The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2021: Once Upon a Time in the West (1968), directed by Sergio Leone

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune - "Once Upon a Time in the West" by the Danish National Symphony Orchestra and Tuva Semmingsen

       Cultural intermingling is about as common as the tides, and it’s about as obvious as the tides when it comes to film. Hollywood’s film noir craze in the 40s and 50’s were inspired by the German expressionist films of the 20’s, the films of directors like Martin Scorsese and Monte Hellman have their roots in the French New Wave, and then of course you have the spaghetti westerns. While originally used as a derogatory term by critics, these were films directed, crewed and produced in Italy and Italians obviously love spaghetti, the spaghetti western has gone on to subsume the concept of westerns in the public consciousness. I mean picture the quintessential Wild West gunslinger in your head and chances are he’s gonna be a lot closer to Clint ‘Chair Talker’ Eastwood than ol’ John ‘The Indians deserved it’ Wayne, and when westerns tropes are referenced in modern works it is more likely going to be from something like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly than it is Angel & the Badman. Whether spaghetti westerns are out and out better than the old American western isn’t really a question worth answering, there are plenty of classic American westerns just as there are plenty of shoddily made Italian westerns, but there is a distinct difference between the two and that is in their tone. The Italian’s depiction of the American West is gritty; It’s a morally gray world where good people die for nothing and the only common language is the one that comes out of the barrel of a gun. Compared to the squeaky clean, white hat versus black hat, occasionally jingoistic image of the old western the spaghetti western seemed more visceral, more relatable, especially to an American audience that was hurtling towards the Vietnam War and everything that followed. Westerns still faded away in the end sure, but it can’t be denied that those films and those directors gave that genre a level of critical and commercial acclaim that it hadn’t experienced in years, and arguably is the main reason that the genre hasn’t just faded into complete irrelevancy.

       The man credited with the creation of spaghetti western is also the most famous director of spaghetti westerns: Sergio Leone. Entering the world of show business back in 1941 with a small role in Roberto Roberti’s The Man on the Street, Leone worked for several years as an assistant director and second unit director before finally making his debut in 1961 with The Colossus of Rhodes. Three years later he would turn in his sword and sandals for leather chaps and revolvers in A Fistful of Dollars, and the rest is history. It’s a bit sad that a director as influential as Leone wasn’t more prolific, he only directed 7 films before his death in 1989 with over a decade long gap between Duck, You Sucker! in 1971 and his final film, Once Upon a Time in America in 1984, but if you’ve got to choose between quality and quantity then Leone chose quality. Years ago I wrote about The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, a film which many consider one of the greatest westerns of all time, and so to kick off Long Dark Marathon of the Soul ‘21’s international top 10, why not return to Leone and cover the other greatest western of all time? I mean 80 percent of the Marathon this year is already returning names, what’s one more on the pile right??

       Released in 1968, Once Upon a Time in the West was written by Sergio Leone and Sergio Donati with story by Sergio Leone, Bernardo Bertolucci and Dario Argento, directed by Sergio Leone and produced by Fulvio Morsella through Rafran Cinematografica. Once upon a time in the West, a man carrying a harmonica, known only as Harmonica (Charles Bronson) arrived at a little town named Flagstone, looking for another man named Frank (Henry Fonda). Frank wasn’t there to meet him however, as he and his friends were busy murdering a family named the McBains and framing a local outlaw named Cheyenne (Jason Robards) for the crime . He and his outlaw gang were working for a railroad tycoon by the name of Morton you see, and that delicious McBain land is right in the middle of some prime locomotive territory. Later that same day, a woman arrived in town and revealed herself to be Jill McBain (Claudia Cardinale), the secret wife of patriarch Brett McBain who had arrived just in time to find her new family massacred. Thus we see a tangled web is weaved; Harmonica wants Frank, Morton wants the land, Frank wants power, Cheyenne wants money (and a little bit of Jill), and Jill is the center of it all. All it takes is one good shake and everything will come loose, with explosive results.

