Unforgiven (1992)
“That's right. I'm just a fella now. I ain't no different than anyone else no more.” – Will Munny
Unforgiven explores the descent of the western legend, William Munny, into the Everyman, and his inability to escape the woes of his past; both his violent history and his late wife haunt him. After decades of alcohol-fueled slayings, Munny found a woman to cure him of his wickedness and domesticate him to ways of family life. Now alone with two young children, Munny is compelled to pick up arms again and collect a bounty that would ensure a better future for his children. William Munny represents the demythologized West: a reality inhabited by a legend that has descended into a sympathetic civilized man, but is compelled through a series of inescapable events to reconstruct the demons of his past.
There are few films that work so perfectly for me as Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. The film lingers with an impending sense of dread as events unfold. When the tension finally breaks during the final confrontation between William Munny and Little Bill, what follows is, for me, one of the most powerful, revealing moments in cinematic history. The tight cinematography, Eastwood’s haunting monologue, and a climax of narrative irony culminate in a timeless message about morality and violence that transcend the Western genre, while simultaneously paying tribute to Western films of the past.
The most interesting aspect of the film for me deals with the construction of the Western hero and the embellishment of history; the troubled formation of myth and legend. The topic of mythology is vividly explored through the character of Mr. Beauchamp, a pulp novelist who recounts the exploits of famous gunslingers. When first introduced in the film, he is writing the biography of English Bob, who is beaten and imprisoned by Big Whisky’s sadistic sheriff, Little Bill. During this time, Little Bill comically reads excerpts from Bob’s biography. Bill informs Beauchamp that most of the stories Bob had been telling him were greatly exaggerated and the truth was much less noble and more pathetic. At this point, Beauchamp switches allegiances to Little Bill, whom he now perceives as the more talented gunman. Beauchamp represents the theme of mythologizing the past in a way that appears morally motivated, honorable and, especially, entertaining. Although Little Bill condemns English Bob’s interpretation of events, it is implied that Bill’s stories are no more authentic. Beauchamp’s reading of the Western hero is effectively challenged in the final scene when William Munny usurps Little Bill as the most gifted gunslinger. Beauchamp is instantly fascinated and quizzes Munny about the specifics of the shootout. Munny explains, “I was lucky in the order.” Unfortunately, luck and coincidence do not facilitate an interesting tale, and this contradicts Beauchamp’s notions of chivalry in gunfights.
William Munny’s code, itself, begins as a product of his wife’s influence: she “cured him of drink and killing.” Although the film begins after and she has passed, the weight of her impact on Munny can be constantly felt. Whenever he feels threatened by the consequences of alcohol or violence, he reflectively cites the calming influence his wife had on his careless nature. Even when sick with the flu Munny, refuses a sip of whiskey to kill the cold. He realizes that even a taste of the drink might rekindle the cold-blooded reckless man that he has hid away. Prior to marriage, Munny was without code, loyal only to his partner Ned and unafraid of lawmen and outlaws alike. He killed because he was drunk and he lived without purpose. His wife gave him purpose and code, at odds with his violent nature. It is significant that later in the film, when Munny once again transforms into the alcohol-fueled killer, he does so with a sense of personal justice that was lacking in his younger years. And after the vengeful deed is complete, the film’s final scroll suggests Munny moved to San Francisco to pursue a peaceful life with his children. His transition from outlaw to dry goods is a hopeful one, although his new acceptance of civilization is in stark opposition with his violent past.
When his longtime companion, Ned, is tortured to death, Munny is left with very little opportunity to reflect upon these sentiments or the consequences to his reformed moral state. Like “The Man With No Name” who came before him, Munny simply exhibits the cold-bloodiness of a killer and avenger. There is no emotion in his face when he appears in the saloon to exact his revenge. The frame focuses on his cold staring eyes. Emotionless, like the stranger of Leone’s films, Munny speaks simply through his stare. This makes the killing of the unarmed Skinny (the owner of the saloon/bordello who “decorated” the front of his establishment with Munny’s friend) all the more startling. “He should have armed himself then,” Munny responds. Before Munny delivers the coup de grace, Little Bill protests, “I don’t deserve this, to die like this…” Munny, with his cold glaring eyes again filling the screen, clarifies, “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it.” Deserve has everything to do with it, and that is precisely why Munny was unable to escape his final confrontation, not only with Little Bill, but with the cold-hearted murderer that he will always carry around inside of him.
As Munny’s departs Big Whisky after the massacre, we are left with Beauchamp chasing shadows from one mythology to another. Thus, the study of mythology itself deals in conflicts. The old gunfighter with his code is in conflict with the mythology of the new civilized West that no longer has a place for the talents of vigilantes. The conflict exists between not only the gunfighter and the lawful citizen, but between the individuals themselves. These men leave behind an old age where what you do typifies you, and enter a new world where what you feel or express typifies you; a world that has no place for a bunch of wild outlaws or a man with no name.
