I’ve been curious about Blow Out (1981) for a while now upon learning that is was Brian De Palma response and remake of Michelangelo Antonioni‘s seminal film Blow Up (1966) which I reviewed a few years ago, finding it quite profound and left me contemplating how we deconstruct images that we capture on a daily basis, what lies under the surface of them. If we delve further are we prepared for what we find once we explore. Do we want to see and accept the hidden truth. Questions I hope to revisit and maybe find some answers in my join revisit review.
Moving forward 15 years to De Palma’s remake, a really clever reworking even on the surface level, a film in its own right away from the more obvious connections in terms of title and the protagonists discovery, audio or photo-chemical, it plunges them into a world they never wish they intended to enter. Jack (John Travolta) a sound-recordist for low-budget Hitchcockesque slasher knock-offs is working on his latest collaboration with Sam (Peter Boyden) whose advised that the scream of his shower victim is pathetic to say the least, leaving his film without the impact that he wants or really needs to sell the shower murder which opened up the film. Leading to Jack going out on a late-night sound recording session for the long list he’s been given.
The recording scene has strong links to The Conversation (1974) which saw reclusive anorak Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) on an intensely observed and documented recording of a couples seemingly innocent conversation. Carefully positioned kit from high above and around the square, picks up all the said conversation. Jack again is on a job, more isolated on a bridge with his exposed recording equipment, no need to hide as he points to what he wants to capture on tape. He’s a pro and takes a joy in the process, even getting a thrill out of catching a lovers conversation, carrying on even when they know he’s there. An audio peeping tom you could say, capturing what he wants for his own pleasure. It’s here we see the even that the rest of the film hinges on, a car-crash that carried presidential candidate Governor McRyan (John Hoffmeister) plunges to his death. On the surface it’s a straight-forward incident, until Jack jumps in to save them, finding a woman Sally (Nancy Allen) fighting to stay above the rising water level.
It all starts to get murky when we get the hospital, not yet knowing the identity and position of those involved in the car that careened off the road into the river. There’s a sense of urgency as a cover-ups suggested, for the Governor to be known to be in a car with a woman, a prostitute that could have jeopardized his political chances. The plot literally thickens with Sally being involved, her part is hushed up, and hopefully Jacks too. The role of the women is questionably changed from Jane (Vanessa Redgrave) wanting the film from snooping photographer Thomas (David Hemmings) who very easily fobs her off with a blank roll. Sally is more submissive, more agreeable to be told to get out of town for a while, let the situation blow over. Jack unlike David is more proactive, wanting to understand what’s going on.
Technology plays a bigger role in the remake, sound being the main evidence to explore, Not only has he got to be sure of what he’s hearing, he has to prove that to the Police who want to close the case as an accident. I was fascinated how he synchronised photographs that were taken (by peeping tom Manny Karp (Dennis Franz)) which brings the evidence to life. There’s more immediacy to not just prove his theory right but also act on it, inform the police, or even the press who will make even more noise. The sense of urgency is palpable here, where as Blow Up is more secretive, more investigative, wanting to know for sure himself before doing anything, or nothing, instead changing his perception.
Jack’s perception of the worlds more open, aware of the corruption in the world thanks to his past job working with undercover police to fight corruption. This discovery has to be acted on, hoping if he does it right he can redeem himself and save himself from more guilt. I’ve not even mentioned Burke (John Lithgow) a rogue element whose acts on his own for the corrupt opposition, creating his own trail of bloody murder to cover his tracks. An extra element that was only suggested in the original that creates real tension, an unknown element to Jack for the majority of the film.
Blow Out is a near perfect thriller that goes a bit too far at times, the 360 degree camera moves really should have been more restrained at times, becoming too literal, yes we get it, everything is out his his control. I found the addition of Burke’s murders of women who looked like Sally being killed, manipulating the audience to the point of pushing us over the edge, always seeing the victims from the back before he goes ahead. Now I look forward to revisiting the original, how will my memories hold up and else will I discover. It was a sparse and shocking film even then, next time I’ll be looking at the relationship between the two.
