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Wednesday, Oct 15, 2014
Clint Eastwood may not have been a star when A Fistful of Dollars was released, but everything changed for him not long after that.

If it wasn’t for Sergio Leone’s love of lengthy luncheons, the Spaghetti Western as we know it would not exist. Long lunch breaks got him fired from his second unit job on The Last Days of Sodom and Gomorrah (1962), and temporary unemployment got him the spare time needed to start writing the screenplay that would become Fistful of Dollars. Over the next year or so Jamie Comas, Victor Catena, Tonino Valerii, Duccio Tessari, and Fernando Di Leo all contributed to it. Then, in 1964, Leone used his powerful visual style and a deathly desert setting to bring the screenplay to life and make the film that would forever define the genre. 


He lifted the plot from Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo (1961), which was itself lifted from Dashiell Hammett’s hardboiled crime novel, Red Harvest (1929). Although the first follows a hard-drinking detective of American noir, the second a masterless Samurai of Japanese lore, and the third a existential gunman of the Wild West, all three stories feature marksmen who, after arriving to towns in turmoil due to on-going gang wars, pit one gang against the other to bring gold to their pockets and peace to the citizens.


Each of the stories are entertaining works of art, but Leone’s film has aged the best and for me is the only true classic. In Red Harvest, the story intrigues, but the shallow characters annoy. Watch Yojimbo and the visuals hypnotize but the social commentary distracts. With Fistful of Dollars, on the other hand, Leone captures Hammett’s story, even adding some biblical undertones to it, in the process matching Kurosawa’s visuals with extreme closeups, beautiful wide-shots, and flawless framing. He then tops it off with Ennio Morricone’s groundbreaking score that mixes whiplash sound effects, slow trumpet pieces, guitar solos, and repetitive choruses to dictate the mood and foreshadow the narrative. Then there is the character who has since become—alongside Sean Connery as James Bond and Bruce Lee as ‘Bruce Lee’—cinema’s greatest action hero.


This character, this marksman who comes to the Mexican town of San Miguel to play the two gangs against each in order to intensify their rivalry and increase the bloodshed until it’s time clean up the leftovers, is The Man With No Name. The two gangs he manipulates into all-out war are the Baxters and the Rojos. The gunrunning Baxters are a Gringo family made-up of the spineless Sheriff John Baxter (Wolfgang Lukschy), his wife Consuela (Margarita Jimenez), who calls the shots behind the scenes, and their idiot son Antonio (Benito Carotenuto). The liquor-hustling Rojos are run by a trio of Mexican brothers including the trigger-happy but incompetent Esteban Rojo (Sieghardt Rupp), acting-boss Don Miguel (Antonio Prieto), and the most sadistic and the sharpest shooter of them, Ramon (Gian Maria Volonte), who would act as the genre standard for a psychotic gang-leader. 


There’s also Ramon’s enslaved mistress Marisol (Marianne Koch), whose pretty face and how it is treated is used to direct our loyalties, Silvanito (Jose Calvo), the closest thing to a friend The Man With No Name will ever have, and the unforgettable Piripero (Joe Edger). Piripero, a straggly old-timer who you can probably find a lookalike of in the corner of your divest neighborhood bar, is the only man in the town of San Miguel with a steady job. And because his job is to make the coffins and dig the graves for all the dead bodies The Man With No Name creates, his riches and exuberance increases as the film progresses. “Get three coffins ready,” The Man With No Name tells him but then, after killing four of Baxter’s men, clarifies: “My Mistake. . . four coffins.”


But for Leone, the story of Fistful of Dollars and all the supporting characters who make it up are of minor importance. It’s all decoration for The Man With No Name. Piripero is memorable, but only because his happy demeanor contrasts with the coolness of The Man With No Name. It’s the same with Ramon and how his success as a charismatic and insane villain is dependent on The Man With No Name’s success as a level-headed, money-driven anti-hero. With the next two installments of the ‘Dollar Trilogy,’ For a Few Dollars More (1965) and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966), Leone would shape his stories around an already developed and iconic character—and in consequence created his true masterpieces—but with Fistful of Dollars he had to create the icon and then insert it into a story. 


As the work of Hammett and Kurowsawa proved, Leone knew that moviegoers would buy the ticket and take the ride, but he also knew that if his harrowing vision of the Wild West was going to work, he needed the right leading actor. The Man With No Name had to come off as both charming and dangerous, handsome and grimy, mystical and convincing. Leone needed someone that could carry an old story to new heights. He needed a Spaghetti Western prophet. 


Henry Fonda was Leone’s first choice, but he was too big of a star. Charles Bronson thought the script was pathetically bad. James Coburn was too expensive. Because Jolly Film was producing Fistful of Dollars and had great success with its first Spaghetti Western, Gunfight at Red Sands (1963), Leone was encouraged to consider the star of that film, Richard Harrison, for the role of The Man With No Name. Lucky for us all, Harrison turned the role down and instead recommended Clint Eastwood. The rest, as they say, is history. 


