life time of unspoken regrets behind them. Both form unexpected bonds with men that should be their enemies. Robards has a similar swagger and style to Eli Wallach as well. Out of the main cast, perhaps Cheyenne gets the short stick. He’s a rough-and-tumble bandit and gunfighter. However, the character is capable of unexpected insight. The jewel of wisdom he gives Jill are funny and touching in an odd way. Robards is very good in the role.

Ennio Morricone and Sergio Leone’s working relationship was entrenched by now. The score for “Once Upon a Time in the West” lacks the immediately recognizable themes of the Dollars Trilogy. This doesn’t mean it isn’t an excellent piece of music. Once again, Morricone creates unique themes for each main character. Harmonica is preceded by a mournful harmonica cry that builds into an abrasive shriek of strings. Those same harsh strings represent Frank, the cruel, rough villain. The sadness of the music hints at the character’s tragic past. Robard’s Cheyenne is greeted by the jangly plucking of the banjo, suggesting his down-home roots and comedic status. The most beautiful leitmotif is reserved for Jill, a gorgeous woman’s choir of building, swelling music. Though not as catchy as past work, Morricone’s music here is deep and resonating.

Despite its tough guy exterior, “Once Upon a Time in the West” is a film of great emotion. Though the film does not dwell on it, Jill slowly develops a romantic attraction to Harmonica. As a man who expects little of her and demands nothing, he appeals to the woman. His quiet strength also impresses her. Harmonica, however, is the wandering hero and can’t stay with her, even if he wanted too. Cheyenne should be a rival of the other man. He certainly doesn’t like him much when they first meet, finding him cocky and glib. However, a mutual enemy creates an alliance between the two. A begrudging respect forms soon afterwards and, by film’s end, the two are friends. The most affecting relationship in the film is between Harmonica and Frank. When the reason why the hero is pursuing the villainy is revealed, it’s some of the most effective and cruelly poetic imagery Leone would ever put to film.

No western is complete without a couple shoot-outs. And no Leone western is complete with an exciting, dynamic shoot-out. The bullets come fast and fierce. The opening shoot-out between Brosnan and the three men is over in seconds. More then once, he displays his lightening fast shooting skills, knocking men off their horses. Having a fast drawl does not make him unique in this film. Frank’s skills are such that he can shoot the buckles of a man’s belt. A creative sequence is set on a train. Cheyenne climbs along the outside. An especially clever bit has him hiding a gun in his boot. The most elaborate shoot-out takes place in town, as Frank’s own men turn on him. It recalls the town wide shoot-outs in “For a Few Dollars More” and “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” However, this one is even more dynamic in its violence, with more men falling from railings and hiding behind billboards. Yet the crowning achievement is the final showdown between Harmonica and Frank. The gun fight is over in seconds. The build-up is the show, the men circling each other, starring one another down. In these tough men’s eyes, Leone paints vivid pictures.

When I first saw “Once Upon a Time in the West,” I liked it but also thought it was too long and paled in comparison to the Dollars films. Upon rewatcing the film, I liked it a lot more. Yes, it is very long. (Though shorter then “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.”) That doesn’t affect my enjoyment of the movie much. The film is a crowning achievement, equal parts exciting and deep, an emotional, poetic journey. Whether or not it’s truly the best western of all time isn’t for me to decide. It is definitively a masterpiece and one of the best films from a director who made plenty of good movies. [Grade: A]

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-]