It’s been over two months since I sat down for Blow Out, before returning for the original Blow Up (1966) inspiring De Palma to remake it, which on reflection is a fitting tribute and really has built on this almost silent thriller. I remember being fired up by the film, going off the recommendation at Art school to seek this one out. I was very pleased with the end result. I had forgotten the begging as our photographer Thomas exits a factory at the end of what appears to be the working day. However his is just getting started. We’re given the wrong impression about him, he’s not just another worker, the Rolls Royce is a clear indicator that he’s a successful man who is able to support himself. Yet is self-conscious enough to hide his car, from the workers or just the his in. Back at his studio he becomes what could be Weinstien-esque artist, working with his latest model, wanting to get the best out of her, showing little respect for the woman herself. As the poster misleads me this time, she’s the model he’s enjoying through his camera, reaching an almost sexual climax.
He treats his models much like he does his staff, with little respect, they are just glad to be there, and little attention is given to them in the film. Just supporting him in the studio and his whims, allowing him to live the life of luxury and creative freedom. Coming and going as he pleases, during his next shoot he asks his 5 models to close their eyes, whilst he leaves the studio to chat with his painter friend Bill (John Castle) whose enjoying his own creativity and the attention of his lover/muse Patricia (Sarah Miles). They are all enjoying the bubble that is the swinging sixties. Creatively it looks amazing to been a part of that moment that’s depicted here as something that then takes a horrible turn to the darkness of reality.
On his comings and goings, after buying a wooden propeller he ventures to the local park, just see whats there, getting carried away he becomes a member of the paparazzi, or a peeping tom documenting what looks like an affair between an older man (Ronan O’Casey) who we always see from a distance. The first of a number of scenes films dialogue free, only the wind interrupts this intimate intrusion into the private lives of these lovers. The minimalism of the scene allows us to really get lost in what is happening in this section of the park, we are now as bad as Thomas who happily captures this private moment. We are complicit in this voyeuristic act and we’ll have to pay for that later on. Until Thomas’s spotted, causing Jane (Redgrave) to chase after him, rightfully wanting the film that has caught them in the act of something quite private.
On his return to the studio, we are as surprised he is to found Jane’s found him, out of nowhere, everything is a surprise in this film. Antonio has layered with characters throughout his film that keep appearing out of nowhere, unexpected visitors that come in and out of the photographers day slowing him down, or should I say wearing him down the images in the park begin to unveil a dark secret that he wished he never discovered. The mime artist who he meets on the road, happily given them money, creatives support or sponsorship, it’s very vague. Two young girls who will do anything to model for him reappear, whose innocence’s taken advantage off. Jane’s time however is most compelling, Redgrave’s treated with more respect, yes she undresses, in hopes of securing the roll of film. Yet we never see her breasts, I thought I had from memory, however she’s photographed more respectfully than the other actresses who’re treated like models. She indulges as best she can, clearly out of her depth with the photographer whose not about to give up on his latest roll.
Now the fun really begins, I say fun, the darkness of his latest photographs make themselves known to him. Again we go near silence as he develops and investigates the work, getting deeper, more curious to what is going on in the images. What at first could be a couple uncomfortable at a peeping tom becomes more sinister. He can’t give up, instead he continues to investigate, blowing up sections of the stills to understand the hidden landscape that he was capturing. It’s haunting to see the reveal in near silence, as he learns we learn to. A discovery that can no longer be hidden away, they can’t become part of a body of work, as they document a crime, the photographer an unwitting witness to something he wasn’t expecting.
