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I have not seen “The Beautiful Seven” in widescreen since I first saw it in the theatre in 1960. I have been watching it in pan & scan for about 40 years now. It is my well-liked motion recount. Seeing it in widescreen opened novel vistas for me. It finaly seems like the grand scale yet personal drama that it always deserved to be. I can greater delight in the composition of the different camera frames by noticing facial expressions and the like that have gone unnoticed for years. There is more character development here than I even imagined. There is more beauty and detail to the landscape unto which the narrative unfolds. The film has now at last taken on legendary proportions thanks to this format. Yul Brynner as Chris, Steve McQueen as Vin, Charles Bronson as O’Reilly, Robert Vaughn as Lee, Brad Dexter as Harry Luck, James Coburn as Britt and Horst Buchholz as Chico are all imbedded into the psyche of anyone who ever saw this movie and felt its emotional impact. These are exact shroud heroes.
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There is something very magical about this film. This is different from every other Western that came before it. I own it is the nature of the seven gunfighters, their motives for that one chance at gallantry and redemption. That combined with the device the anecdote is visually told makes for its greatness. It teaches us something about nobility, dignity and devotion. The hearse-ride taken up to Boot Hill with Yul Brynner driving and Steve McQueen riding shotgun sets the stage and tone for the entire film. Images such as when Charles Bronson, is curved over with a bullet inside and the three small Mexican boys clutch him crying out his name while in his death throes bring a trail to the see. In another the viewer reflects along with Yul Brynner as he takes the dreary James Coburn’s knife out of the adobe wall and folds it gently in his hand. These are heart rendering and indelible images. Even Eli Wallach as the bandit Calvera gets his moment of pathos. After being mortally wounded by Yul Brynner’s bullet, Calvera can not absorb that the seven came aid to do the village even after the villagers told them that they did not want their back anymore. “You came abet. A man like you. Why? ” asks Calvera as he dies. Yul Brynner has no respond for him. It was as if Brynner had committed some sacrilege.
Director John Sturges captured the ambiguities of the human spirit in this film. Unbiased as he directed “The Large Rush,” Sturges’ directorial style is so still that his acquire storytelling glosses honest over the depth and complexity of his contain work. The ultimate shame is that all Sturges’ profoundness is all lawful up there on the conceal. He literally outdoes himself along with a exiguous attend from Elmer Bernstein’s bag and William Roberts’ script. Bernstein’s insertion of fleet tempo snippets here and there into the get advances the film and pulls the viewer just into the chronicle with an emotional fervor along with his unforgettable main title theme. William Roberts’ script is so fat of memorable and lively dialogue that it too smoothly advances the record with ease and shear magnetism playing on our emotions.
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For me Yul Brynner was the epitome of `cool’ and aplomb. From his sad gray and shaded outfit down to the tip of his thin cheroot he was the kind of man others scrutinize up to but preserve their distance. Yul Brynner as Chris, was a man of few words and often communicated by the mere gesture of the hand. Of the seven, he was the cohesive element that drew them together simply by his demeanor. The aura of his worldliness beckoned them all to the situation he was heading. It was the same region they were all going. He was impartial the first to leer it. Brynner too was the cohesive element that kept them all together. Brynner was the one who followed some unwritten code of honor that is only alluded to in a few passages. McQueen was perfect as the gunfighter who was “unprejudiced drifting” and signed on with Brynner. The levelheaded McQueen represents the other characters’ realizations one by one as they join. James Coburn was perfect, as the stoic knife throwing Britt, who lived only for the thrill of the moment. Charles Bronson as O’Reilly played his stoically rugged but sympathetic role better than any actor could have. Bronson had a unusual visual presence whose kind facial expressions counterbalanced his pockmark face and strong physique. Bronson was a conundrum unto himself and perfect for the role. Brad Dexter’s performance as the unlucky fortune hunter has gone unrecognized. He was the least marvelous of the seven and died the mercenary that he was, yet there is some nobility to one’s profession in that. Serene, he gains our sympathy after returning in the clutch and saves his friend Chris and in turn is killed. Dying in the arms of his friend, Chris lets him go to the grave with a lie. Robert Vaughn’s character was probably the most keen of the seven. His enigmatic portrayal of Lee the tormented soul and not really the coward he labeled himself somehow never stood out. Only his act of redemption, his gunplay and death during the finale lingers. Vaughn’s portrayal is a success because as he said he was “the coward hiding out in the middle of a battlefield” and at that he succeeded. Horst Buchholz gave an energetic and bravura performance the only one of the seven that had not yet been corrupted by the world. At the slay he symbolically hangs his guns up and roles up his sleeves. Brynner and McQueen say that “only the farmers have won” and they lost. As they flow off into hide immortality I deem we all won.
