Title: Unforgiven
Year: 1992
Director: Clint Eastwood
Writer: David Webb Peoples
Starring: Clint Eastwood as William Munny, Morgan Freeman as Ned, Gene Hackman as Little Bill, Richard Harris as English Bob
If you're my age or thereabouts (god help ya!) then you were probably brought up on westerns, or “cowboy movies” as we used to call them back then. The Magnificent Seven. The Lone Ranger. The Big Country. And series like “The High Chapparal”, “Gunsmoke” and “Bonanza” on the TV. Westerns were of course most popular in the forties to about the sixties, and then began to fade a little as other, more exciting and more challenging genres like science-fiction, horror and suspense movies came through. To be totally fair to them, Westerns were seldom great works of writing. That's not to say they weren't written well, but most of them followed a basic formula, and while Sergio Leone's “spaghetti westerns” would somewhat redefine and reinvigorate the genre in the seventies, Westerns were pretty much on their way out by the following decade. In recent times they've made something of a resurgence, thanks mainly to the likes of “Dances with wolves” and “Tombstone”, but even now it's unusual to see a Western on the big screen.
That said, the last one I watched, the remake of “3:10 to Yuma”, was very enjoyable. But if you look through the history of Westerns there are big names striding across them like colosssi: Brynner, Wayne, Marvin. And in later years, one man would come to almost embody the idea of the hired gun, the nameless stranger drifting into town and causing, or getting caught up in, a whole heap of trouble. Beginning his career in the TV series “Rawhide” and later going on to become the hard-bitten cop Harry Callahan, Clint Eastwood made his name in the already-mentioned movies directed by Italian film maker Sergio Leone, and it is to these, to some degree, that this movie tips its battered, gunshot hat.
Billed as “the last great Western”, it really does turn out to be that. In a coda or epilogue to his years as “The man with no name”, Eastwood stars in, directs and produces a movie which forever draws a line under every mean western hombre he played in his younger days, and drags in the process some harsh truths out into the light. This is not a feel-good movie, where the goody gets the baddies and the girl. There is no riding off into the sunset as some unseen harmonica plays, no kicking the heels to the flanks of a trusty steed which whinnys and rears up, carrying the hero across the bleak desert, his job done, the town saved, the bad guy lying dead on a dusty street behind him.
This, if it can be termed as such, is a real Western, probably the most faithful and least fanciful depiction of what life must have been like in the Old West, and how stories get taller and taller the more they're told, and ordinary men who would laugh at the concept are made into heroes, but the reality is much different. It also finally answers that old question: just what does happen to old gunslingers who aren't killed and survive to their retirement?
We open on a typical western scene. A man stands in the setting sun, seen from a distance, raising and bringing down an axe. We can't see what's he's doing. Is he burying a rival, someone he has just killed? Is he digging for treasure, or indeed hiding some? Turns out that, under a tree and next to a ramshackle barn, the man is burying his wife, who has died of smallpox. It's two years later and we're in Big Whisky, Wyoming, a typical sh
ithole of a town where the rain is lashing down, as if in sympathy with the pathetic lives the folk here live. In a cathouse, a cowboy takes exception to some remark made of him by one of the prostitutes and cuts her face. He leaves her disfigured, but she must still earn her living the only way she knows how, the only way she can.
The sheriff, known as Little Bill (Hackman) is reluctant to have the two cowboys hanged --- it was, after all, only a whore they cut --- and instead decides to whip them, but when Skinny, the owner of the bordello, complains that he is out of pocket as he now has one less whore to work for him, Bill fines the two instead, which does not go down well with the other ladies. They decide to pool what little resources they have and try to get together enough money to offer a reward to anyone who will come to Big Whisky and kill the two cowboys for them. Justice was not done, they think, so they will create their own justice. An eye for an eye.
We're back at the farm, where the man we saw at the start, the man burying his wife, is chasing hogs around when a stranger rides up and starts telling him that he knows who he is. William Munny (Eastwood), famed gunfighter, bankrobber and train robber, who shot more men than anyone even knows. The man denies this, annoyed, looking at the young man who sits arrogantly astride his horse, eyeing him as if deciding whether or not he has wasted his time making this trip to meet him. Invited in, turns out the youth is the nephew of someone Munny knows, calls himself the Schofield Kid, and says that his uncle told him that if he wanted a partner to help him kill someone he should seek Munny out. Schofield tells Munny about the disfigurement in Big Whisky, though by now it's become somewhat embellished: the whore lost her eyes, here ears, and so on. Schofield is going there to claim the thousand dollar reward that the other girls have offered, and wants Munny to split it with him. Munny, however, is not the man he used to be, or is rumoured to be, and declines, sending the Schofield Kid on his way.
As he watches him ride away into the distance though, Munny looks thoughtful and it's obvious he's remembering freer times, wilder times where he rode where the wind took him, and shot down any man who looked at him cross-eyed. Later he takes out his gun and practices shooting, but his late wife has “cured him of his wickedness” as he says himself, and his aim is well off. Age has caught up with him, and a farmer has little use for a six-shooter. With some perseverance though, and switching to a rifle, he finds the old skill has not deserted him. Soon afterwards he is riding in pursuit of the youth, leaving his two children to look after the farm.