Where Thomas is alone in his world, Jack is more vocal in Blow Out, the film allows more time to investigate and reach out to others. The original is built upon, allow is to move away from the initial shock of the discovery to look at the wider consequences, how they can affect others. We don’t really know what happens to Jane after she leaves, does she know her lovers dead or is she just relieved to know that her little secret won’t get out. Instead see just the beginning and the effect is has on someone who really shouldn’t have been there.
The end of the film has left me feeling pretty much the same, the mime artists playing tennis, lost in their own world, their craft. Thomas looks on wondering how he now fits into this world that he believed was part of. It’s just increased, revealing a far darker side, one that he has hoped to escape. Even the middle class trappings of his own have hidden him from life. The world of sex, drugs and rock and roll (courtesy of The Yardirds) he has to reassess his position, his perspective. Does all his work hide something lurking under the surface, He captures what he sees through the lens, ignoring the world around him. Unlike Jack who was more aware of the world around him, but chose to escsape it for the world of low-budget films, creating his own reality. Having seen both films, I can clearly see how De Palma has built on a minimalist film about the truth of our reality, how an artist who can be lost in the world of their work can be brought back to reality through the work they make.
Another film that I’ve been putting off for a few years, not really sure it would be worth watching. It was one of the films that I was put off by the trailer. So over a decade later I’ve sat down and taken in my first Western of the new year, one with a twist…of sorts. I was initially reminded of Bite the Bullet (1975) a desert horse race led by Gene Hackman and the only woman Candice Bergen who are the only ones besides Ben Johnson that I remember on viewing a few years ago. It was another take on the genre that had all but died, needing a long rest like the horses who are sweating onscreen, something that is thankfully not repeated in Hildago (2004) which is another race film but over in the Middle East or Arabia as it was known at the end of the 19th century.
We begin at Wounded Knee (1890) which is shortened to just one grim scene, with time to reenact one photo from the massacre, did we really need to see that? However the more I think about it, it does bring that image to life for another audience who wouldn’t be aware of. For others who are aware of it, new life’s brought to the image – if that’s even possible. We first meet dispatcher Frank Hopkins (Viggo Mortensen) who arrives at the Sioux camp just before the orders are carried out, he has a massive sympathy for them and can even live alongside them as we learn when he joins Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show.
The authenticity of the West is kept to the very familiar so we have an identifiable world to place the Hopkins in before he jumps onto a boat about 20 minutes in. At this stage it’s about building up the life he will leave for the unknown and the exotic of Arabia. You could say this is where the genre meets Lawrence of Arabia (1962) without Peter O’Toole and the grandeur of David Lean. Sadly there is something from this film for it to live up to the landscape that the film focuses on. One that is in stark contrast to 19th century America which is rising in recognition around the world one of the most powerful nations.
So what is Hildago lacking? First of all I think the lead is mis-cast, Viggo Mortensen who you can see has put some extra weight on for this one does have a screen presence. However he appears to be too easy-going for me here. Playing against type, usually something darker for him to chew on, there’s little for him to really get into. The dialogue lets him down too, he’s just a friendly cowboy on his holidays in Arabia happening to show them how its done in one a very traditional horse race that prides the breeding, training above the rider.
The look of the film is a that of the Western set against the Middle East landscape, you have plenty of sumptuous shots, even trying to replicate Monument Valley or even trying to reference both John Ford and David Lean whose visuals played a prominent role in their stronger films. Here the attempt it valiant but falls short for trying too hard for me and just not letting the landscape inform the photography. The number of silhouettes, and references to Richard Prince are so strong the film is lost to them at times.
Another point, going back to Viggo Mortensen briefly is the revelation he is part Native American, which is another white-washing of the culture for a white audience, which shows how far Hollywood had come even nearly 13 years ago. He doesn’t even look slightly Native American, no attempt to change any features, he here’s an idea, cast an actor with ancestry to a Native nation, just not Johnny Depp after seeing him in The Lone Ranger (2013). I must give Mortensen is dues, he is respectful of those he meets across the Atlantic, his common courtesy of the lost cowboy does him good to Sheikh Riyadh (Omar Sharif) an Jazira (Zuleikha Robinson) who begin to look past the mystery of the foreigner to see the good within in. Which makes the film too soft in places, there’s no danger posed by him, he’s a laughing-stock of all the other racers, with his mustang, among all the thoroughbreds he’s competing with. He truly is the other, before going all out Native at times.
