He walked like no man on earth
I swear he had no name
I swear he had no name.”
- The Alarm, “The Stand”
I would venture to say that if there is one film icon that is representative of the 60s, after James Bond, it would be Clint Eastwood’s “Man with No Name.” This mysterious figure redefined Westerns for the entire hemisphere, becoming a symbol of stoic bravado, silent strength, and restrained toughness. His look is now infamous, with the wide, flat brimmed hat, the Spanish poncho and black jeans. It is so infamous that I would dare say that his image pops into many people’s minds upon hearing the word, “Western.” Director Sergio Leone originally meant to revolutionize the genre in Italy, having been disappointed with its representation in his home country, but ended up revolutionizing not only the genre as a whole, but also filmmaking in its entirety. These three films alone have had long lasting effects that are still felt today, with techniques, homage, and references dotting the filmic landscape.
Per un Pugno di Dollare (A Fistful of Dollars) (1964, Sergio Leone)
I had seen these films as a child, as my father was fond of Westerns, but I hadn’t remembered them as well as I would have liked. When I revisited them for this project, I saw them in reverse order, with Fistful as the final one viewed. It doesn’t seem to matter. These do not form a trilogy in the sense that we view them today, as a three-part, serialized story. These are not necessarily connected. While Clint Eastwood could be playing the same no-named character throughout the three films, there is nothing within the film to signal this continuity (though some have tried; we’ll get into that). Instead, Clint Eastwood’s character is an archetype, representing a particular symbol of a character. That hasn’t stopped many fans from trying to reorder the films to figure out a continuity that would fit both Eastwood’s look and motivations. If those people are right, I actually viewed it in their preferred order, with Fistful representing the final incarnation of the man with no name.
A Fistful of Dollars is, in actuality, as close to a shot-for-shot remake of Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo as you could get. In fact, Akira Kurosawa wrote to Leone, after seeing the film, “It is a very fine film, but it is my film.” Of course, remakes such as this are common these days, but none done as appropriately as this one. Whether you see samurais as cowboys of the east, or cowboys as samurais of the west, we can agree that the two are somewhat synonymous, and merely different indicators of the same archetype. If we are to believe the “retconners,” the man with no name has turned from con man / outlaw, to bounty hunter, and now has enough money to merely wander from town to town, finding amusement where he can. I’m not sure if I buy it, but there is certainly a kind of sado-masochistic streak behind Eastwood’s mysterious motivations. There seems to be very little reason for him to wedge himself between the two sides in San Miguel, other than to exploit the situation for money, which puts a wrench in the retcon theory.
The story of Yojimbo, A Fistful of Dollars, Red Harvest, and every other property associated with this constant stream of make and remake is the same, involving a small town with two warring factions and an outsider who arrives and takes advantage of the situation. What sets this adaptation apart from the rest are Leone’s directorial choices, Eastwood’s manner and dialogue, and a few iconic scenes that have since been recreated numerous times. Everyone who grew up in the 80s is likely to recognize the duel with an armored plate as protection having been co-opted for Back to the Future III. Quentin Tarantino has certainly been influenced by the music and visual style for Kill Bill. And if you were to tell me that George Lucas had not modeled Salacious Crumb after the braying Rojo gang member in the scene where Eastwood is beaten up, I’d be more than surprised. Jeremy Bulloch has been said to have based his portrayal of Boba Fett on Eastwood’s character in this particular film. On the visual front, Leone, according to legend, either knew nothing about how traditional Westerns were shot or knowingly chose to ignore these traditions, and thus shot certain duels or shooting scenes from over Eastwood’s shoulder, something that was not common practice. The look of Fistful is more akin to David Lean’s epics than of traditional Westerns, capturing the expansive landscapes, which captured the look of the 19th century western United States, despite having been shot in Spain.