Under Leone’s direction, Eastwood created the prototype Spaghetti Western protagonist in The Man With No Name. He’s a cynical, self-reliant, amoral loner who rides a scruffy mule, takes a beating like Jake LaMotta, and has a knack for dry humor. He moves with the deliberate pace of a stoned teenager forced to clean the family pool, yet draws and shoots his gun with unparalleled speed and accuracy. His unshaven face, permanent cigar, and dusty poncho are as recognizable to film buffs as the Holy Cross is to Christians. And, like the son of God who was crucified upon that cross, Eastwood took to his role as Leone’s chosen savior of the western genre as though it was his destiny. 


Not only did Eastwood rewrite most of his dialogue to great effect, but he also oozes with confidence in every scene. At that time, he wasn’t a great talent, and he didn’t have a lot of experience going into A Fistful of Dollars. I used to think that his confidence was the delusional sort commonly seen in handsome young up-and-coming actors who have never known failure or struggle, but then I learned that in the years before he moved to Madrid to commence filming with Leone, Eastwood was working menial jobs as a lifeguard, a gas station attendant, and a ditch digger to supplement his erratic acting gigs.


I can’t say where Eastwood’s confidence comes from, but I can say that he is an enigma. His performance as The Man With No Man in the “Dollar Trilogy” is brilliant, and the film in which Leone gives birth to it, A Fistful of Dollars, is the most important Spaghetti Western ever made.


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Tuesday, Oct 14, 2014
They are the contemporary voices of an ages old ideal, the new fear masters in a genre sometimes stunted by its own lack of (critical) legitimacy.

Some horror legends are still around—Tobe Hooper, John Carpenter, George Romero, Dario Argento—and every once in a while they happenstance into something that adds to (instead of detracting from) their already regal reputation. They are the current Masters of Horror, creepshow kings extraordinaire. Then there are the near-misses, the Michele Soavis and Bernard Roses who made massive initial impressions (Dellamorte Dellamore and Paperhouse, respectively) before slinking off into scary movie exile.


Indeed, thanks to the rise in technology, the bankability of fear, and the unbridled fandom which fuels many homemade horror movies, there are very few maestros left in the macabre, man or woman. In fact, it’s safe to say that many of the moviemakers today, your Marcus Nispels and your Bryan Bertinos, seem more interested in moving beyond dread, to play with the “real” artists of the cinema, so to speak.


Tagged as: horror
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Monday, Oct 13, 2014
There are five reasons to revisit Bloody Mama in light of its recent Kino Lorber reissue.

1. Knock-off of Bonnie and Clyde: Producer-director Roger Corman kept his eye on trends, following some and anticipating others. He’d made a few gangster pictures before, but after Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde became a controversial hit, he saw an opening for another period bloodbath that takes liberties with real-life outlaws.


Thus, the world has Bloody Mama, based on the Depression-era exploits of Ma Barker and her wayward bank-robbing sons. They’d already been featured in a low-budget wonder called Ma Barker’s Killer Brood (1960) and an episode of TV’s The Untouchables; but heck, there’d already been a movie called The Bonnie Parker Story in 1958, and that hadn’t stopped Penn. Many critics saw Corman’s film as a vicious, violent, low-budget rip-off of a vicious, violent, respectable Hollywood hit, and reviewed it accordingly.


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Friday, Oct 10, 2014
Dracula Untold is terrible. It should be subtitled Dracula Unnecessary.

Who knew? Who knew that Count Dracula was, at one time, a pretty decent guy. A bit morose and damaged from a stint as a child soldier for a marauding Turk, but as an adult, a nobleman with a kind heart, a compassionate manner, and a devotion to his people. Yes, Prince Vlad was a good person, plagued by a kingdom filled with whiners, but still able to rise above the rabble to do what’s right to maintain his 15th century sovereignty.


Doesn’t quite jive with your memories of the “monster”, does it? That’s because Universal is being run by a bunch of jealous desk jockeys who’ve taken one look at what Disney and Marvel have created via their vast superhero universes and phases and have shouted strongly “Yes, please!” And why not? The House of Mouse and its billion dollar acquisition have seen their bottom line increase as many zeroes, if not more, based on such a plan. Besides, if they can make Maleficent a misunderstood moneymaker, why not the former Prince of Darkness?


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Thursday, Oct 9, 2014
Even the most dedicated follower of fear hasn't seen every horror movie made. Here are ten you need to catch up with, if you haven't already.

So, you’re a horror fan. A dedicated follower of dread. You’ve seen all the classics and suffered through hundreds of hackneyed wannabes. Whenever October roles around and the studios start thinking about scares, you head over to your favorite fright-oriented website and read up on all the potential paranormal activity to take place. You eagerly anticipate a date at the local Cineplex, or more times than not, an epic streaming across several VOD platforms.


Usually you’re disappointed. Sometimes, you’re rewarded. And even after all that, after numerous revisits to a certain cabin in the woods or a haunted ‘70s-era farmhouse, you’re still not satisfied. You want more, and not just the junk that Tinseltown thinks is frightening (like sudden shocks in front of a surveillance camera).


Tagged as: horror films
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