As cool as a Fruitstand

"How's your mother?"
"Oh...I'm afraid she's on her way out."
"We all are. Act accordingly."

I liked this film a lot better the second time around, to be honest. Don't get me wrong, I liked it the first time around too, but I thought it was a little too detached, too cold. Somehow that bothered me less this time. It's quite a focussed, fast picture, a lesson in how to cut the fat without skimping on the details that make a story, and in particular characters, work. It's not subtle in any sense of the word, but it is effective: every detail we're supposed to notice is zoomed in on for a partial second, long enough so we see it but short enough not to hit you over the head with it. The quote above is just a throwaway line, but it summarizes the spirit of the movie perfectly, just like Sullivan's "Okay" just before he, too, goes with a spray of blood.

I know, I know, after railing about the Brave One, how can I endorse this film's all-too-obvious symbolisms and dualities/doublings? Well, maybe because Scorsese doesn't pretend, for all of his flourishes, that this is a crime movie, a movie meant to entertain first and foremost. Also, maybe, because the ending here is honest, more than many other movies of its kind, while the ending of the Brave One is flabbergastingly offensive.

One small quibble: my mother commented in the many fucks in the film. No, I don't mind the word myself, and I think it's a valid - and sometimes very effective - stylistic tool. It can really tell you something about a character, or a milieu. In this film though, I believe it's overused, not so much in quantity (237 fucks, google tells me), but because everyone uses it equally and in the same way, with the exception of Queenan and the shrink (Vera Farmiga, incidentally, it an actress I'm fascinated by). Only Alec Baldwin and Mark Wahlberg manage to infuse something of their characters in the word, and first scene together is priceless for it: but this is not so much because of the f-word but because their profanity is so creative. The use of **** by the two rats starts feeling old pretty soon.

Oh well. If you can't get enough of the word, you can always check out my post on the Big Lebowski. Or, of course, watch what's below.


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Craig guessed it, so here goes...

We see a desert. Sand, mostly. Then, all of a sudden, our eyes jump from background to close-up as one of the ugliest faces you've probably seen slides into the frame from the side. Later in the scene, a man jumps out of a broken window, meat in hand.

Later, a boy is getting water from a well when, with ominous Morricone music playing, a small dot appears on the horizon, and gets bigger and bigger as it approaches. The boy runs inside. A man appears in the doorway, walks in, eats some food.

Once upon a time in the West is the film most often regarded as a masterpiece, and when people talk about it one of the things they mention is the opening scene, and how long it takes before the first word is spoken. Once upon a time was clearly meant to be a masterpiece, but I think that the less serious-minded The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is the real masterpiece. Here also, it takes forever for the first word to be spoken: Leone always was a visceral, visual director,

For every good scene in Once upon a time I can easily think of a similar, better one in GBU, as I'll call it from now on. Take the introduction of Henry Fonda as the villain: it's great, absolutely, but does it rival the gradual reveal of Blondie? First we see his hat, his gun, his hands, we hear his sarcastig voice and then finally, see his face. The hanging scene? I'll grant that it's more poignant than anything in GBA, but it's not by far as funny as the successive hangings here, and there's no rivaling the last one for an ending.

Finally, I think GBA is more succesful because its morality is more muddled, less black and white. "the Good" really isn't all that much better than Angel Eyes, "the Bad", maybe just a little more compassionate, and I've always thought Tuco, "the Ugly", is the heart of the film. His scene with his brother is amazing, and his love/hate relationship with Blondie anchors the film, makes it about more than just three men who want money. Also here, it's not words that express it, but imaged: Blondie finally handing Tuco his cigar. Muddying the moral waters even more is the cival war, which suddenly makes what three men do so much less important. The scene jars a little with the rest of the film, but I love it, and I think it's what Blondie and Tuco do for the general that redeems them.

This film is 3 hours long, but that fact still surprises me, because while this is a deliberate movie, it never feels slow or long, and when I watch it time flies. The plot is intricate, but easy to follow, and the power keeps shifting: who has the information, who has the gun, who has the upper hand?

You can't talk about Leone's spaghetti westerns, of course, without mentioning Morricone. The score is amazing, and integral to the feel of the movie, to its texture. Just listening to the music brings back images. The amazing opening titles. The scorching sun. Weathered faces. And, of course, close-ups of eyes, tense and prepared, waiting for the guns to go off.

Recently, my love for and knowledge of westerns was called into question. My gender was the main reason, the guy even admitted to it. But I dare anyone to say now that I don't love westerns. I'm seeing The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford on Monday, and I can hardly wait.

Next up: a movie named for two guys which really is all about a girl...
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