In Big Whisky, Skinny discovers that the girls do not have the thousand dollars they have advertised as a reward, and worries what will happen when someone comes to collect? He goes to tell Bill, who is less than pleased, knowing that such an offer, even if the girls are lying and actually have the money, is going to attract every cowpoke and gunslinger from here to Cheyenne. They'll be flooding in, all eager to get their hands on that money and do in those two cowboys. Going to be real hard to maintain law and order round here now. And he was just getting finished building his house, too.
Munny comes to the house of his old friend and partner Ned Logan (Freeman) who he asks to look in on his kids while he's away. Ned however decides to accompany his old buddy on the trip, and the two of them rendezvous with the Schofield Kid, who is less than happy that the reward is now going to have to be split three ways. Munny, however, is immovable: it's either Ned, him and the Kid or they'll both go home and the youngster can tackle the cowboys on his own. Schofield gives in with bad grace, seeing as he has no choice, but declares that Munny will have to share his half with his friend. Munny says it's a three-way split or nothing, and Schofield has to agree, especially when they discover he's almost blind.
Meanwhile, the first gunfighter to act upon the whores' offer rolls into town, as “English Bob” (Harris) heads towards Big Whisky on a train. It's not long however before he and his travelling biographer, Beauchamps, are accosted by Bill and his men. Having disarmed Bob --- Beauchamps would not know what to do with a gun --- Bill proceeds to kick the living s
hit out of him, sending a message to all the bounty hunters and cowboys who plan to come looking for the “whores' gold”. Having reduced Bob, a much older --- and unarmed now --- man, to bloody pulp, he then throws him and his biographer in a cell. While they're incarcerated, Bill reads through the book which is supposedly written about English Bob, “The Duke of Death”, and laughs at the so-called true account of the episode he reads. Bill tells him the true story, and Beauchamps begins to see that Bob may not be the “English gentleman gunfighter” he has been portraying him as. When Bob is “escorted” beyond the county line, Beauchamps stays behind, reasoning that he can get more and proper material for his writings by sticking with the sheriff.
When Little Bill is told two strangers have ridden into town, armed, he goes to relieve them of their weapons, by any means necessary. Ned goes to check on the Kid --- and intimates he might take a little detour into one of the ladies' rooms while he's at it --- leaving William shivering and looking a pathetic figure on his own at the bar. When the sheriff's men enter and demand his gun, and he refuses to hand it over, Bill takes it and then doles out to the stranger the same treatment he gave English Bob, which is to say he punches, kicks and generally beats the crap out of him. Ned and The Kid meanwhile have been helped by the girls to escape, and make for their horses. William manages to crawl outside and somehow gets up on his horse, and they all head to shelter.
It's some time before Munny recovers, and the Kid watches him with growing disappointment, disillusion and realisation that this man is not who he thought he was, not any more. When he says to Ned “He's gonna die, ain't he?” there is no sorrow in his voice, and no real doubt either. He's just concerned that they won't be able to finish the job. The trio go after the cowboys and get one of them, but it's far from the triumph they --- or at least, the Schofield Kid --- had envisioned. Dyin's a dirty business, and it becomes pretty clear to the two hardened veterans that the Kid, despite his boasts, has never killed anyone. He is visibly shaken, and Munny shows his humanity when, having been the one to shoot the young cowboy, he entreats his mates to come out and allow him to have a drink of water, promising that they won't shoot them. He's clearly heartily sick of the whole business, even though he's been spending some time with the girl who these guys cut up. He knows they have to pay for what they did, but he don't have to like it. He will, however, keep his promise and finish the job.
Ned, on the other hand, decides he's had enough and is going to head back to Kansas. William says they'll head down to kill the other target and then hook up with Ned on the way back. When word reaches Little Bill that, despite all his warnings and demonstrations, one of the two cowboys have been killed, he organises a posse and they move out in search of the killers. Ned is captured and brought to him. Meanwhile, Munny and the Kid close in on the other cowboy, who has taken refuge with some of his mates. They get him as he comes out to take a s
hit, the Kid killing what proves to be his first man. But when the girls bring the reward to Munny and the Kid, they learn that Ned has died under interrogation, tortured to death by Little Bill, and worse, his body is now being displayed in front of the saloon with a sign saying his best friend is a murderer.
And so we kick into the final phase of the movie, where for a short, brutal period Eastwood resurrects the desperado that populated so many Spaghetti Westerns, with a shot of Dirty Harry in there for good measure. Age seems to fall from him like a cloak, and anger and revenge burn in his eyes. If he had a cigar he'd probably clamp it between his teeth and grind them till the cheroot split. He sends The Kid back to his farm with the money, telling him to take his own share and give Ned's and Munny's to his kids, then he rides on into town for one hell of a reckoning.
When he leaves town, Little Bill is dead, Skinny is dead, along with about another four of the sheriff's deputies. He rides off into the rain alone, nobody daring to stop him, and warns that unless Ned is buried with proper respect and the ladies are left alone, he will return and “kill every goddamn one of you sons of bitches.”