Unforgiven explores the descent of the western legend, William Munny, into the Everyman, and his inability to escape the woes of his past; both his violent history and his late wife haunt him. After decades of alcohol-fueled slayings, Munny found a woman to cure him of his wickedness and domesticate him to ways of family life. Now alone with two young children, Munny is compelled to pick up arms again and collect a bounty that would ensure a better future for his children. William Munny represents the demythologized West: a reality inhabited by a legend that has descended into a sympathetic civilized man, but is compelled through a series of inescapable events to reconstruct the demons of his past.
There are few films that work so perfectly for me as Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. The film lingers with an impending sense of dread as events unfold. When the tension finally breaks during the final confrontation between William Munny and Little Bill, what follows is, for me, one of the most powerful, revealing moments in cinematic history. The tight cinematography, Eastwood’s haunting monologue, and a climax of narrative irony culminate in a timeless message about morality and violence that transcend the Western genre, while simultaneously paying tribute to Western films of the past.
The most interesting aspect of the film for me deals with the construction of the Western hero and the embellishment of history; the troubled formation of myth and legend. The topic of mythology is vividly explored through the character of Mr. Beauchamp, a pulp novelist who recounts the exploits of famous gunslingers. When first introduced in the film, he is writing the biography of English Bob, who is beaten and imprisoned by Big Whisky’s sadistic sheriff, Little Bill. During this time, Little Bill comically reads excerpts from Bob’s biography. Bill informs Beauchamp that most of the stories Bob had been telling him were greatly exaggerated and the truth was much less noble and more pathetic. At this point, Beauchamp switches allegiances to Little Bill, whom he now perceives as the more talented gunman. Beauchamp represents the theme of mythologizing the past in a way that appears morally motivated, honorable and, especially, entertaining. Although Little Bill condemns English Bob’s interpretation of events, it is implied that Bill’s stories are no more authentic. Beauchamp’s reading of the Western hero is effectively challenged in the final scene when William Munny usurps Little Bill as the most gifted gunslinger. Beauchamp is instantly fascinated and quizzes Munny about the specifics of the shootout. Munny explains, “I was lucky in the order.” Unfortunately, luck and coincidence do not facilitate an interesting tale, and this contradicts Beauchamp’s notions of chivalry in gunfights.
William Munny’s code, itself, begins as a product of his wife’s influence: she “cured him of drink and killing.” Although the film begins after and she has passed, the weight of her impact on Munny can be constantly felt. Whenever he feels threatened by the consequences of alcohol or violence, he reflectively cites the calming influence his wife had on his careless nature. Even when sick with the flu Munny, refuses a sip of whiskey to kill the cold. He realizes that even a taste of the drink might rekindle the cold-blooded reckless man that he has hid away. Prior to marriage, Munny was without code, loyal only to his partner Ned and unafraid of lawmen and outlaws alike. He killed because he was drunk and he lived without purpose. His wife gave him purpose and code, at odds with his violent nature. It is significant that later in the film, when Munny once again transforms into the alcohol-fueled killer, he does so with a sense of personal justice that was lacking in his younger years. And after the vengeful deed is complete, the film’s final scroll suggests Munny moved to San Francisco to pursue a peaceful life with his children. His transition from outlaw to dry goods is a hopeful one, although his new acceptance of civilization is in stark opposition with his violent past.
When his longtime companion, Ned, is tortured to death, Munny is left with very little opportunity to reflect upon these sentiments or the consequences to his reformed moral state. Like “The Man With No Name” who came before him, Munny simply exhibits the cold-bloodiness of a killer and avenger. There is no emotion in his face when he appears in the saloon to exact his revenge. The frame focuses on his cold staring eyes. Emotionless, like the stranger of Leone’s films, Munny speaks simply through his stare. This makes the killing of the unarmed Skinny (the owner of the saloon/bordello who “decorated” the front of his establishment with Munny’s friend) all the more startling. “He should have armed himself then,” Munny responds. Before Munny delivers the coup de grace, Little Bill protests, “I don’t deserve this, to die like this…” Munny, with his cold glaring eyes again filling the screen, clarifies, “Deserve’s got nothing to do with it.” Deserve has everything to do with it, and that is precisely why Munny was unable to escape his final confrontation, not only with Little Bill, but with the cold-hearted murderer that he will always carry around inside of him.
As Munny’s departs Big Whisky after the massacre, we are left with Beauchamp chasing shadows from one mythology to another. Thus, the study of mythology itself deals in conflicts. The old gunfighter with his code is in conflict with the mythology of the new civilized West that no longer has a place for the talents of vigilantes. The conflict exists between not only the gunfighter and the lawful citizen, but between the individuals themselves. These men leave behind an old age where what you do typifies you, and enter a new world where what you feel or express typifies you; a world that has no place for a bunch of wild outlaws or a man with no name.
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