Closing the Book

Often considered the best year for westerns (which is saying something), 1969 brought forth a wide array of spectacular and dynamic films (ranging from traditional to more modern style fare) – Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, True Grit, The Wild Bunch, The Undefeated, Paint Your Wagon, Mackenna’s Gold, Support Your Local Sheriff!. . . the list goes on and on. Also add 100 Rifles, co-adapted and directed by Tom Gries (from the 1966 novel The Californio), to that illustrious list. Set in 1912, the narrative brings together three intersecting storylines in a rather engaging way: a beautiful young woman, Sarita (Raquel Welch), is forced to hang from her father’s legs as he is being hung (helping him die a little bit quicker); a half-Yaqui, half Alabaman robber, Joe Herrera (Burt Reynolds), hides out somewhere in Mexico (after having just stolen six thousand dollars from an American bank), while an African American officer, Lyedecker (Jim Brown), is on the hunt for this slippery fellow.

When you are so in love with movies and tv series (as I am – and I’m sure many of you are as well), you can really get drawn into the idea that what you are watching is vital art and thrilling entertainment. Though that may be true, it can sometimes lead us to forget that at its core, everything we watch is actually a money making decision – which makes sense, though it can cause film lovers many frustrations. Movies shelved due to political issues, sequels canned due to underperforming box office returns, projects never getting green-lit due to their uniqueness, beloved television series being cancelled before getting their just endings. . . there are countless examples of disgruntled and frustrated fans never seeing projects they have long hoped for coming to fruition (or getting a satisfactory conclusion). Yet, every once in a while, a miracle happens. Flashback sixteen years and I was a movie and television obsessed teenager, bingeing numerous shows on DVD that have long since ended (somehow, Supernatural and The Simpsons are still there), one of which was Deadwood. A story like none seen before, it was western both traditional and modern, a cacophony of bloody good violence, foul language, entrancing historic stories and so much more. A show that opened firing on all cylinders, fans sopped up its muddy streets (and equally muddy characters), critics embraced every minute detail, and everything seemed right with the world. A few years later, all still seemed well in the world of Deadwood. . . until, out of blue, it was unceremoniously cancelled (after season three).

The narrator – the gateway into so many stories. From film noir and western, to coming of age. . . or a plethora of others, this is the voice that guides us through these movies. Sometimes we listen to a seemingly doomed main character like Fred MacMurray’s Walter Neff in Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity, or an author reflecting back on his youth (Richard Dreyfuss in Stand By Me), perhaps it is a more obscure Stranger like Sam Elliot’s character in The Big Lebowski, or one of my favourites – The Grim Reaper (Gabriel Byrne) overlooking the sordid happenings in Perrier’s Bounty. In any case, they can lead and mislead, critique and reflect, observe and report, infer or be all knowing. . . a wonderful vehicle to drive a narrative to its conclusion. One of the most unique premises I’ve seen in some time, editor Eric Kissack (Daddy’s Home; Veep; The Good Place) takes a turn directing the 2014 western short The Gunfighter (written by Kevin Tenglin), in what you would expect to be a pretty typical nine minute shoot `em up. . . yet it is anything but.

Reworking the spaghetti western one strand at a time, Quentin Tarantino updates the Italian sub-genre for the modern age, 2012's Django Unchained, an epic tale of lost love and hopeful reunion. . . and, of course, bloody revenge. Following a charmingly charismatic and cunning bounty hunter. . . who used to be a dentist, Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz) is a master planner who has a flair for the dramatic. Tracking down a slave named Django (Jamie Foxx), he needs the man to help him finger his next set of criminals (setting him free for the task). Without giving away what happens on the first bounty Django joins him on, it is the quintessential mix of Tarantino humour combined with bloody violence – a scene of utter perfection.

There is a fascinating duality to the old west. Still mostly unsullied, the natural landscape was peaceful, serene, carrying with it an almost quiet solemnity (a new life filled with hope), yet, in the blink of an eye, violence could rear its ugly head, leaving behind a long lasting wake of pain, hurt, melancholy, and anger. An existential study of the clash of cultures, and the grey areas that sit in the large milieu between war and peace, Scott Cooper’s 2017 western Hostiles is a film that pays tribute to the past whilst speaking to the present unrest found in the world today. Centred around a man of conviction, stoic military veteran Capt. Joseph J. Blocker (Christian Bale), he has made his living off of slaughtering the native hordes that disrupt America’s Manifest Destiny. Called into the office of his superior, Col. Abraham Biggs (Stephen Lang), early one morning, he is less than pleased to learn that his final assignment (before retiring) will be to transport a cancer-riddled Cheyenne war chief, Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi), and his family, including son Black Hawk (Adam Beach), from New Mexico to his homelands of Montana – at the bequest of President Harrison. At first willing to disobey orders on his principles (Yellow Hawk was responsible for killing many of his colleagues and friends), the Colonel threatens to court-martial him and remove his pension – basically forcing him to take the job.