QUOTES
Little Bill (looking down at the cut whore): “She gonna die?”
(It's said with such offhand casualness, such total disinterest that he might as well have been talking about the weather. Bill clearly could not care less whether she lives or dies: one less whore to worry about. Still, if it did turn out to be a case of murder, then those boys may have to swing anyway. So maybe he is a little concerned, but more for himself and them than for the poor pathetic victim lying at his feet).
English Bob: “I don't wish to give offence, but I suggest this country select a king --- or even a queen --- rather than a president. One isn't that quick to shoot a king or a queen: the majesty of royalty, you see.”
Joe: “Maybe you don't wish to give offence, sir, but you are givin' it, pretty thick! This country don't need no queens whatever I reckon. Matter of fact, when I hear talk of queens I ---”
Thirsty: “Shut up Joe!”
Joe: “What's wrong with you Thirsty? This son of a bitch---”
Thirsty: “Might be that this dude here is English Bob! He's the one that works for the railroad shootin' Chinamen! Might be that he's waitin' for some crazy cowboy to touch his pistol, so that he can shoot him down!”
Joe: “Is that a fact, mister? You English Bob?”
Bob: “Pheasants. Let's shoot some pheasants. Ten pheasants, say ... a dollar a pheasant. I'll shoot for the Queen, and you for ... well, whomever.” (After the shooting match) “Well, that's eight for me and one for you. That comes to seven of your American Dollars.”
Joe (paying): “Som damn good shootin'! For a “John Bull”!”
Bob: “Well, no doubt your aim was affected by your grief over the injury to your president.”
Bob: “There's a dignity in royalty, a majesty that precludes the possibility of assassination. Now if you were to point a pistol at a king or a queen, your hands would shake; the sight of royalty would cause you to dismiss all thoughts of bloodshed and you would stand ... how shall I put it? In awe. You would stand in awe. Now, a president? Well, (pauses and laughs) why
not shoot a president?”
Bob: “Little Bill! I thought you was --- I mean, I thought you were dead.”
Bill: “Lot of people thought I was dead, Bob. Hell, even
I thought I was dead, till I found out I was just in Nebraska!”
Bill (reading the book in Beauchamps's bag): “
The Duck of Death.”
Beauchamps: “Um, duke.
The Duke of Death.”
Bill: “Duck, I says.”
Bill (while kicking seven shades out of English Bob): “I guess you think I'm kickin' you, Bob, but it ain't so. What I'm doin' is talkin': talkin' to all those villians down in Kansas, and I'm talkin' to all them villians down in Missouri, and all those villians down in Cheyenne! And I'm tellin' them there ain't no whores' gold! And even if there was, they wouldn't wanna come lookin' for it anyhow!”
The Kid (looking at a badly-beaten Munny): “His pistol must have jammed!”
The Kid: “Say Will?”
Munny: “What?”
The Kid: “That was the first one.”
Munny: “The first one what?”
The Kid: “First one I ever killed.”
Munny: “Yeah?”
The Kid: “You know I said I shot five men? It weren't true. That Mexican that came at me with a knife? I just busted his leg with a shovel, I didn't kill him neither.”
Munny: “Well, you sure kileld the hell out of that fella today.”
The Kid: “Yeah. Yeah I did. I killed the hell out of him, didn't I? Three shots, and he was takin' a s
hit. Jesus Christ! It don't seem real! He ain't never gonna breathe again. Ever. Now he's dead. The other one too. All on account of pullin' the trigger.”
Munny: “It's a hell of a thing, killin' a man. You take away all he's got, all he's ever gonna have.”
The Kid: “Yeah. Well. I guess they had it comin'.”
Munny: “We've all got it comin'.”
Little Bill: “Well Sir you are a cowardly son of a bitch! You just shot an unarmed man!”
Munny: “Well, he shoulda armed himself if he's gonna decorate his saloon with my friend.”
Little Bill: “You'd be William Munny out of Missouri. Killed women and children.”
Munny: “That's right. I killed women and children. Killed just about everything that walked or crawled at one time. And I'm here to kill you, Little Bill, for what you did to Ned.”
Those clever little touches
A man almost synonymous with Westerns and being a hard-bitten hombre who would ride for days to find a man and kill him, Eastwood finds that as he tries to mount a horse for the first time in what must be years, it is not as easy as he rememnbers it being, and he ends up dancing around in a comical/tragic circle trying to get on the horse's back, eventually ending up on his backside in the dirt. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
Whether it's intentional or not, it's interesting that the hero/antihero's name is William Munny, very close to William Bonney, the famed Billy the Kid, espeically as Munny is supposed to have this tough desperado reputation.
The times, they are a-changin'
Munny thinks little of leaving his two children, the oldest of whom can't be more than ten or twelve, to fend for themselves on the farm while he rides off after the Scofield Kid. I guess they're in the middle of nowhere; it's not as if the kids are going to be attacked or anythng, and they've probably been shown how to defend themselves. Still, social services would not be impressed!