       With a name like that you’d think the movie would be more fantastical, but at the same time I can’t think of a better name for this film. Leone’s westerns prior to this had a storybook element to them; The gunslinger with no name who arrives in town and saves it from outlaws in Fistful of Dollars or the odyssey the Tuco and Blondie embark on to find the hidden treasure in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. We see it here as well with the character of Harmonica and his role in the story, but where those previous films used the western as more of an aesthetic choice (literally in the case of Fistful of Dollars, as it was based on Kurosawa’s Yojimbo), Once Upon a Time in the West is intimately connected with its setting. The entire film is built around the expansion of the United States through the railroad after all, its populated by a veritable melting pot of people, black, white, Chinese, Mexican, Native American, which runs parallel to Harmonica’s quest to kill Frank. The inevitable march of time and progress, represented by the railroad, which sweeps away the remnants of the past, represented by the outlaws and gunslingers like Cheyenne and Frank. Once Upon a Time in the West has a storybook style name because like storybooks it has a definitive ending, for the film and in a grander sense for the ‘Wild West’. Leone would go on to direct, write and produce other movies in the genre in the years following the release of this film, but Once Upon a Time in the West does have this air of finality to it that you could easily see it as the end of the western movie.

       It’s almost not worth mentioning the cinematography in this case, because we all know the Sergio Leone style by now: wide angle shots of the landscape paired with close focus shots on people’s faces, and hold for a couple glacial seconds. Which of course works because the scenery is fucking beautiful and the close-ups are connected to some of the most intense scenes in the film. Sergio jumps out of the gate with it too, with Frank’s men waiting at the train station to kill the man who turns out to be Harmonica. Three men just sitting at this train station in the middle of nowhere, ill intent marked clear on their faces, and the tension builds and builds until the train and Harmonica is introduced. Even though they break that atmosphere somewhat with some silliness, it’s a textbook example of the visual power the director wields. I also liked the scene with Cheyenne taking out Frank’s men from on top of a moving train; While not as dynamic as modern action set pieces it is a change of pace from the normal western gunfights, and does aid in the presentation of this film as an epic.

       As far the cast goes, it’s solid. While Charles Bronson doesn’t cut the same figure as Clint Eastwood (although ironically Bronson was offered the lead role in all the Leone westerns that Eastwood would later star in), like Eastwood he does have this quiet machismo about him that conveys the idea of Harmonica as this enigmatic, deadly figure. Henry Fonda is great as the villainous outlaw Frank; A man who puts on airs of power and class but at heart is just a killer, and one who loves doing it. Jason Robards does a fine job as Cheyenne, a foil to Harmonica who eventually grows to be the secondary protagonist almost, although much like Bronson compared to Eastwood I don’t think he leaves as strong an impression as Eli Wallach did a few years earlier. Neither does Claudia Cardinale if I’m being honest; One look at her and you can tell why she was the most popular actress in Italy at the time, but I could never get a feel for her character. For a while I thought there was going to be a twist where she turned out to be a con artist looking to scam the McBains, because there were a couple scenes that seemed to suggest as much, but then nothing came of it and she just becomes a character that reacts to other characters doing things, which is never an ideal position.

         Next we arrive at the music, composed by Ennio Morricone, king of the spaghetti western scores, and I’m surprised to say that it’s a mixed bag. When it hits like in the final duel it’s overwhelming, an explosion of raw emotion in the form of noise that elevates that scene to high art, and when it doesn’t it stumbles off a cliff. There’s this one little bit of music that has a bit of a cantering cadence, I don’t know if you’d call it a leitmotif or not, that keeps appearing in the film. From the sound of it you’d think it’s for the background of the sillier moments, but then it shows up for scenes that are dead serious and it’s tonally dissonant. Not to mention the soft and sensual music for what is, in essence, a rape scene, I don’t really get the logic there. Ennio Morricone is a legend in the world of film and rightfully so, but if you’re coming into this expecting the Moricone that everyone knows from pop culture then you’ll probably be out of luck.

       I guess that’s the biggest takeaway from watching Once Upon a Time in the West. It’s a great film to watch, with deep characters and a story that it is both personal and grandiose, but as I’m writing about it I keep coming back to The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. It’s impossible not to, as Good, Bad, and the Ugly is the quintessential western. It’s got the iconic scenes, iconic characters, iconic music, it’s a successful film on all levels. Once Upon a Time in the West falls short not because it’s necessarily a worse film, but because it doesn’t compel you to revisit it the same way that GBU does. You see it, you feel it and you move on. Whereas with GBU just writing about it has given me the urge to rewatch it. 

