the art of a good western
they don't make 'em like they used to.
they really don't. catching up with 3:10 to Yuma i was reminded of how much i love this, for all intents and purposes, dead genre. they were churning them fast and furiously right through into the 60s. and then something changed. it was high noon for our gun-slingers. yeah, sure i love the shaghetti westerns, eastwood's foray into the avenging angel territory as the man without a name. but somehow, i miss the all-american quality of that earlier time. i miss ethan edwards. that misogynist and racist. the ultimate anti-hero. ultimately, the most satisfying.
2 comments:
I am so with you. After a childhood in which I endured countless Westerns as a result of my father's obsession (and strict control of which channel was to be watched on our sole tv), I hated them. But then, a few years back, after an accidental re-viewing of "Red River" in which I watched in awe as Montgomery Clift and John Ireland compared the heft and weight of their respective "weapons" (fnar fnar) in this great Oedipal drama, I rediscovered the pleasures of the genre. And since then I've been an addict.
not to mention the very serious homeroticism present in that very film you mentioned...
which brings me to monty...my love for him knows no bounds....
Post a Comment