Watching this, over at dad’s. What a classic! The weird disembodied voices, the result of dubbing, are annoying. But they’re almost part of the period charm.
Certainly the visual aesthetic (which, like the story itself, owes a debt to Kurosawa’s Yojimbo), and the fabulous music of Ennio Morricone, are wonderful.
Clint Eastwood’s Joe is a wonderfully appealing male-fantasy (appealing to men, undoubtedly; to women? I couldn’t say!): tough, taciturn, bright, witty, moralising, but a cold-hearted butcher, and a one man army.
What man doesn’t, secretly or otherwise, wish they were tough enough to take on all their enemies, and laconically and lethally dispatch them all? And get the girl(s), of course.
And Clint looks sooo goddam cool!
I want that poncho! But of course my pot-belly and haggard face won’t light it up like a young Eastwood does, alas.
The plot? Who cares, frankly. It’s just a pathetic McGuffin, giving Eastwood a vehicle do righteous murderous mayhem.
One thing I do like, plot wise, in addition to the whole general vibe, is the segment where the Rojos rough Joe up. Even though it doesn’t really tether our taciturn hero to reality, it does at least temper the whole ‘superhero’ level of invincibility.
There are some great faces in this movie. Eastwood, of course. Ramón and Esteban. A d then the old-timers, like Silvanito and Piripero.
For its time, 1964, the pornographic revelling in brutal violence must’ve been quite shocking. We’re inured to it now. But it’s pre Peckinpah, pre Tarantino. And it predates even the slew of 1970s ‘revisionist’ Westerns.
Anyway, this ain’t an in depth analysis. It’s just a wee celebration of a rather stylised and enjoyable slice of Spaghetti Western hokum.
I think I’ve got the trilogy on DVD, at home? I’ll have to watch the other two movies. And I’ll have to check out Yojimbo (again?), as well.
And the ending? S’wonderful.
