As a proud Canadian, I have this insatiable appetite for attempting to understand the restless beast that is America. The Western film is a brilliant window through which we come to define America as a myth and as a concept. And every director gives us a new perspective that corroborates some form of truth about that myth. But I’d wager most people grew up with associating the western with a certain level of cheese. After all, a lot of the early work in Westerns were so damn romantic that they were borderline propaganda. I enjoy some of those films. But I can’t help but feel there’s so much more to sink your teeth into when it comes to films that are critical of the States. Sergio Leone, in particular, seems to have mastered the morality of America.  I get positively gleeful when I recall the scene in Leone’s Duck, You Sucker! where the rich, white folks horrifically devour their food in ultra-close-up. I can’t help but think; “how painfully accurate.” Leone’s 1968 epic masterpiece, Once Upon a Time in the West, is one of those films that I’ve found joy in returning to time and time again. To begin with there’s a certain level of film-nerd excitement over a story written by Leone, Dario Argento *and* Bernardo Bertolucci. This is a fantastic, sprawling story that must be experienced once and should be one of those films that I discussed in The American debrief that can teach you something new with each new screening. If you’ve seen … in the West before, this week is the perfect opportunity to revisit it.

The first two scenes in themselves are brilliant short films. That fly in the High Noon inspired opening sequence is iconic. The power of acting is showcased in the volumes that are communicated non-verbally in those first two scenes. Even with such a short screenplay, this epic clocks in at over two and a half hours – the magic is found in how much is said using the physicality of the actors and smart editing. Brett McBain is an Irishman who has raised his family on a stretch of land that he had the foresight to see would become a bustling town. The railway businessman who understands the value of the land hires a cold-blooded gunman (Henry Fonda) to intimidate McBain, but Fonda’s character, Frank, goes too far and outright slays McBain and his children. It turns out McBain married a woman, Jill (Claudio Cardinale), a few months prior in New Orleans and she arrives on his property just as the nearby town prepares his burial.  In a collision of many subplots, two outlaws, Harmonica and Cheyenne (Charles Bronson and Jason Robards), attempt to use Jill in an attempt to get what they want out of the value of the McBain property. Jill, Harmonica and Cheyenne battle each other in one way or another, but all face the ever-present, unstable Frank.

There is a joy in seeing an actor cast against type. This draws on a power that exceeds the world of the film. This is where that world from Smash His Camera comes into play – All the preconceptions and defined memories, fleeting moments and gut reactions you have, personally, about who a certain actor is are put into play. As a society, we are shook when the actor who, always the clear-cut good guy, shows us a ruthless and deplorable character. Denzel doesn’t get an Oscar for his flooring performance in Malcolm X, but he does for Training Day. We can’t get enough of that hero who shows some cracks. This is the power behind Henry Fonda as the twisted Frank.

The allure of the western film undoubtedly has something to do with the exploration of morality and human nature; the dynamic relationship between the physical landscape, the social landscape and human behaviour. This is the moment for audience introspection – are you more Harmonica, Cheyenne or Frank? And just how different are these men? How vast or shallow is the spectrum between angel and devil? All westerns, both made by Americans and non-Americans, like the spaghetti westerns that bore Leone, challenge us in this way. Even the best modern westerns show the undeniable hardness of the land and how that hardness shapes the people fighting for their lives. America the Brave? Perhaps. But it’s just as much America the Merciless. Now it’s up to you to decide whether this should be celebrated. Then there is Jill, the embodiment of hope. What should we make of Jill’s character arc? Or her relationship with Frank, Cheyenne and Harmonica? I’d argue this is Leone’s grim outlook on the American as a race, or perhaps all of humankind.

It’s been so long that I can’t recall where I read it (or I’d give them credit) but it was an interview with Leone about his use of the ultra-close-up ; how it speaks to the infinite amount each of us reads into something as simple yet endlessly complex as the human face. The eyes, the mouth, the falling of wrinkles over bones – we judge others on intuition because our survival depends on it. Each ultra-close-up (and there are many), with so many crevices to explore, is a feast for the audience’s eyes. When I watch Leone, I can’t help but think of the RZA’s line from the GZA’s 4th Chamber “you can see the weakness of a man right through his iris.”


(Tangent: I can’t wait to see someone create a truly profound modern western using a hip hop-only soundtrack. There’s something about the observational power of that defines many of the genre’s best lyricists that would help paint a story for the times) It’s foolish to discuss a Sergio Leone film without mentioning the genius of Ennio Morricone. Among many of Leone’s pieces, West was scored by the master of film scores, Ennio Morricone. Morricone’s use of the leitmotif for the main characters and his soaring main theme give the film even more depth. Close your eyes and let the music do the talking on one of your repeat viewings of this film. If you’re interested in a different perspective on Morricone, check out Yo Yo Ma Plays Ennio Morricone.