       The operative words here are ‘you see it’. Once Upon a Time in the West is 100 percent recommended, but not quite a ‘turn off this computer and go see it now!’ kind of film. If you’ve slept on Leone and/or spaghetti westerns prior to this, then watch Fistful of Dollars, watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, watch The Wild Bunch and The Magnificent Seven and all those Django and Sartana movies, and when you feel up to it pop in Once Upon a Time in the West. It’s the last western, thematically at least, and that’s how it deserves to be seen.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2017 - Witchfinder General (1968), directed by Michael Reeves

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Witchfinder General", by Witchfinder General

     Grab any newspaper, or more recently a webpage from a news site, and you’ll find stories that are far worse than any horror movie you’ve seen before. Ghosts and vampires and space aliens are certainly spooky, but the fact of the matter is that they’re fictional, i.e. not real. Our fellow human beings are real, depending on your level of solipsism, and the things that they do have a tangible effect on the world. Murder, torture, rape, bigotry, all the ills of society that we so despise we bring upon ourselves. Sometimes it is used an fuel for reform, sometimes it is ignored or even encouraged by those with their own agenda, but no matter what it seems determined to stick around.

     Oh, and it makes for some great movie material.

     Witchfinder General, otherwise known by the awesome but otherwise inaccurate title The Conqueror Worm, takes place during a particularly violent and hate-filled time in the world: 1645,in the midst of the English Civil War. Ol’ Albion is split roughly in half not only on political lines, Oliver Cromwell and his supporters on one side and the monarchy on the other, but on religious ones as well, with Catholics and non-Catholics squaring off against each other as well. Law and order has fallen to the wayside leaving chaos and misery in its wake, and from that chaos comes a popular new form of paranoia and prejudice. The villages of East Anglia are apparently infested with witches and witchcraft, driving its people to ruin with their satanic practices, and it is up to the Witchfinders, those paragons of divine virtue to root them out and take care of them. Through torture and executions, of course.

     Yeah, there’s a story here, an army captain wanting revenge against a corrupt witchfinder, but presumably that’s not what movie audiences were into in the late 60s. They want the violence, and Michael Reeves piles it on like a fat man putting cream cheese on a bagel. Frequent, brutal torture scenes, agonizing drawn-out hangings, even a rape thrown in there for good measure, and you start to see where the term ‘video nasty’ got its start. Hell, if they didn’t use really obvious red paint for blood you might be forgiven for mistaking this as some kind of weird prequel to the Saw franchise. Both films play to the ‘brutality of man’ idea while ironically desensitizing you to violence by smothering you with violence, both feel overly pretentious (although WG at least masks it in a period piece), and both just kind of suck. They’re basically cousins!

     I originally picked this film for the Marathon because it featured Vincent Price (here playing the devious Witchfinder Matthew Hopkins), and I wanted to make sure I didn’t skimp out on the horror legends. While it is good to see Price getting work, I don’t think he changes expression even once throughout this entire damn movie. He’s menacing sure, Vincent Price can do that in his sleep, but it's such a bland, unremarkable form of menacing. Compare it to his work in Masque of the Red Death or The Abominable Dr. Phibes and you wonder if Vincent had swallowed a couple Valium before each take. Hopkins doesn’t have to be super melodramatic and theatrical to be a good villain, but at least make it so I’m just sitting around waiting for him to be killed off. I should be relieved that good has triumphed over evil, not that I can finally get on with the rest of my life.

