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Once Upon a Time in the West

The Western is as prototypically an American genre as the Samurai film is a Japanese one. Yet the most universally revered Western is probably “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” directed by the Italian master Sergio Leone. A loose sequel to “A Fistful of Dollars” and “For a Few Dollars More,” the two films that helped launch Clint Eastwood’s career, “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” is about as epic and iconic as movies can get. It closed out the “Man With No Name” trilogy with a Mexican standoff that ranks among the greatest scenes in cinematic history, but presented a bold challenge for Leone: what to do next?

1968’s big-budget, operatic “Once Upon a Time in the West” was supposed to be Leone’s ultimate testament to the genre, a bridging of his grungy violence with the traditional romanticism of a Hollywood Western. Alas, it was butchered by Paramount and shortened from its nearly three-hour running time to fit in more shows during the day, and the resulting mess didn’t play all that well with critics or audiences at the time. But thanks to DVD the 165-minute cut is available, and many claim it is Leone’s greatest film. I would beg to differ-–“The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” is, in my book, just about unbeatable for any genre-–but “Once Upon a Time in the West” is still certainly one of the best Westerns ever made.

The plot is more complex than most Leone films (save for “Once Upon a Time in America,” of course) and many sequences seem odd and perplexing until we get context for them later in the story, but that hardly matters. “Once Upon a Time in the West” is such a masterpiece of tone and style that it is possible to get yourself immersed into it without quite knowing what all is going on. For example, the celebrated 10-minute opening scene is a perfectly constructed, superb sequence that builds almost unbearable suspense despite the fact that we don’t even know what’s coming. Three gunmen, bored out of their minds, wait around for a train to arrive. One fidgets and plays with a bothersome fly, another lets dripping water collect in the brim of his hat; nothing of consequence happens, and we don’t know what they’re waiting for, but the tension is palpable. Something is going to happen. And then, in a few brief seconds, Harmonica (Charles Bronson) steps out of the train and quickly guns the men down.

In many ways this is the defining sequence of the film, but we don’t know why until almost an hour later. Similarly when we see a man and his family (including his young, redheaded son) get viciously mowed down by a gang of thugs led by Frank (Henry Fonda) it isn’t clear why this occurred until much later. But, that particular sequence is a visceral thrill because it gives Fonda his most memorable entrance in any film. Although the shock of this may fade years from now as Fonda’s good-guy image won’t have as much resonance for future audiences. The sheer ballsiness of this scene will still linger (how many movies today could get away with a major movie star shooting a child in cold blood?).

The central figure of the film is not Harmonica or Frank, however, it’s Jill McBain (the amazingly gorgeous Claudia Cardinale), the widow of the man who Frank and his men murdered. She arrives in town from New Orleans to discover the townspeople all huddled around the corpses of her new family. At various points, she encounters the mysterious Harmonica, who she is attracted to, and the surprisingly gregarious outlaw Cheyanne (Jason Robards), who would probably be a better match for her. But then again everyone in a Leone film has his or her own agenda so any romance plays second fiddle to revenge, greed, etc.

Also, as in any vintage Leone epic, style has a way of trumping substance. This is mostly excusable since the swooping vistas, grand character entrances, and brilliant Ennio Morricone score are so sumptuous, but some plot details could have been tightened up. The entire first half is such an impeccable set-up to a spectacular finale that never quite comes-–the last duel is suitably cool and well-paced, but then Leone adds a number of unnecessary scenes after it-–that you can’t help but feel slightly disappointed when it doesn’t deliver on its promise. Some of it is even downright sloppy and disjointed; for example, one major scene is inexplicably out of chronological order.

Most of this can be overlooked thanks to a top-form Morricone and a fine cast. Cardinale doesn’t have that much to do, but she is breathtakingly beautiful and photographed well, and Bronson does the whole laconic man-with-a-past thing convincingly. Fonda and Robards run away with the movie and every time they’re not onscreen you anticipate their next arrival. Leone knows how to use each and every one of them (after all, he wanted to work with Fonda and Bronson his entire career) to maximum effect, and the result is another one of the greatest Westerns in existence.

If you can’t stand a deliberate pace or a few maddening flaws you might not love this film as much as most do, but there’s something for nearly everyone in it. Few films are more rapturous or fun. If you share Leone’s love of the cinema, you’ll savor every one of these 165 minutes. Even if “Once Upon a Time in the West” isn’t the best work Leone has ever done it definitely ranks up there.

Written by: Joe Pudas

Reviewers Rating: 9
Reader's Rating: 10.00
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