I must touch briefly on the special effects, which I suppose now look dated, used sparingly through the film. It’s still obvious when they’re being used for dramatic effect, trying to make the Wild West look tame to that of Arabia, just send T.E. Lawrence out there to win them all over. It kind of all distracts from the natural beauty of the desert which is another character here, whose interfered with at times.
I think what saves this film from being offensive, which it isn’t, is the heart within it, not the strongest but there is a strong enough murmur that keeps you watching to see him finish. Which isn’t a forgone conclusion, we know Hildago has it in him to win, yet its the relationship between horse and man whose seen by both audience and the Arabs who accept him as a worthy competitor. Hopkins accepts his own mixed heritage which he accepts, the events of Wounded Knee have clearly effected him to push himself, picking himself up from his time with William Cody (J.K. Simmons) as a drunk. The race is a form of grieving for him, combined with the cowboy image is rather confusing. On the one hand you have the chivalrous American, yet on the other you have the respectful Native which is rare and here not all that entertaining.
I was inspired to get out of my collection a film I hadn’t seen in a few years thanks to m friend over at Once Upon a Screen. It was one of the first classics that I devoured when my interest in film was developing, hungry for the more obvious pieces that everyone knows without really having to look to far, readily available to watch you could say. Bonnie and Clyde (1967) is also a turning point in American film, breaking the mold of the decaying studio system to deliver one of the then most violent films. Very much a product of its time, that has stood the test of time, still having the power to shock. It may look dated in places however that’s hardly something to complain about, it’s almost 50 years old, yes 50 years old, a film about two of the most prolific bank-robbers of depression era America, a two-man Jesse James gang that drive around the Deep South, robbing from the rich banks that prevented them having the life they felt they deserved.
I can’t leave the subject of violence that my friend discussed, It wasn’t used for the sake of violence. Like any content it has to be used properly and for a reason, unless the intention is to throw you off-balance, a stylistic choice by the director. Violence has since this film and The Wild Bunch (1969) been attributed to a rise in violence which is nonsense, violence was there before both those films and as we know after the events in France its still happens. No one is blaming film-violence for the acts of terrorism there. It comes from a root cause, a method to scare and control. Violence of the screen acts only as a mirror image of life, if we don’t see violence behind the security of a projected image we don’t truly understand the power of violence. It’s not glorified by Arthur Penn its simply mirrored and exaggerated in order to show us how bloody and horrific it really is. Just what Peckinpah built upon two years later using slow-motion that became a signature in hos work. If we re forced to look at it we’re engrossed by it, which we should be repulsed by. The images on the news is the real violence which we’re warned about before a piece of broadcast. To deny violence on-screen is to deny that it happens, much the same goes for strong language which is used right is a true reflection. Obviously not all audience should be exposed to this, learning the dangers of the world through the comfort of fairy tales that have dark characters and morals that stay with you, allowing you to understand the world around you as you grow up. Violence and strong language if dealt with sensitively can be powerful weapons in their own right.
Enough of the lecture and onto the film that I hadn’t seen since I was at uni so over 3 years ago now. I think that was long enough to forget most of the plot, even the odd clip didn’t really join up all the dots. Allowing me to go into this film very much with a fresh pair of eyes, maybe that’s the power of the images that they stay with you long enough that they you can feel their presence even as they fade into the long-term-memory. The events had long since faded leaving a sense of visceral violence and youthful energy that excites you, even though it’s about bank robberies. We are slowly lulled into a false sense of security, an uncertain time of un-seen poverty in America via old photographs that depict suffering, poverty and struggle to survive against the odds, the banks and ultimately the system that itself is fighting to stand-up. Before we meet a young couple in the oddest of situation, a crime is about to be committed, the start of a strange relationship between Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty) and Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway). Sparks fly between them but not in the standard sexual sense, getting their kicks on the open road in the small towns of Deep South.