     Witchfinder General, aka The Conqueror Worm is a mentally exhausting, ultimately miserable experience. What could have been a poignant warning on the dangers of mob mentality and bigotry is pushed aside for 70 or minutes of torture porn, which is uncomfortable to watch and that ends up feeling frustratingly pointless and nihilistic for the sake of nihilism. Unless you’re really into that torture porn stuff I’d say don’t waste your time, and even then there are probably more recent and more gory films to satiate your appetite. Or you’re throwing a Renaissance fair themed Halloween party/movie marathon and you’re desperate for material, but that sounds really dumb. Don’t do that dumb thing please.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2016: Spirits of the Dead (1968), directed by Roger Vadim, Louis Malle and Federico Fellini

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "A Dream Within A Dream", by The Alan Parsons Project

     If there are two things that you just don’t see all that often in movies nowadays, it’s Edgar Allan Poe and anthology movies.

     Now as far as film legacies go, there aren’t many American writers, especially horror writers, that have achieved the same level of success on the silver screen Poe. There have not only been scores of films based directly or indirectly on his work (The Raven from earlier in this list, the Roger Corman series in the late 60s), but even films based on Poe himself (anybody remember that one movie with John Cusack?). That being said, there hasn’t really been anything Poe-related out recently, and it doesn’t seem like there’s as much of a outcry for Poe than there was in the past. Is America just not in a mid 19th century mood anymore, or are we just not interested in things related to books anymore? Who can say?

     In the case of anthology films, or films comprised of separate story segments (occasionally directed by separate people) compiled into one artistic piece, well those have never been all that prevalent in general. I can name drop a few, The Twilight Zone Movie, Creepshow, Black Sabbath, but it’s a pretty underused framing device that emphasizes brevity . Hell, even anthology TV shows are rare, despite the incredible pedigree that it has garnered for the horror and sci-fi genres (the Twilight Zone of course, the Outer Limits, Tales From the Crypt, Night Gallery if you’re being generous). Has modern America become so obsessed with the idea of continuity and arcs that we’ve killed off episodic storytelling? Should shows stick to 6 episodes if they’re going to stretch one story arc over an entire season? Who can say?

     For those who love the works of Poe and anthology films, look no farther than Spirits of the Dead, otherwise known as Tales of Mystery and Histoires Extraordinaires, starring Brigitte Bardot, Jane Fonda and Terence Stamp, among others. From the U.K. we have Roger Vadim with “Metzengerstein”, a story about a beautiful and sadistic Countess, her cousin, and a mysterious black horse. From France we have “William Wilson”, directed by Louis Malle, about a sociopathic young man who is stalked by another man who just so happens to also be named William Wilson. Finally, there’s “Toby Dammit” by Italian director Federico Fellini, detailing the tragic downward spiral of an neurotic, alcoholic actor who’s arrived in Rome for an awards ceremony. Fun fact: Only the first two parts of this movie are actually based on stories found in the Poe collection Tales of Mystery & Imagination, which is the name it first released under in the U.K.

     Out of the three, I found that it was Fellini’s contribution that stood out as the most interesting, both narratively and creatively speaking. Vadim and Malle’s stories are entertaining enough, and they stuck to the Poe identity much closer than Fellini, but there’s something so… ‘of the times’ about them that keeps them from standing out. The extensive use of colors, the cheesecake eroticism, the way the camera lingers on certain things to make sure you know they’re important, it all feels like something you’d see in, say, Corman’s Masque of the Red Death or a late era Hammer horror movie. That’s not to say they’re bad of course, but you know what you’re going to get with those stories, and they run on just long enough that you’re relieved when they finally decide to wrap up.

     “Toby Dammit” however, despite having the least in common with it’s source material, seems far more unique and prescient even today. It’s a surreal, kaleidoscopic mix of paranoia and self-destruction from beginning to end, and only rarely does it seem like we as the audience are going to be let in on what’s running through the titular Toby’s mind as stumbles madly to his inevitable conclusion. In that way, I think that Fellini manages to capture the sense of ‘fear & loathing’, that infamous state of mind coined by the great Hunter Thompson, better than any other filmmaker I’ve seen yet. Even Terry Gilliam, the man who directed the excellent Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, never quite reached the frenetic rush of anxiety, self-hatred and dissociation as “Toby” manages to achieve at its climax. It’s a question of pacing and it’s a question of brevity, and Fellini appears to feel more at ease with them than Vadim and Malle, who struggle at times in their sections to pad out their runtimes. Especially Vadim, who feels the need to stick a multi-minute long montage between a woman and her horse in the second half. And trust me, that’s not as interesting as the internet would have you believe.

