My memory of watching The
Good, the Bad, and the Ugly the first time was that it was long and good,
but felt more like work than enjoyment. Fifteen years later my view is
completely different. This is a masterful piece of filmmaking, a movie that
plays with genre expectations and is humorous, violently playful, serious, and
all-around entertaining. I’m not sure what didn’t strike me about it the first
time.
I should start by mentioning the Spaghetti Western as a
subset of western films. These were generally cheap films financed in Italy and
mostly shot in Spain where the terrain closely resembles the American West.
They used local and other European actors. Sergio Leone became the most famous
of the Italian Spaghetti Western directors after the success of his two Clint
Eastwood “Dollars” films. After that, Columbia put a relatively large amount of
money toward Leone’s next film. The Good,
the Bad, and the Ugly starred three American actors in the title roles.
Eastwood is Blondie, the man with no name, or “the Good” of the title. Eli
Wallach Tucco, or the Ugly, and Lee Van Cleef is the Bad, also known as Angel
Eyes. The rest of the actors are various Italian, Spanish, and German actors,
all of whom spoke their native languages in the scenes. The dialogue was
overdubbed with English-speaking actors later. Yes, it gives the movie a
distracting and cheap feeling, but it somehow grows on you over the course of
the movie, especially considering just how marvelous Leone’s style is.
He introduces the three main characters in an extended
prologue. The first twenty minutes doesn’t even have any dialogue. Tucco is
first, seen hurling himself out a window, turkey leg in hand, mouthful of meat
after shooting several would-be assailants dead. Angel Eyes visits a man in his
home. His face and his wife’s expression tell us this will not end well. Sure
enough, Angel Eyes has shot the man and one of his sons dead before leaving. He
kills in cold blood, without remorse, even wearing a sly grin while he does it.
Blondie is the anti-hero. He wears the white hat and the title calls him “Good”,
but he’s part of a partnership racket with Tucco. He collects reward money for
capturing and turning him in, then shoots the rope of the noose just as the
townspeople are about to hang him. Later he decides to end their partnership by
leaving Tucco bound and without a horse in the middle of the desert. Apart from
a comment about the ransom never increasing on Tucco’s head, he has no real
motivation for doing this or leaving him in such manner. Except that Blondie is
not entirely good. He’s taciturn and has a great poker face that conceals how
clever he is. Though there are key moments that reveal his heart and humanity,
he has very little regard for Tucco, who is something like a nuisance of a pet
dog.
There is a minor plot to speak of. All three men are
after a large stash of gold buried in a cemetery. Tucco knows the cemetery and
Blondie knows the name on the grave. Financial opportunism drives these
characters. This is a movie that de-mythologizes the West. There’s no honorable
hero in a quest for justice. Heck, the characters don’t even really change or
learn anything. It’s just an adventure with a MacGuffin that Blondie and Tucco
are trying to survive through the end. Leone, a foreigner, was just the man to
make a western divorced from the typical Hollywood tropes. The only
recognizable standard is the presence of the military, the Civil War serving as
the backdrop to the action and often hindering their progress.
Leone didn’t do much research apparently. Or if he did,
he ignored what he learned because in Texas there were no significant battles
or encounters between the two sides in the Civil War. But that doesn’t matter.
The war provides a sense of time and place and, more importantly, makes it
clear that the three main characters have no true allegiances. They are willing
to ally themselves to whatever side is most convenient in the moment.
Any talk of The
Good, the Bad, and the Ugly that fails to mention Ennio Morricone’s iconic
and much repeated and oft imitated score probably isn’t worth reading. That
memorable theme, so often whistled as a means of calling to mind a showdown or
impending gunfight, plays out again and again through various iterations.
Morricone uses whistles, brass instruments, woodwinds, and what sounds like
screeching voices until it has become so engrained and embedded in the mind
that by the midway point is clearly signals sinister deeds or mishaps. But even
taking away that one musical theme, the movie is still left with wonderful
themes that underscore the danger and bad luck that confront Blondie and Tucco.
It’s not music in the style of Elmer Bernstein’s triumphant Magnificent Seven score or countless
other western scores, both memorable and forgettable. It’s a new take on the
sounds that convey the idea of lawlessness and the open west.
It’s a movie of great style and even grander ambition.
Leone’s camera alternates between long shots that take in either wide landscape
or characters swallowed up by their surroundings and tight close-ups on his
characters. Those close-ups tell little stories of their own. Leone chose
actors with interesting faces. Every background face, every bit part, every
secondary character has a map of the world on his face. There is so much
texture to be found in such simplicities that you just don’t get from the homogeneity
of Hollywood faces. Leone often favors holding shots for extended periods of
time. He creates small operatic moments by drawing out time through editing.
The final gunfight showdown between the three main characters is shot first
from great distance showing the men slowly moving to their respective positions
in the landscape. Leone then progressively cuts close and close, faster and
faster, showing their faces, their hands, their eyes until a brief explosion of
violence. The violence is another stylistic hallmark of Leone’s. Unlike the
incredible violence of Peckinpah’s westerns (contemporaneous with Leone), Leone’s
violence is fast, explosive, and over before you know what happened. He retains
that element of realism in a film otherwise doing so much to defy reality that it
winds up adhering to a certain kind of movie magic.
No comments:
Post a Comment