by Oscar O’Sullivan

Monday – His Name Was King and Joe Kidd

It’s easy to be romantic about a genre when all you’ve seen of it is the best examples. Is it strictly necessary to dig into the cast-off excrement of the medium? Once in a blue moon, maybe. Even a turd can contain something of value – just ask Quentin Tarantino, who snatched the title song of this film to use in Django Unchained. This is boiler-plate stuff, a stoic cowboy hero hunting down the bandits who killed his brother. King is probably even too stoic, giving off a distinct impression that he doesn’t care one way or another about anything that’s happening, which doesn’t exactly make for rousing stakes. He’s also entirely upstaged by Klaus Kinski as the austere and regal sheriff, a character with no purpose in the story until the very end, but whose interludes are more entertaining than the pointless adventures of King himself. 3/10.

Standard doesn’t always mean bad though, if it’s executed well. Joe Kidd doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel with its premise – a rancher is hired by a rich man to hunt down a bandit gang over a land dispute. Clint Eastwood is comfortable in his usual persona, disaffected and aloof, not bothered to dirty his hands until his own life and livelihood are on the line. When he does spring into action he’s as invincible as you’d expect, if not more so, running circles around the army of goons as he mows them down with their own weapons. Punchy action and a cast of memorable side characters give that much-needed bump of excitement to a straightforward story, even if the unfulfilled potential of the story is clear – director John Sturges wasn’t up to the challenge of battling Eastwood on set, turning an ensemble story with a political angle into a pure Eastwood star vehicle, for better or worse. 8/10.

Tuesday – High Plains Drifter

Tired of being handled by inconsistent directors, Clint Eastwood made the decision to cut out the middle man and direct himself. High Plains Drifter is his first self-directed Western, a spiritual sequel to his ‘Man With No Name’ trilogy that pushes the cynicism into full-blown nihilism. The mysterious drifter has no hidden heart of gold in this story – he’s a revenant, a merciless force bent on revenge. When he agrees to protect the small town from three vengeful crooks, his motives are far from altruistic. Indeed, he treats the people to a torture far worse than what he’s meant to protect them from, reigning over them as a sort of mad dictator – commandeering their resources and forcing them to prepare for an elaborate defence that involves tearing down a barn, holding a picnic and literally painting the town red. If this sounds cruel then worry not, because the people of this town absolutely deserve what they get. A community of selfish hypocrites who stood by and watched a man be whipped to death because it suited them to, only a handful are able to muster up the moral fibre to exempt themselves from judgement. As the fateful battle draws nearer the madness that grips the town seeps into the film’s visuals too – particularly striking are the nightmare flashbacks to the old marshal’s death and the grand finale, where the town is transformed into a pitch-black void illuminated by hellfire and Eastwood is seen only as a shadow, faceless and silent as he hands down his final judgement. 10/10.

Wednesday – The Outlaw Josey Wales

Eastwood set the bar high for his Westerns with High Plains Drifter, then somehow immediately surpassed himself with this follow-up, The Outlaw Josey Wales. Appearing at first to be a more conventional film than the dark and esoteric Drifter, the saga of Josey Wales unfolds in spectacular fashion, blossoming out into an emotionally-driven epic that demolishes the image of the unfeeling antihero to tell a story of love, loss and redemption. Already comfortable in his abilities as a director, Eastwood here decides to stretch himself as an actor, breaking through his own limitations to embody the most three-dimensional of his cowboy heroes thus far. Having Eastwood break down in tears before the opening titles is a shocking sight and a clear statement of intent – the stoic cynicism of Josey Wales is a front, a defence mechanism he cultivates after the death of his family. It’s also never fully successful – he can’t help but grow fond of his naive young companion Jamie, lightening up as he gets to know him better and clamming up again when the kid dies of his wounds. The last Confederate holdout after the war ends, Josey is hunted down by the same Union bushwhackers that murdered his family. Despite having the perfect revenge thriller setup, the film becomes an odyssey across a land in turmoil, with Josey inadvertently gathering a following of survivors and outcasts in his wake. From the impish but wise ‘Civilised Indian” Chief Dan George to an unfortunate family of Kansas pilgrims who need rescuing from slavers, Josey grouses and groans about their presence but is too noble deep down to let them fend for themselves – before he knows it, he’s become the guardian angel to an idyllic commune in a remote place untouched by the war. Realising he doesn’t have to run anymore, but still too traumatised by his past to accept it, he seemingly leaps at the chance to escape his dilemma by dying in a blaze of glory against an army of Comanche warriors. But once again, Eastwood subverts his own image – facing down the Comanche chief and dozens of warriors, he puts his faith in words instead of pistols, delivering a rousing monologue on the ability to choose peace over war even if you know you’re going to win. That’s the film in a nutshell, a parable on the futility of all wars, both national and personal, the fighting man finally putting away his weapons and returning to a natural life. It’s action-packed, well-paced and devilishly funny, occasionally bleak but ultimately heartwarming, the human spirit shining through and putting the world to rights. 10/10.