     Vadim’s section is easily the weakest of the three, but I wouldn’t say it’s outright bad. Malle’s is rather predictable, which might be the fault of the author rather than the director really, although there is some worthwhile cinematography. Fellini’s is, as I mentioned, quite good. So overall I suppose it averages out to a pretty good movie, and I’d say it has earned a recommendation. If you’re working a very Poe-centric Halloween this, make sure you get this one in the queue.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2016 -- Planet of the Apes (1968), directed by Franklin J. Schaffner

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "All Alone", by Gorillaz

     If there’s one thing all sci-fi fans love, it’s a good ol’ dystopia. Whether we nuked ourselves back into the Stone Age, or zombies destroy civilization, or some sort of totalitarian dictatorship manages to enslave the Earth, we just can’t get enough of the downfall of our society. Perhaps it’s a sign of our modern times that the idea of the world crumbling to dust around us is so appealing, that our cynical view of the world might someday be validated, that buying free range chicken at Whole Foods really did matter in the end. Or maybe because of the fact dystopias are set in the future, we use it as a way to convince ourselves that our own lives aren’t actually all that bad, and that it isn’t too late to change things for the better. Either way, death sells.

     Just as dystopian fiction has been a great success in the world of literature, George Orwell’s “1984” and Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” being the most obvious examples, so too has it been explored to great success in the world of film. Terry Gilliam’s Brazil and Orson Welles’ The Trial, which depict worlds where free thought are crushed under the heel of all-consuming bureaucracy. George Miller’s Mad Max series, where the world has become a hellish desert and the dregs of humanity wage war against each other in souped up dune buggies. The Last Man on Earth (we won’t be viewing the film this year, but I think I’m going to reference it as often as humanly possible), where Vincent Price stars as the lone human against a world of nightmarish creatures. In terms of critical and commercial success however, not to mention franchise potential, there aren’t many dystopias that can compare to 1968’s Planet of the Apes.

     At this stage of the game, I think cultural osmosis has removed the need for a plot recap. Astronauts land on planet, planet is ruled by apes, Forbidden Zones, Charlton Heston, damn dirty apes and stinking hands etc., it’s all a part of the collective unconscious that is pop culture. We know what’s up with Planet of the Apes just as we know what’s up with Star Wars and Die Hard and all those other movies that people deride other people for not having seen them. So is there even a point in watching this movie, in that case? Is there a point in watching any of these movies, when they have been referenced and parodied hundreds upon hundreds of times over the years?

     Well, I’ve already started writing the article, so…

     The thing that makes Planet of the Apes worth watching is the same thing that made The Incredible Shrinking Man worth watching a few entries back: It tells a old-school style sci-fi story and it looks good while doing it. The allusions to the Cold War (which was pretty hot at this point), the speeches on man’s failings (done by the protagonist of course), the irony of a fundamentalist ape society that denies evolution, it all feels like something out of a Ray Bradbury or Stanislaw Lem book. Much of that likely has to do with the fact that Rod Serling, the narrator of The Twilight Zone and writer of 95% of the episodes, wrote the first draft of the screenplay. Although Michael Wilson (Bridge On the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia) ultimately rewrote most of the script, the infamous twist at the end and the overall tone of the film end up making Planet of the Apes feel like an extended episode of The Twilight Zone. Which isn’t a bad thing either, considering the show is still the gold standard by which any bit of television that claims to be science fiction, speculative fiction, horror or otherwise is inevitably judged. I mean, considering it could have ended up feeling like an episode of The Night Gallery, and I don’t think anyone would want that.

     When it comes to the ‘looking good’ part, you have Franklin J. Schaffner (The Boys From Brazil, Patton)and make-up artist John Chambers to thank for that. Chambers’ apes are remarkably realistic considering the era in which it was made, and despite their general similarity each major character manages their own distinctive look. It was Schaffner’s idea to portray the ape society as archaic and proto-industrial rather than the futuristic world of Serling’s original draft and Pierre Boulle’s original novel, a move which not only reduced costs but in some ways heightens the surreality of the whole thing. Overall, the film cost about 6 millions dollars to make, but not only did it make back about 5 times its budget, it spawned about 5 sequels, a TV series, an animated series, a reboot by Tim Burton, a successful reboot series in 2011 and it ended up in the National Film Registry for being ‘culturally, historically or aesthetically different’. Not a bad job, considering you can barely make a half-decent indie movie with only 6 million bucks nowadays.