It’s the youthful energy that sets this film alight, we don’t really care about what they do in the beginning, no bloods shed. They are stealing from the rich, whilst respecting the poor. In the beginning it’s just the too of them, riding the open road, enjoying the spoils in the cars that come and go like the clothes on their back. As if they don’t have a care in the world, they have their whole lives ahead of them. Before meeting their getaway driver C.W. Moss (Michael J. Pollard) who wants to share the spoils, add some excitement to his otherwise boring life. It beats the routine of adult life they are now trapped in. Are they escaping adulthood or just the responsibility of it? They are using their bodies to get what they want, becoming powerful forces in the Southern states, forcing the hand of the already stretched banks. They are unaware of the effect they are having, a danger to society, only interested in the notoriety that is produces, they relish it, they are somebody, the Barrow gang as they come to be known when they join up with older brother Buck (Gene Hackman) and wife Blanche (Estelle Parsons) who is trapped between her upbringing and obligation to her husband.
We have our outsider within the gang acting (Blanche) as the conscience of the film. Scared witless by the acts of violence that escalate, and torn by her love for Buck. Screaming at any given time, out of fear or excitement the line becomes blurred as she comes to accept her position in the gang, neither a prisoner nor a participant in the robberies. We the audience however have the choice to continue watching or turn-away. I stayed. There was too much to not ignore. I noticed that as however modern the content, the violence of the bolemic blood. It’s very classic in terms of production. The interior car scenes are all completed with front and rear projection, this could be due to budget or stylistic choices, to have a classic look, when as early as the mid-fifties car scenes were being taken to the location. We’re reminded we are looking at an artifice not reality, it shows up on-screen, yet we don;t care as we are lost in the energy and conversation of the Barrow gang. We are looking at kids, young people swept up in the moment before reality soon comes back to haunt them.
I could go on about the plot, which we all know, it is also a road trip that charts the life of these two lovers on the run from the law. They start loosing that youthful edge as the presence of the police is not far behind them. Numerous shoot-outs which I had forgotten reference films from the era, loud and messy affairs that are nostalgic for that era of film before the Hays code had been enforced on American film. It’s finally breaking free from those restraints. However as much as they are loosening there lies within a moral, that all these acts of violence will catch-up with you. As we have come to have burned in our minds, as one of modern cinema’s greatest scenes begins to unfold, bringing a close to an era in the South.
The gunning down of Bonnie and Clyde is the only scene I have re-watched away from the film, yet connected to the film is even more powerful, we’ve been taken on a thrill ride through open country, sex, violence and silliness. Reality kicks in, and orders restored in the world, our image of the film’s shattered and reformed. Violence is not a nice thing, as a mentioned earlier, it can kill with ease. The slow-motion image of their death, two dancing corpses being pumped with bullets is hard to swallow yet at the same time parodies the death scene, that moment actors relish, to leave the screen with a dramatic exit. They are also leaving life to something less exciting…death that has no escape. Driving that image home is enough to shock the audience, whilst at the same time wow them with this effect.
Bonnie and Clyde was a turning point in cinema there-after there was no point where you could go back, the fast images of death have been burned into a generation. Wanting more, seeing more on the TV at night with the Vietnam war showing death every night, when it happens everyday on our streets. Cinema had to reflect that not shy away from reality which is far darker than it wanted us to believe. It’s not even just a standard crime thriller as the characters each question their position in society, all equally “rednecks” who are fighting against the stereotype to be something more, it has a voice for the younger generation that was then still fighting to be heard against the establishment.