Yul Brynner, encourage in the slow 1950’s, wanted to enlighten an American version of the SEVEN SAMURAI, as an western. So he bought up the movie rights. He wanted to cast Anthony Quinn in the lead, as Chris. Brynner had been directed by Quinn in the remake of THE BUCCANEER. Quinn would have been titanic as Chris, the leader of the Seven; and what a different film it would have been. But, alas, Brynner himself took the allotment, and keep his contain impress of individuality on it. He walked like a scandalous between a panther and a ballet dancer; light on the balls of his feet. Ironically, as an actor, he was plain on the contrivance, and not worn to Westerns. But artistically, this was never apparent in the finished film.
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Many of the Seven’s actors had seen the Kurosawa film, and they were very wrathful about transferring it to the American West. Eli Wallach, as Calvera, in objective a few short scenes, found both the humor and the cruelty in the bandit chieftan. His accent and speech pattern were fairly authentic; more so certainly than the young German actor, Horst Buchholz, endeavoring to score a southwestern/Texan/Mexican jabber. Director, John Sturges, had ample hopes for Horst; the camera loved him. But it was the trio of studs, Steve McQueen as Vin, Charles Bronson as O’Reilly, and James Coburn as Britt, that dominated the frame.
Steve McQueen, wearing skin-tight leather stovepipe chaps, spent a lot of time finding ways to upstage Yul Brynner. There was a rumor that he would have preferred playing Chico, the Buchholz character. McQueen’s manic physical performance, lightning rapidly with a pistol and a quip, seemed to work well for him, and it gave him more than his fragment of focus. His Vin emerged as lethal, lean, and hungry; yet weary of the gunfighter’s predicament, and envious of the simplicity and the honor of the peasants fighting for their families and their homes.
James Coburn, as Britt, was laconic and uncertain, and living on the edge of his blade; competing mostly with himself for the next gargantuan thrill. Coburn got the fragment he wanted, and though he was given minimal dialogue, his deliveries were classic. This area the mold for his future career.
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Charles Bronson as Bernardo O’Reilly, half-Irish, half Mexican, was solid as a rock; an experienced stone killer, and yet calm a soft touch for the children of the village. His death scene touched us. He found the pulse of his character, and he was both uncertain and decent.
Robert Vaughn, as Lee, seemed discouraged and lost. His allotment had been rewritten, and expanded for him. Yet he seemed ill-suited for the fraction, and the genre. Even his costume seemed ill-fitting. Share of the pickle was that his characters’ inability to participate in the first couple of firefights left us with cramped sympathy for him. Later then, in his scene with the peasants, in which he admitted his dread, the emotions seemed forced and poorly conceived. His last moment heroics and death did diminutive to balance the scales.
Brad Dexter was nearly invisible. He is the one actor in trivia games no one can remember. His character, Harry Luck, with twice the dialogue as Coburn, paled in comparison. Fragment of it was Dexter himself. He was a bland, middle-of-the-road, B-Movie heavy, and it was curious to cast him, and thrust him in amongst all of those young turks. He did a credible job, but he was completely outshined by the future neat stars.
Vladimir Sokoloff, as the village’s “customary man”, gave such a fantastic and touching performance, one did not realize the actor was not Latino. Like Eli Wallach, his talent as an actor transcended ethnic boundaries.
John Sturges, a traditional director of westerns, found honest the apt balance of action and character. Mexican farmers substituted splendid for the current Japanese farmers. And brigands, or bandits, are carve from the same horrible mold no matter what the era, or geography. Kurosawa’s classic runs like 3 hours in length, and it gave us distinguished more in-depth character development; so that when these samurai began to die, we cared about them. In 1959, when SEVEN was filmed, three hour westerns were a non-existant species. Elmer Bernstein’s musical procure was revolutionary, and its pounding stacatto beat has become one of the most recognized pieces of music ever created for film.
This western, always listed in the top 50 best westerns, is a must-see. And the DVD version, in widescreen, is crisp and positive and sparkling, and it helps us to recapture that magical feeling we had the first time we saw this film in a movie theatre.
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