In the wake of _The Good, The Bad and the Ugly_, at the height of his notoriety as master of the spaghetti western, Sergio Leone moved to America and intended to explore different genres. Problem was, all the major studios wanted him to continue making dusty pistol-wranglers. He obliged with this; a somber, atmospheric piece that touches all the familiar hallmarks but lacks the heart, passion and tenacity of his preceding "Dollars Trilogy."

_Once Upon a Time in the West_ depicts a cutthroat competition between a posh businessman, a nasty outlaw, two vigilantes and a widow over the development rights to a crucial piece of land in the middle of nowhere. That won't be the case for long, however, as progress demands a continental railroad and the only source of water in a fifty-mile radius lies on this property. Everyone wants a slice of the inevitable riches, if not the whole pie. Matched with a characteristically stirring, yowling musical score from Ennio Morricone, outfitted with big-budget equipment and name actors, the film is positively drenched with character. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the opening scene, where Leone wordlessly dwells on three would-be assassins as they patiently await their mark. We don't need dialog to appreciate how grimy and low-down the trio is, loose with their morals as well as their manners, and the dense ten minutes of their mini-arc wraps us up like a smallpox blanket.

In such a bite-sized dose, the restraint is delicious. Leone applies it to the entire sprawling, 160-minute film. It's all syrupy texture with very little concrete storytelling, a drastic example of mood over substance. I love the idea of Henry Fonda playing against-type as a scummy, conniving scoundrel. Charles Bronson, in a role clearly written for Clint Eastwood, deals almost exclusively in piercing squints and creepy harmonica riffs. Claudia Cardinale is breathtakingly beautiful as a recently-widowed spitfire with oodles of defiant willpower. The cast seems well-primed for a wonderful story, but instead they loiter about, rubbing elbows and making threats, while the plot rambles and sprays mundane, cryptic implications. It takes forever and it barely goes anywhere. Clearly, this is the work of a talented director who'd lost interest in making just one type of movie. I think Leone mailed it in.

The worst of the worst Leone Westerns.
Leone destroyed the Westerns with his garbage, but the blame goes on to the critics who praised his lack of motivation, lack of inspiration, lack of credibility, lack of entertainment value, lack of strategy, just a total lack.
This is the worst of his stupid Westerns. It's the most contrived of his contrived Westerns.
It's another "classical Greek hero" story of gods, demigods, and cannon fodder. The more of a homicidal maniac you are, the more of a god you are. Great message.
Here, we have a traditional Greek demigod hero who is out for revenge, the usual Hollywood formula.
He wants to kill Frank, whose only motivation is sadistic killing, because Fank killed his brother.
So, what does our traditional hero do? He kills everyone else but Frank, including men who are trying to kill Frank (Henry Fonda).
I told you it was stupid, and that there was no way to buy into the motivation for the characters.
This one is the dumbest of the dumb Westerns. What's more, it's also worse because of all the waste. Why waste actors like Fonda, Robards, Bronson, Elam, and Strode on this stupid screenplay?

**One of the great western movies.**

Western movies made in co-production by Italians and Americans (called "spaghetti-western") have been considered among the best that emerged within their genre, cleverly combining the tough action of Wild West gunslingers with the taste for raw realism and detail of the Italian filmmakers. I believe that such a thing may displease North Americans, who consider the cowboy a figure that is "true USA". I therefore invite them to visit the Brazilian city of Barretos, or the rural areas of Goiás, Mato Grosso or Tocantins in Brazil. There are plenty of cowboys there… they just lack the guns.

Sergio Leone is an unavoidable figure here, having been responsible for the greatest “spaghetti” ever made. In this film, he gives us again a remarkable job, full of qualities. I don't consider it the best of his career or the best "spaghetti western" ever made, but it definitely has a place on the podium. The film begins very well, with the massacre of an Irish immigrant and his family, which leaves in the hands of a second wife – yes, the man was secretly a bigamist – a few acres of uninteresting desert... but there are people willing to kill for it. It happens that the smart Irishman had bought the only viable land for the railroad, and had even acquired the right to build a station and a new settlement! In the middle, we still have a gunslinger in search of personal revenge and another, in the pay of the railroad itself.

