Once Upon A Time In The West

Yesterday, I watched "Once Upon a Time in the West" for the umpteenth time, but for the first time on the big screen where it belongs. What follows is a love letter to the movie and to Leone and Morricone in general.
I remember I was still in elementary school when my older cousins rented "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" on videotape, and we watched it every afternoon that summer. The movie took on mythical proportions, followed by the rest of the trilogy. The Man with No Name became my hero, Morricone's "cowboy" music played on worn-out tapes, and we quoted lines at every opportunity. There are still some very old videos on YouTube where my friends and I reenact scenes from the trilogy.
The two "Once Upon a Time" films (West/America) came a bit later, and especially the latter went straight to my favorites, given its mafia theme. However, as I grow older, I understand why "West" is considered Leone's masterpiece. In my own ranking, it has surpassed "America," and only sentimental reasons keep it below "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."
Surely, the latter is one of the most entertaining movies ever made. You can finish it and immediately want to watch it again with the same excitement as if it were the first time. "West" doesn't have that. It has very slow shots, long silences, Morricone's incomparable music dressing every scene, and a heavy focus on the plot. And this last aspect is what sets it apart from the Eastwood trilogy.
At first glance, it is a simple revenge story. The protagonist seeks to kill the villain because he killed his brother in a chillingly sadistic way, shown in a flashback (a scene anthologized for its setup, music, settings, and rhythm). However, the second reading is the primary one: the creators place the events at the end of the Wild West, just before the arrival of civilization from the East. The train is feverishly preparing to connect the two oceans, the old world is dying, and a new, brave, and technological one is on the horizon. And there lies the crux of the film.
The antagonist is an old gunslinger (a sublime Henry Fonda in a counter-role), a relic of another era trying to modernize at the end of his life. He avoids killings and tries diplomacy but fails miserably as his own henchmen betray him. He accepts this, knowing he cannot live as long as someone wants to kill him without knowing who he is; he must find out, even if it costs him his life. "As a Judgement" begins, focusing on the black-clad rider going to meet his fate—another anthologized scene.
In contrast, the protagonist knows that his time has passed and refuses to settle down with Cardinale in the town being built. He parts with the harmonica, his trademark in the film and a memento of his brother's death, and, losing perhaps the only friend he has ever made (a delightful Jason Robards who easily steals the show), he leaves alone as is his way.
However, perhaps the most tragic figure is Morton, and probably the most crucial character in the film. He embodies progress at any cost. He will order intimidation, usurp others' land, bribe whoever he can—anything to see his trains reach the sea. Deliberately crippled, I believe, to elicit the viewer's pity, he certainly provokes Fonda's pity, who leaves him to die face down in the filthy water, like the worm he considered him. A pathetic death, his motives unclear, the symbolism obvious: Leone despises this kind of man, looks nostalgically at that wild pioneer era, but knows that progress must come. It's no coincidence that he has this vile man kill the most likable character in the work.
Ultimately, the only winner in the film is the woman, Cardinale. A former prostitute who decides to marry the kind red-headed Irishman, she ends up a widow owning an entire town destined to flourish. What an incredible shot the closing of the film is, with her offering water to the thirsty workers, how melancholic and heartbreaking her musical theme is—what did you create, Leone and Morricone!

I wonder if the coming generation, accustomed to permanently fast-paced rhythms, can appreciate such an elegiac film. IMDb suggests they can, but I am pessimistic; for example, "Vertigo" is constantly dropping in popularity. Such works require patience and multiple viewings, but the reward is immense.

Posted Using InLeo Alpha