Thursday – Django Unchained

Was Quentin Tarantino the right man to tackle institutional slavery and race relations? No. Was he the right man to deliver a stylish revenge thriller where the scum of the earth are eviscerated for our viewing pleasure? Most definitely. Django Unchained is a film with three distinct sections. The first third is a goofy genre throwback, Tarantino flexing his well-honed plagiaristic skills to recreate the vibes of a 1960s Italian Western. It’s flashy and it’s fun, a light-hearted jaunt through the American South where racism is a comical inconvenience for the absurdly virtuous Dr King and his fast friend Django. The groundwork is laid for the plot to come, but it’s an episodic adventure otherwise, a chance to get to know these two characters before their journey into the heart of darkness. Candyland is where the film takes its first sharp turn, the cathartic action of the bounty-hunting intro replaced with the horrific brutality of the plantation, serving up some of the nastiest images Tarantino has ever conceived – it might be the only example in his filmography of violence that isn’t intended to be enjoyed. The tensions between our heroes and the too-friendly Calvin Candy (Leo practically begging for an Oscar that didn’t materialise) become almost unbearable as the film’s portrayal of racism also evolves – from comical old-timey ignorance to sickening rants about skull-shapes and genetic servility. When that tension finally boils over and the film explodes back into action, we enter the third and final phase, a triumphant revenge fantasy where Jamie Foxx takes charge and does what we’ve been praying for him to do all along – gun down hordes of racist scum with a smirk and a one-liner. The middle section is the most complete and compelling portion of the story, but it also elevates the ending, which would feel rushed and hollow without the deep hatred we’ve developed for Django’s foes, and the affection built up for him and King in the breezy opening. Taking it any more seriously would have been a mistake for Tarantino, whose interest still remains in the visceral energy of the story rather than any real sociopolitical views, but the subject matter inevitably tempers the intended enjoyability. As good a version of this idea as he could possibly have made, 9/10.

Friday – Weird: The Al Yankovic Story

I’ll admit it – I’m a fan of Weird Al Yankovic. I even saw him in concert in Dublin when he was only playing his non-parody songs. Realistically I should be the exact target audience for this film, a tongue-in-cheek origin story for the artist that sees him dating Madonna, battling the cartel and being shot to death in 1985, scored by some of his biggest parody hits. And it’s good, it is, it does what it sets out to do – the problem is that another movie already did that and did it better. Now it would be ridiculous to claim that a movie perfecting a certain type of story means it should never be told again, but Walk Hard perfected the premise of a parody music biopic so utterly and singularly that even non-parodical biopics are living in it’s shadow. And Weird: The Al Yankovic Story isn’t doing a whole lot to set itself apart from its obvious inspiration. Every joke it makes about the biopic formula has been done to death before, with the best material here being the flights of absurdist fantasy and the deep-cut gags about Al’s work and career. The fact that it’s an approved biopic of a real man also hurts it’s irreverent tone a little – it’s safe, approved irreverence, and Al is well able to poke fun at himself, but there’s a genuine reverence beneath it all that makes you feel as if you’re being advertised to. Then there’s the song choice – the film cuts off very early in Al’s career, using less than dozen of his early major hits and no deep cuts or cult favourites, which seems strange when the target audience is clearly dedicated fans. It feels sparse and predictable, with songs only being used in diegetic performance scenes – why not lean into the comedy and score the film with dramatic remixes a la Elvis, or transform the hits into show-stopping choreographed musical numbers like the underrated Rocketman? I’ll tell you why – this is not a real movie. It’s a feature-length YouTube skit, literally and figuratively. Flat shots on obvious sound-stages give the whole production a real rinky-dink feel, despite some real effort going into key sequences – a nightmare drug trip where Al writhes in a CGI factory before emerging from a giant egg to unleash ‘Eat It’ upon the world, a charmingly animated flashback to his father’s Amish roots, and a competent John Wick-style action scene where Al takes on kidnappers in a diner. The abundance of celebrity cameos does little to offset the cheapness of the production, especially since they blow their load in the first half and leave the second feeling incredibly small, like Daniel Radcliffe playing dress-up for his own entertainment. All this negativity aside, the movie is quite funny, mercifully brief and overall enjoyable despite the mundanity – I do wonder if it holds any value for an audience unfamiliar with the intricacies of parody music history, but those people aren’t likely to click into it in the first place. 6/10.

