The IMDB Top 50 Challenge #22 Once Upon A Time In The West

Once, the western ruled Hollywood. John Ford and John Wayne dominated the cinematic landscape, cowboys triumphed over Indians and American heroes were white men wearing Stetsons. But as the 1960s drew to a close, the genre was dying. The reasons for this were myriad: the end of the studio system; the growing distance between modernity and the frontier; the inexorable rise of technology and science fiction; the increasingly uncomfortable portrayals of women, blacks, Hispanics and Native Americans and the proliferation of cheap western TV shows which so badly diluted the brand.

Perversely, as the western’s appeal faded, Italian director Sergio Leone produced its most ambitious, original and epic movie: Once Upon A Time In The West. A sprawling 160 minute running time, stunning cinematography, Ennio Morricone’s masterful score and Leone’s artful direction combined to produce one of cinema’s most loving tributes to America’s bygone era. Seen by many as Leone handing over the cinematic baton to the younger directors who would come to dominate the seventies (Coppola, Scorsese, Kubrick, et al), the film is the triumphant final flourish of cinema’s most iconic genre.

Once Upon a Time in the West is rightly revered for its riveting opening scene: three rough and ready cowboys waiting quietly at a railway station to kill a new arrival in town. Virtually nothing happens - but it happens wonderfully. The three archetypal desperados stand, leather clad and perspiring in the high noon sun as Leone cuts artfully between them, switching from widescreen vistas to intense close-up. They say nothing, with the soundtrack instead supplied by the amplified sound effects of dripping water and buzzing flies. It’s impossible to describe quite how wonderful the scene is at it builds to one of Leone’s most memorable images: Charles Bronson filmed from ground level through a pair of dusty cowboy boots.

Bronson is the enigmatic Harmonica, in town to meet with local villain Frank (a grizzled Henry Fonda). Rather than keep their appointment, however, Frank has sent his greeting party – who Harmonica quickly and ruthlessly dispatches. Quite why Harmonica is in town is a mystery –although he quickly finds himself involved in local drama and politics – with beautiful local widow Jill McBain (the utterly gorgeous Claudia Cardinale).

In an apparently motiveless attack, Jill’s husband and children were cut down in cold blood by Frank and his goons – with Frank himself shooting dead his youngest son before framing local crook Cheyenne (a wonderfully laconic Jason Robards) for the massacre. Into the moral breach steps Harmonica, accompanied always by Ennio Morricone’s evocative musical motif, shaking up the established order and attempting to restore justice to the burgeoning frontier town.

There’s nothing particularly original in such a storyline. Indeed, many of its characters are typical Western clichés: a widowed femme fatale, a framed man, a mysterious stranger, a criminal businessman and his collection of lackeys, and the narrative has little new to say, treading the well worn path of justice being dispensed for previous misdemeanours. To criticise Once Upon A Time In The West for this, however, would be a huge mistake.

Where Leone’s film differs from so many previous genre films is in its execution. It’s a sumptuous, beautifully produced film of enormous creativity and style. Leone’s camerawork is masterful, moving elegantly between sprawling panoramas to tight close-ups of weather beaten faces, each frame composed perfectly. One scene, particularly, encapsulates this wonderfully controlled cinematography: Frank and Harmonica circle each other with vicious intent whilst Leone’s camera sweeps around the pair. Harmonica is static, the camera gently moving around his impassive face. Frank is edgy and skittish, filmed in mid-shot with the camera swooping around him. Their respective characters are reflected brilliantly – but never at the expense of the tension of the showdown.

Sound, too, is key to Leone’s artistic vision. With the supreme Morricone providing the musical score, this is hardly surprising – but Once Upon A Time In The West does not rely on music and dialogue for its rich soundtrack. Amplified sound effects bleed into one other, climb to crescendos or disappear altogether at moments of tension. Occasionally the score masks the dialogue – a deliberate ploy to keep the audience guessing. Where many directors rely on weather to replicate mood and tone, here Leone is robbed of that opportunity by the relentless sun. Instead, his sound mix does what the weather cannot – creating tension and danger through its motifs and haunting music.