Let's face things frankly: the movie is good. It's a classic in its own right, almost mandatory for any movie lover, which doesn't mean that it's mandatory to like it! It is not a perfect film, it has problems that we will talk about, but it is equally endowed with characteristics and qualities that deserve to be valued.

The cinematography is very elegant, with good light and color. The sets and costumes are beautiful, even if it is frankly difficult to set a date to the film. In addition to the fact that the script does not establish a rigorous chronology, it's clear that the concern of the production designer and costume designers was aesthetics rather than historical rigor because there is a mixture of props, clothing and objects from the 1870s, 1880s and 1860. Is it a minor problem? Yes, but it is still a problem and a sign of the carelessness with which many productions are still facing historical rigor nowadays. The visual and special effects are put to good use and the soundtrack, atmospheric and truly impactful, is one of Ennio Morricone's most powerful works. Unfortunately, the film's editing was not the best, with cuts so abrupt and violent that it almost leads one to believe that the film was cut "a posteriori" for some reason. And perhaps the biggest problem turns out to be its excessively slow and annoying construction, with each scene lasting three minutes longer than necessary and the general length reaching three hours unnecessarily.

We can only say good things about the cast: among a vast succession of unknown and unimportant Italians, there are some outstanding actors who do not disappoint us and give us magnificent interpretations. Charles Bronson is a good-hearted tough guy with a monstrous charisma that steals our attention whenever he appears. Henry Fonda is effective as a villain, showing the actor's enormous versatility. Claudia Cardinale, one of the muses of cinema at the time, combines an impressive resilience of spirit, a high dose of charisma and a beauty that is still remembered today. Jason Robards has the difficult task of being the helpful good guy who ends badly to glorify the hero, but he takes the opportunity to show all his value as an actor.

While not the greatest story ever written, this is a prime example of what good storytelling competent writers are capable of, as opposed to gimmick directors being prodded by executives to hand hold the biggest rube in the test audience. It's about as perfect an opposite example to to the clumsy exposition-dump heavy, unrealistic, and goofy dialog filling current American movies. And most of the time, that dialog, the special effects, and the frenetic editing are a cover for a story and character actions that don't make any sense.

Instead, we have a film that takes its time letting you soak in the atmosphere, the personality of the characters, and the world to which they belong, and only feeds you enough of the story at a time as is necessary. There's simply no need to front load it. If you have to do that, then your writing isn't any good. We understand these characters because they're people. They're from a different place and time, and they're a little kitschy at times, but we can relate to them, _and_ their story holds together. There's actually plenty of dialog, it's just that the story takes its time, and the shots are long and pore over the texture of the setting, the characters' weathered skin, and their body language and the minutiae of the physical actions and gestures that make these characters who they are. Silence punctuates the dialog and the violence, and makes it more impactful.

That said, the audio in these old films is terrible, and now my ears hurt because of the harsh, high pitched train whistles and gunshots. Turn on loudness equalization and turn down your higher frequencies on your EQ.

With apologies (not really) to fans who disagree, this is truly a classic western. I read a criticism that some scenes run long with agonizingly lengthy close-ups, but I found the cinematography intriguing. Those shots divulge nearly as much into the characters' personalities as close-up from older western classics featuring Gabby Hayes and Roy Rogers.

Sometimes in a spaghetti western I find myself thinking, aw, why did that innocent person have to die, but innocents did die in the old west, I imagine. I am sure there was a lot of senseless violence then, just as there is now. And Bronson seemed like an odd choice as hero to me, though who can question a director who had the instinct to make perennial good guy Henry Fonda the ultimate villain? He didn't suck in this role, did he? And at least we get some back story with the harmonica playing Bronson character, unlike with old Blondie from Leone's The Good The Bad and the Ugly.

So yeah, I think Once Upon a Time in the West is a western classic, a Greek tragedy with spurs. So shoot me (at ten paces).