- Bonnie and Clyde (1967) (lecinemadreams.blogspot.co.uk)
- The Dueling Divas Blogathon: Female Rivalry in Bonnie & Clyde (1967) (thewonderfulworldofcinema.wordpress.com)
- Savage Friday: Bonnie and Clyde (1967) (reflectionsonfilmandtelevision.blogspot.co.uk)
- Film #65: Bonnie and Clyde (1967) (scottsfilmwatch.blogspot.co.uk)
I’ve been waiting to catch the Japanese remake of Unforgiven (1992), wondering how it would compare, which I can’t help but do. On the face of it these two films are the same in terms of the basic plot, the three men who ride into avenge a prostitute has been attacked. There is however more added depth to Unforgiven/Yurusarezaru mono (2013) with the added strand of their countries civil war between the now samurai and Shoshon in the 1860’s, which mirrors the American civil, I don’t remember that in Eastwoods western at all. (However I haven’t seen it in 4 years) which gives the characters more of a back-story, not just gunfighters who left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. Much the same goes for the two elder men Jubei Kamata (Ken Watanabe) and Kingo Baba (Akira Emoto) who start out on one last job in hopes of collecting the reward money. Something that Jubei has long since given up since his days of killing to survive. To raise a family and work a small farm. You could say on the surface that he is a changed man who is simply struggling to keep his family alive in the 1880’s. Whilst Kingo is willing to go on one more job.
With Jebei’s wife long dead he soon gives into his friends persuasive words, riding out a while later. Its still very much the same film, switching 19th century America for Japan, its’s that simple. Of course the dialogue is different, at times I can’t read the subtitles as some bright spark decided to make them white in a font that becomes invisible in the snow. Moving on we soon meet up with a younger man who wants to join up with the veteran swords men, ready for another killing. Even his back story is fleshed out more, finding out he is a Anui a race that the then Emperor was trying to reduce, much like the taming of the Native American over the other side of the Pacific.
Add into the mix the small town where all the action takes places we have the sherif who exerts more power than necessary. Using violence to quell violence. Much younger than Gene Hackman‘s Little Bill Daggett who mirrored by the far younger sherif who doesn’t care who he hurts, using the law to shield himself. Whilst the group of prostitutes are struggling to be listened to. You could say it’s a feminist film, but I’m not too sure, as much as there women are willing to defend themselves, they still pay for men to do the dirty work. They are hiding behind the strength of a man and his gun/sword.
I think to really compare both films I need to re-watch the original Eastwood classic to truly understand what is going on. I think there was a conscious effort to make this version stand alone, whilst the main story elements are the same, it would;t be the same without the final showdown which was shaken up and completely different. I didn’t feel the terror at the transformed man, maybe it was the snow that soften it, not as dramatic as the rain on the soaked ground. Again I have to see for myself. It was however interesting to see once more the relationship between American and Japanese cinema. Before it was Kurosawa‘s Yojimbo (1961) and Seven Samurai (1954), who influenced Sergio Leone and John Sturges The compliment is being returned from Clint Eastwood by Sang-il Lee.
Moving onto or backwards to the original as directed by Clint Eastwood I found myself understanding both in greater detail and his own observations of the western as a genre, how it formed. The violence of the west and the gunfighter which has recently seen his latest film American Sniper (2014) becoming the most successful war film of all time (probably to be beaten later his year). Focusing always on the man behind the violence, not the act itself, what drives man/person to act in such a brutal and dangerous way toward others. Scaring those around you, in order to have power, dominance, material wealth, and self-confidence.
When a man gives up that violence as we find with both Jubei and William Munny they are tamed by wires who have died by the time we meet them. Now a shadow of their former self’s, trying to do good by their family. Before we have seen the lone gunfighter’s come into town, not looking for a fight, always walking into it by the films end. Which happens here in great style. And in great tradition of the aged gunfighter Eastwood carries that on, in his last western role, becoming then too old to really so it justice. I can see strokes of El Dorado (1966), The Gunfighter (1950) and The Shootist (1976) they are no longer the young men they once were, struggling to get on a horse or even walk without some ailment holding them back. Time is their only true enemy. Munny is no longer able to shoot straight without changing weapon at least once.