There’s sadness here, too. The relentless march of the railroad across the American plains represents both progress and sadness at the passing of an era – just as Leone’s movie mourns the passing of the greatest American genre. A noble tradition ends here, replicated in the film’s moving final act as Harmonica concedes that he and Cheyenne belong to ‘an ancient race’ – one which now belongs to our cinematic past.

Meek's Cutoff

Set in 1845, Meek’s Cutoff follows a group of three young families travelling along the Oregon Trail to seek a better life in the richer pastures of the Willamette Valley. Having split from a larger group on the advice of the titular Steven Meek (Bruce Greenwood), the party are facing an unenviable trek with the threat of ambush from Native American hunting parties. Will they make their destination before their water runs dry?

Meek himself is an obnoxious and objectionable character. His narrow eyes peer out from behind a beard which completely obscures his face – but which never prevents him running his mouth. Despite being utterly lost, Meek is unwilling to admit fault and attempts to bluster his way through proceedings via sheer bravado and bullshit. He’s utterly transparent and everyone knows it.

A stunning (and bravely silent) opening scene begins with the three female characters carefully and deliberately crossing a river. Each holds items above their heads to keep them from getting wet, making it immediately apparent that the women here are workers - and strong with it. As the narrative progresses they’ll grow stronger still. This changing dynamic is best embodied by Emily Tetherow (Michelle Williams), who seems to draw strength directly from the weakening Meek as she grows increasingly intolerant of his faux-wisdom and ill-deserved authority. Her undermining of their supposed ‘leader’ is based largely in her caring attitude towards a Native American captured by the party – a show stealing performance from the charismatic Rod Rondeaux.

Williams gives an excellent performance, as do all the cast. It’s a story with relatively few words, so the spare dialogue is imbued with layers of meaning and requires a strong yet subtle delivery. For the most part this happens, but occasionally muffled diction or background noise obscures some vital dialogue. It’s a shame but it matters little - the real star of Meek’s Cutoff is the amazing scenery.

The cinematography is absolutely stunning. Director Kelly Reichardt is not shy of letting the pictures tell the story – and why would you be when they’re as stunning as these? Most scenes are punctuated by beautiful vistas, warm sunsets and long distance shots of the wagons making their way from east to west. The shots linger without ever outstaying their welcome, making clear both the magnitude of the task in hand and the scale of the country in which the characters are lost.

Despite the relative lack of dialogue, the dearth of action and the slow pace of the piece, it’s a movie which remains gripping throughout. Sadly, the ‘cutoff’ of the title is take rather too literally in a rather abrupt ending. But it’s the only shock to the system in an elegant film. And in a film which concerns itself with the journey it’s fitting that the destination is not all that important.

True Grit (Redux)

Initially filmed with John Wayne in the lead role, True Grit has long been considered a Western classic. Rather than remaking that version of the story, Joel and Ethan Cohen have gone back to the source material in their retelling of the tale. Charles Portis’ original novel has been closely replicated with the character of Mattie Rose once again becoming a fourteen year old girl and dialogue reproduced faithfully. After a couple of less well-received films, will a return to the Western genre bring the Cohens similar success to the fantastic O Brother Where Art Thou?

Like many Westerns, True Grit follows a familiar tale of revenge. Only this time there is a strikingly original twist: the vengeful protagonist is a fourteen year old girl. Mattie Rose (Hailee Steinfeld) is absolutely fantastic in her film debut as the upright teenager robbed of her father at the hands of murderous Tom Chainey (Josh Brolin). With Chainey unlikely to be brought to justice she employs one-eyed mercenary Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to apprehend him. Along the way they are joined by Matt Damon’s doughy Texas ranger, Le Boeuf and the chase is on.

It’s an impeccably crafted film. The cinematography is beautiful, the script alternates between being spare and being hilariously funny and the acting performances are uniformly excellent. It’s hard to decide who gives the best performance. Steinfeld had her work cut out acting alongside screen giants like Bridges and Damon and stands up to them admirably. She imbues her character with a strength and clarity of purpose which belies her tender years and is unfortunate that her Oscar nomination is only for ‘supporting’ actress – she could claim with some justification to be the lead role.