     So go ahead and watch Planet of the Apes, it gets a full recommendation from me. Much like The Incredible Shrinking Man, it’s a good film for those getting into science fiction to see, in fact this might be considered ‘essential viewing’ to some people. Even if you aren’t a particularly adamant sci-fi fan though, I’d recommend Planet of the Apes because it’s just a entertaining and well-made movie, one which has held up remarkably well over the years. If you’re up for violating some ape law this Halloween, this might be the film for you.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2015: Rosemary's Baby (1968), directed by Roman Polanski

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Devil in Disguise", by Elvis Presley

     Man, people sure are obsessed with the idea of things tempting people to worship Satan, aren’t they? Rock music makes you worship Satan, Metal music makes you worship Satan, Jazz, marijuana, alcohol, video games, comic books, movies, dancing, sex, not voting Republican, Harry Potter, Pokemon, Dungeons & Dragons, vaccinating your child from deadly infectious diseases, being an African-American president, it seems like the only way not to supposedly spend an eternity in hell is to spend your entire life in fearful prayer while living in a thatched-roof hut. And since no one has being doing that since the 16th century I guess we all better hope that Christianity isn’t real, just so we all don’t end up burning in a lake of fire. Because if you follow a belief system when an omnipotent deity gives you all free will only to punish you for-fucking-ever when you don’t follow his arbitrary set of rules, you can’t expect him to consider society’s value shifts over time.

     Sorry. I’m a little peeved about this one.

     From the late 60s to the mid 70s, three movies about Ol’ Scratch were released in theaters, and all three were enormous commercial and critical successes. Those movies were, of course, William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (Academy Award winner for Best Writing Adapted Screenplay and Best Sound Mixing, Golden Globe Award winner for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actress and Best Screenplay), Richard Donner’s The Omen (Academy Award winner for Best Original Score, BAFTA Award winner for Best Supporting Actress, Golden Globe Award Winner for Best Acting Debut) and of course Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (Academy Award winner for Best Supporting Actress, Golden Globe Award winner for Best Supporting Actress), which came first in 1968. Each one featured a child, baby or older, who by some otherworldly shenanigans is connected with the Devil, a single character who knows what’s up and who none of the other characters believe, and a couple people dying due to demonic magical stuff. I guess thousands of people dying in the South Pacific made people really hungry for supernatural bullshit in their movies.

     I wish I had the time to really dig into an analysis for Rosemary’s Baby, but I’m pressed for time, so I’ll try to keep it brief: This movie pissed me off. Roman Polanski is a great director, the movie looks good, the cast does excellently, you get to see Mia Farrow’s tits, it’s a great experience at first. Once that ending came around though, and Polanski built it up a snail’s pace, I couldn’t help but feel that I sat in front of a screen for two hours for fucking nothing. Anything I could have said about the themes of the movie, of Polanski’s more avant-garde filmmaking style as compared to Friedkin and Donner, it all gets washed away because I can’t stop thinking about that fucking ending and the feeling that I wasted my time watching this when I could have been reviewing some other film for the Marathon that I might have enjoyed, like Nightcrawler or M. It’s the same kind of feeling I got from The Seduction of Dr. Fugazzi, but while that movie was pure uncut shit, Rosemary’s Baby leaves me with an overwhelming sense of frustration and disappointment that you only really get from a movie that you expected great things from. We all know what that’s like.

     Of course I’m just one guy, and Rosemary’s Baby is one of the most well-regarded films in movie history, so you should probably judge for yourself. I guess I can recommend it on a historical basis, since it’s one of the few times that a horror movie has been met with mainstream critical approval. I don’t know how many people watch movies on Halloween for their historical context though, and I don’t know how many people would sit down and watch a movie about a woman’s pregnancy anxiety with their friends. Maybe that’s what the kids do nowadays instead of buying Furby’s.