Clint Eastwood cemented himself in film history with A Fistful of Dollars, and had he never made another movie after this trilogy, would most likely still be well remembered. His slit-eyed, weathered face was enough to create an archetype, with Leone saying that he had two facial expressions, one with his hat on, and one without. Though certainly not his first film, this was Eastwood’s breakout starring role. Eastwood was more known as Rowdy Yates, a “white hat” good guy, in the television show Rawhide. Seeking to change his image, he accepted the role of “Joe,” one of the different placeholder monikers for the man with no name. I’m not sure he realized just how indelibly it would change that image. As this character, Eastwood found his perfect niche, able to blend stoicism and dark humor into a morally ambiguous, yet admirable antihero. “Joe” comes in looking to exploit, but as we have seen in current shows such as Dexter, does an exploiter of the exploiting become righteous? As he walks through town, passing the undertaker on his way to display his mettle, he says, “Get three coffins ready.” On his way back, after having killed four men, he says, “My mistake…four coffins.” Yet, despite his displayed greed and violence, upon learning of the situation involving the young damsel Marisol and her husband, he rescues her and sends the family on their way with some money for the journey out of town.
Per Qualche Dollare in Più (For a Few Dollars More) (1965, Sergio Leone)
In A Fistful of Dollars, the man with no name is heard saying, “When a man’s got money in his pocket, he begins to appreciate peace.” I’ll avoid getting political, as I often tend to do, and instead remark that throughout these films, money is often the motivator for violence, making this statement highly profound. In this film, released one year after its predecessor in Italy, but a few months after in the U.S. (every film in the trilogy was released in 1967 in America), Eastwood plays Manco, which is not so much a name as it is a description, being a Spanish or Portuguese word that could alternately mean “one-armed” or “hand cripple.” In effect, he is given this name as he uses his left hand for everything including drinking, picking up cards, lighting his cigar, and more, while his right hand always stays under his serape, ready to draw his gun at a moment’s notice. Additionally, he wears a leather wrist brace on his right arm. As opposed to a wandering opportunist, Manco has an agenda in this “sequel.” He is a bounty killer, hunting down outlaws for money, pitted against his equal in the field, the ruthless Colonel Douglas Mortimer, as played by Lee Van Cleef.
Not only does this film up the ante in drama, but also in filmmaking techniques and overall style. Take one look at a scene in which Mortimer stares at a wanted poster of El Indio, with quickly alternating closeups of the Van Cleef and the poster, highlighted with the sound of gunshots and you can see what I mean. Even Ennio Morricone’s score, though memorable in Fistful, is even more dramatic here, with one example being the duel between El Indio and the man who turned him in to the authorities. Mortimer is magnificently set up as a possible antagonist to Manco, given his own mannerisms, devices, and mystery. In one of the first duels we see him enter, he reveals an impressive array of weaponry in the gun roll on his horse. Included in that array is a long barreled pistol with an attachable rifle stock, an odd contraption that Manco later uses as an object of humor. Everything in the early parts of the film seems to set the two main characters up as adversaries, but a fantastic scene involving the shooting of hats, with over-the-top sound effects, has them respecting each other and collaborating to hunt down El Indio.
Eventually, we see Manco and Mortimer as perhaps two sides of the same coin, both with the same end goal, but with different motivations. Both are men with very few words, instead often choosing to allow their actions to speak for them, but when they do speak, it is often menacing and to the point. For instance, when Manco interrupts a poker game and plays one hand, beating the man he’s looking for, he is prompted with “I didn’t hear what the bet was.” Manco’s short answer comes, “Your life.” A musical stopwatch plays a key part throughout film, leading up to a meaningful revelation at the end of the film. We also see that the man with no name’s humor is still intact as he counts up the bounty as represented by dead bodies in the back of his wagon, realizing it isn’t adding up, shooting a sneaking bandit behind him in nonchalant fashion, and then answering a questioning Mortimer with, “Thought I was having trouble with my adding. It’s all right now.”