Bridges is magnificent as Cogburn. He gives a physically committed performance, bloated and wheezing and having affected an accent so thick as to be almost indecipherable at times. But when he needs to be understood he is – and often with hilarious consequences. It’s the whisky-soaked role of a lifetime and the veteran revels in it. Damon clearly had fun, too. His dandified ranger completes the extremely unlikely trio: a fat one-eyed man, a harpy in trousers and a nincompoop.

As you might expect from a Western there are hangings, shootings and horses galore. But it’s a film which doesn’t need to rely on set pieces. What sets True Grit apart is the characterisation and scripting. There are numerous laugh-out-loud moments (particularly some hard-line haggling from Mattie) and some excellent comic cameos – particularly from members of the medical profession and undertakers. What knits these scenes together is the complexity and development of the characters - and that owes everything to the alchemy of scripting, acting and craftsmanship which the Cohens have presided over. Stunning stuff.

High Noon Revisited

Until I was at university the whole genre of ‘the Western’ completely passed me by. And, truth be told, it never really interested me academically. But a whole semester of studying all those great American classics offered me my first opportunity to see heroes like John Wayne and Clint Eastwood on a big screen. I rarely attended the lectures or seminars that term – but I sure as hell went to the screenings.

Recently the Western has enjoyed something of a revival. The magnificently sweary Deadwood was a massive hit for HBO, the unheralded 3:10 To Yuma brought high-class gun-slinging back to the silver screen and the recent re-hashing of True Grit looks set to be garlanded with Oscars and various other awards. So with that in mind I decided to take another look at one of the genre’s all time classics: High Noon.

In a sleepy town outgoing marshal Will Kane (Gary Cooper) marries his sweetheart Amy (Grace Kelly) and hangs up his gun for the final time. With the new sheriff being sworn in the following day the town is set to be ‘lawless’ for the evening as the happy couple ride into the distance on their honeymoon. But word arrives that the villain Frank Miller (Ian MacDonald) is due back in Hadleyville on the noon train – and that he’ll be gunning for the man who imprisoned him: Kane.

It’s a simple premise and one which always looks likely to end in gunshots and bloodshed. But it’s utterly absorbing, filled with symbolism, charismatically acted and startlingly innovative. Almost fifty years before Jack Bauer’s 24 brought us real time action, High Noon introduced the idea. Telling the story (almost exactly) within its own running time adds a real sense of urgency and anticipation as the action unfolds – particularly as almost omnipresent clocks are a constant reminder of the passing of time.

Carrying the whole endeavour is the wonderful Gary Cooper: a typically all American hero. Upright, noble and just, he’s the kind of man born to play characters such as Kane. He’s also the kind of man who most of us would want to be. But when it comes to the crunch the vast majority of the characters in High Noon (and probably in the watching audience) are less straightforward and heroic than Kane.

One of the more interesting aspects of the film is that the supporting cast consists of conflicted, multi-faceted individuals. In most other Westerns Kane would simply put together a posse of lawman, ride out to meet Miller and justice would prevail. But here cowardice, self-interest and selfishness are prevalent. Heroism curries little favour with the locals and many even deride Kane for bringing trouble on the community rather than simply running away. It can’t be coincidence that it emerged during fears over McCarthyism – there are parallels which can also be seen in contemporary dramas like Arthur Miller’s The Crucible and Friedrich Durrenmatt’s The Visit.

As is often the case in the genre, the cast is mainly male - sadly Grace Kelly offers little as wet blanket Amy. But sultry Helen Ramirez (Katy Jurado) bucks the trend as the voice of sanity and reason. It’s heartening to see such a strong character and even more so that she’s Mexican – pretty novel and groundbreaking back in the fifties.

The imagery and iconography (Stetsons, sheriff’s badges and six-shooters) will be familiar to anyone with a passing interest in the genre, but the style and pacing is entirely new. Building slowly and steadily to the inevitable climax, High Noon often favours stillness and characterisation to action – and benefits greatly from it. It’s a thinking man’s Western which was way ahead of the game when it was made and remains original and thought-provoking today.