“Hey, Blondie! You know what you are?! JUST A DIRTY SON OF A—“
Time to talk about a classic—one that for many, has become THE spaghetti western. It’s the rare third in a trilogy that has largely eclipsed its other counterparts, it’s been homaged and referenced hundreds of times in the 55-odd years since, and it boasts to me one of the greatest movie themes of all time. It’s Sergio Leone’s masterpiece—it’s The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly.
As far as Italian cinema goes, I’ve often had an appreciation for those western films that were filmed in the sandy parts of Iberia that are ironically about as east from the old American frontiers as you can get. Around the former half of the sixties, the genre was as dominant in Hollywood as it had been—but away from its stifling codes and repetitive Roy Rogers storylines, directors like Leone and Cobucci were about to give it a much-needed shakeup. Less romanticization, less clear-cut cowboys in oddly spotless leather, and more morally ambiguous antiheroes whose goal was often just to survive. Often times, there was a rather political under covering of satire regarding the entire genre itself, or the history it drew on. With classic unshaven characters like Franco Nero as the original Django, these new era of films soon drew in players from the States itself—including one up and coming Clint Eastwood, starting with A Fistful of Dollars.
Yes, say what you will about Mr. Eastwood—insert your own Gorillaz reference here—but it’s undeniable that he imprinted himself upon the entire western to an arguable even bigger degree than someone like John Wayne did, and his mere bedrock-chiselled appearance here is an aesthetic icon. I can’t think of any way the resultant Dollars trilogy would’ve become such a part of cinema history without him, and the take-no-shit attitude his performance as the Man With No Name conveys with such magnificent aptitude.
Of course, here he’s but part of a leading trio, as the title indicates. Here, Eastwood’s Blondie starts off as a bounty hunter running a con with his somewhat resentful partner and soon to be bitter rival, Tuco (Eli Wallach)—who many have convincingly argued is the real star of the film. Soon to be tangled with them is the Bad, the ruthless mercenary Angel Eyes, played by the wonderfully intense Lee Van Cleef—whose presence is somewhat sporadic, but when he shows up, he invariably makes an impact like he’s the Terminator of the old west. None of these characters are exactly clean cut—even Blondie, while the most willing to show sympathy, isn’t above being cold-hearted. And while Tuco is an opportunistic bastard, there are times when you see why exactly he’s being so, and in an environment defined by its harshness, there’s at least enough room to see why he’s doing what he can just to live. Especially, of course, in one awesome scene involving a shootout from a bathtub of all places.
With the Civil War as a backdrop, all three end up on the search for a cache of gold, with Blondie and Tuco knowing separate items of its location that they’re unwilling to share with each other. Each one trying to pry from the other, not trusting the other for a moment but forced to co-operate, adds that key element that makes their interactions so interesting and fun. Over the film’s three-hour runtime, both go through an almost episodic series of escapades through the war and their encounters with each other—but we learn enough about their drives and motivations that it holds your attention, especially if you check it out in a theater setting as I did for my full watch. The American Civil War itself is viewed somewhat dispassionately in a way that probably wouldn’t be done now—the characters are mercenary enough that they largely treat it as just another thing to navigate through, but there’s sympathy given to those soldiers simply going through hell. One of my favorite sequences is when Blondie and Tuco end up relieving an entrenched Union battalion lead by a despairing commander—though of course, their real goal is simply to cross a river, with their cemetery destination beckoning across.
And when we get to that cemetery, that’s when what’s become easily one of my top ten cinematic sequences of all time kicks in. That is largely thanks to Ennio Morricone, whose prolificness and talent has been showcased in hundreds of films over the years. And I’m talking about my favorite piece of his—one of my favorite pieces of film music period, ‘The Ecstasy of Gold’. You’ve got an amazing chorus that builds beyond the angelic, you’ve got a crescendo that steps up things even further as strings kick in—and when you see Tuco running across hundreds of graves with his bounty just in reach, it makes something mundane into the incredible.
This, for me, is an apex example of the pure power of the moving image combined with music that only the best cinema can provide. I’ve heard very solid arguments to me from those that prefer the theme from ‘For A Few Dollars More’—but still, far as I'm concerned this is Morricone’s best. Not for no reason does Metallica use ‘Ecstasy’ to open their concerts, as I’ve experienced to its awesome effect—and it’s because of this I do recommend a cinema viewing of this at least once. If that doesn’t give you shivers on listening with a full surround system, then I suggest you check your pulse.
The climax continues to only get better from there—with a showdown communicated almost entirely by closeups of eyes, augmented by an unrelenting score even further. It’s the perfect way to close out a rather epic odyssey, and those final shots leave me with the best kind of satisfied grin. While some segments in the film are weaker than others, this final part is absolute perfection.
That, for me, is why this one remains a classic that holds up just fine for me. With there being no shortage of grimmer and grittier westerns since, perhaps its impact is lessened from what it was—but its best parts remain masterworks of image and sounds combined, and ones that rightfully remain well-studied. I leave you with this amazing rendition of the film’s suite from the Danish National Orchestra, which proves that real triumphs never go out of style:
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