Il Buono, Il Brutto, Il Cattivo (The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) (1966, Sergio Leone)
Whereas Fistful centered on one character with many secondary figures and For a Few Dollars More added a worthy foil and partner for Eastwood, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, as the title suggests, ups the dynamic to a trio. We are introduced to the ugly first, a man by the name of Tuco, played magnificently by the versatile Eli Wallach. We first hear the sound of dogs howling, a sound that is mimicked by the now famous strains of the Ennio Morricone theme. Tuco is ambushed by three bounty hunters, but manages to kill all three, or so we assume. With his introduction, we also get to see a new style addition from Leone, that of the superimposed titles over freeze-frames. Next, we are introduced to the bad, marking the return of Lee Van Cleef, this time as “Angel Eyes,” whose presence would again spoil the theories of the retcon faction. He sits at a table eating with an unnamed old man. It is difficult to tell just what they are eating, but it looks like jalapeños, which, if so, would completely change the tone and threat level of the scene. Angel Eyes eventually shoots his companion under the table, a scene that surely influenced the now infamous Han Solo / Greedo scene in the cantina. Finally, we are introduced to the good, our man with no name, the badass of all badasses, revealed to be running bounty schemes with Tuco. Once again, Eastwood is given a nickname as opposed to a real name, staying in line with the other films, this time appearing as “Blondie.”
In saving Tuco from the noose, however, Blondie doesn’t have to kill anyone, rather shooting the rope to free his partner, then shooting the hats off of the lawmen to scare them away from retaliation. Early on, Blondie severs his ties with Tuco, creating an adversarial relationship that lasts throughout the rest of the film. They alternately get the upper hand on each other with each outlaw’s life saved through happenstance and fortune. One darkly funny moment has Blondie trying out his bounty scheme with another partner, named “Shorty,” but interrupted by Tuco, forcing a situation that leaves the new partner to die, and Blondie coldly remarking, “Sorry, Shorty.” The film is set against the backdrop of the Civil War, and is meant to be a larger commentary on the folly of war in general. The three characters are in search of a stash of Confederate gold that is rumored to be hidden somewhere. As the three main characters hunt down clues, the Civil War rages around them in the background, and sometimes they get caught up in it. One hilarious scene has Tuco and Blondie driving a coach through the landscape when they come upon a group of grey-suited soldiers. Eager to avoid trouble, Tuco starts shouting, “Hurrah for the Confederacy!” and a series of other remarks meant to endear them to the approaching soldiers. Of course, as they get near, the lead soldier brushes the dust off his uniform to reveal it as blue Union garb. Blondie makes the most profound statement about the war, revealing Leone’s moralistic intent, as he says, “I’ve never seen so many men wasted so badly.”
Just as with the previous two films, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is a triumph in style and dramatic action. Though some claim it to be overlong, I would say that every scene is meaningful and gorgeously shot. The plot is intricately woven, with characters interweaving and finding each other again and again through cleverly laid clues and circumstance. Each character, though morally flawed, is smart, with each one getting the upper hand on another in equal measure. This, of course, sets up with the memorable three-way duel at the end of the film, itself a masterpiece of filmmaking. Just before the final duel, Blondie dons a serape for the first time, taken off of the body of a dead soldier, fueling much of the retcon speculation as the Eastwood character wears the trademark serape from the beginning throughout the other two films. This film, and the other two as I’ve mentioned previously, have influenced other films, and not just Westerns, for generations. Stephen King’s Gunslinger in the Dark Tower series is notoriously based on Clint Eastwood’s man with no name character and the Man in Black is possibly based on Lee Van Cleef’s characters. The video game, Red Dead Redemption, lovingly bases most of its gameplay and design from all three films. Whereas the 40s and 50s may have portrayed John Wayne as the archetype hero in its representation of the Western hero, Leone and Eastwood upended that stereotype and put a new archetype in its place, the stoic antihero, the Man with No Name.
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