The legend of the gunfighter and the west itself it question the form of travelling writer/biographer W.W. Beauchamp (Saul Rubinek) who arrives with English Bob (Richard Harris) one of the last great gunfighter’s who legend is bigger than himself. A status constructed by the writer and a lot of creative license to mythologize the untamed west, glorifying a man to become more than his actions. Creating a history that sells to the masses, attracting tourism and money. The very foundations of the genre, which can sometimes be based more on fact if in the right hands. Beauchamp spends most of his time discussing the events of English Bob’s gunfights with Daggett who puts the writers book to shame, the truth behind the legend which. The facts are sometimes harder to swallow than fictions. We discover that the man now in jail had only survived so long was down to pure luck Drawing your gun first was never a sure way to win a gunfight, it takes skill and thinking to win at a draw. Draw your gun first as your aim is not always right, giving the other a chance. Add to that the alcoholic element for Bob who is painted in a far darker insidious light, is more malicious in his killings. Not the brave man who saved the day, more of a lucky drunk who could’t stop shooting. The skill of the gunfighter in the pages of dime novels or the screen is a romanticised vision of an age of survival; kill or be killed.
This is also a macho trait which we find in the youngest of the two men in ride with Munny to avenge the prostitute. The ‘Schofield Kid’ (Jaimz Woolvett) creates his own legend, first recruiting Munny to join him on what could be an adventure, a quick job that itself had been blown out of proportion. Stating that he has killed 5 men before they start even begin, knowing his youth is holding him back to match Munny’s record which is never really totted up. A very masculine trait to “big” yourself up to look and feel better, reputation is a very important part of masculinity. This doesn’t wash with Munny who eventually joins up with on friend Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman) who then all join up. I can see even at the start, the subtle changes that were made between this and the Japanese remake to have its own identity, to not just be a scene for scene copy unlike I Died a Thousand Times (1955) which allows it to be the same in terms of structure whilst having its own identity, its own culture.
Both have these built-in myths of past fighters, with swords or guns who have had great battles which have been constructed around the events which were probably bloody and full of horror, alcohol, and fear. If you deconstruct both films down to their main points we have a male figure who has lead a violent life, which has a built in legend and reputation that others have built up and admired. Without the facts to hand we have no idea what really happened, the trauma, the horror, more importantly the shame they now carry with them. I remember from my first review a few years back of the Eastwood original I focused on how the violence in a man can be tamed or even suppressed, able to reform. Until it’s triggered we don’t know how dangerous we can still. Eastwood’s gunfighter will always be more terrifying cinematically, probably because I am a great western fan than of samurai which is almost equal in its horror of the slaughter of the men. The changing of the end is what I was most critical of, going for the sherif first was a wrong footing, the main villain is always killed last.
Whatever these two films are, they do carry on that great tradition of that American/Japanese cinematic relationship of informing each others story telling. Showing the western is not dead and both countries have very different but similar histories which at the heart of human. All cultures create legends out of historical figures from moments they would sooner forget.
- Unforgiven (2013) (disasteryear20xx.blogspot.co.uk)
- Unforgiven (2013, Japanese) (yacowar.blogspot.co.uk)
- Unforgiven (1992) (rogersworst.blogspot.co.uk)
- Sound in Unforgiven (1992) (tdf165.wordpress.com)
- 4. Unforgiven (1992) (maltinsworstratings.blogspot.co.uk)
- Unforgiven (1992) (haksreviews.blogspot.co.uk)
- Unforgiven (1992) (coffeebeancinema.blogspot.co.uk)
- Unforgiven (1992) (unitedstatesofcinema.blogspot.co.uk)