Saturday – Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story

If you haven’t seen this musical masterpiece, you are missing out. The music biopic to end all music biopics, Walk Hard predates the current Hollywood craze for the genre by a good decade-and-a-half, proving that the formula has always been well-worn and plain to see. A decades-spanning account of the life and times of a fictional rock-and-roll star, it grabs moments from every famous music story of 20th Century – Johnny Cash’s marital troubles and stint in prison, Elvis’ controversial sexual stylings and destructive lifestyle, the political activism of Bob Dylan, the creative breakdown of Brian Wilson, every possible trial and tribulation is tossed into an improbable pot and stirred until the ridiculous becomes the sublime. Cox also runs into a comical number of (intentionally miscast) music legends, whether it be opening for a belligerent Elvis Presley or dropping acid with The Beatles in India where he observes that ‘a rift appears to be forming’ as McCartney and Lennon get into a physical brawl. The comedy doesn’t pull any punches, joke after joke landing like haymakers as the film keeps you constantly on the ropes with its seemingly endless reservoir of gags. The second front on which the film strikes is the music – once again aping the styles of real music icons, the soundtrack is nothing but wall-to-wall bangers, hilarious lyrics propped up by genuine musical mastery and the exceptional vocal chops of lead actor John C. Reilly, perhaps the most under-utilised of the 2000s comedy stars, who plays Dewey Cox as earnestly as if he were playing Frank Sinatra. That’s another secret to the film’s success – despite the overtly parodical nature, there is still a genuine sentimentality to the story, a beating heart of emotion that is only elevated by the absurdity of everything surrounding it. When the elderly Dewey hobbles out on stage to perform his final masterpiece, a straightforward ballad titled ‘Beautiful Ride’, that’s exactly what the film feels like – a madcap journey through the life of an extraordinary man, a joke-a-minute comedy that presents itself so seriously you might actually wonder if it’s joking at all – criminally underrated, a movie I’d recommend in a heartbeat to almost anyone. You can watch it on YouTube for free – no excuse now, hop to it. The easiest 10/10 of my life.

Sunday – Zatoichi and the Fugitives

We rejoin our old friend Zatoichi in yet another scuffle with Yakuza in a helpless village. This time, the blind swordsman has been taken in by a kindly doctor, played by Kurosawa regular Takashi Shimura, a benevolent figure who looks out for Zatoichi despite disapproving of his Yakuza lifestyle. He has good reason for his disapproval – his own estranged son is a wanted man, on the run with a gang of outlaws after killing a man in Edo. This outlaws happen to be hiding in the town at the same time as Zatoichi arrives – inevitably he draws their ire and is forced, once more, to fight for his life against every sword in the village, not to mention the knives and guns. The story may not be anything new (after seventeen outings you can only expect so much) but it’s a strong telling of it, with a memorable cast of friends and foes, as well as some expertly-staged action and a jaunty score, with prancing woodwinds and bold, brassy horns, and the welcome recent addition of the Zatoichi theme song making its third appearance in the series. This entry also has some of the most painful-looking injuries in the series. While not as spectacularly gory as Outlaw, there’s more blood than usual and a distinct focus on pained expressions after the blows land. Even Zatoichi isn’t safe from the agonies of this entry, taking a bullet to the shoulder that he must then dig out with his own sword, before spending the rest of the film visibly in excruciating pain – though it doesn’t slow down his sword skills one bit. Zatoichi has well and truly found his groove at this point, though I’m hoping for a couple more big surprises in these last few. 8/10.