Dernier recours

This movie is a Gangster remake of Clint East Wood's A Fistful of Dollars which is a Western remake of Yojimbo which is a samurai adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's The Red Harvest. When adapting the first time Akira Kurosawa changed the amount of gangs involved from 4 to 2. Every version since then has had only 2. The Continental Op, The Man With No Name, Mifune's Samurai, and Bruce Willis's John Smith. All Nameless. All working all sides to their own end.

As this is the only gangster version of this story, I like this movie very much, though I would like to see a more accurate version of the Red Harvest. When deciding who should play the Continental Op, none come to mind more than Bruce Willis, which of course brings me back to liking Last Man Standing. Not as pretty as those that came before, but pretty cool.

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery - When the Last Man standing first came out, it was hard not to make the connection between that film and Yojimbo (since Yojimbo's script was credited -although not the original source for Yojimbo, an American crime novel, red Harvest, by Dashiell Hammet - Yojimbo's Kurosawa also forgot to credit in his film). But even a critic as astute as Roger Ebert only thought the film was only 'similar' to "Fistful of Dollars" even though the plots of the two films have more in common than that of this film and Yojimbo.

Since then, I have watched all the films several times. Now is as good a time as any to reflect on the matter again.

The Last Man Standing does not hold up as well as I had hoped; the saturated sepia tones of the film now appear to be a mannerist affectation. It was certainly a transitional film for Willis - the role is pretty heavy - but the Sixth Sense rewrote the book on Willis far better than any of his other off-cast roles could, since (unlike the others) it never made any pretense at being an action film. The voice over is a little pretentious. And its clear that Hill let the Gothic tone of the film overwhelm his efforts at black comedy. And oddly enough, despite its violence the film could use more action.

Yet the film remains historically important, if nothing else, because it now appears to have been the last of a cycle. Although even Jean-Claude Van Damme actually appeared in a "Yojumbo" clone - "Desert Heat" - and there have been other attempts to revive Hammett's essential narrative (e.g. the "Doom" robot film by Albert Pyun) the fact remains that the nameless outsider quick on the draw is fast slipping into the realm of pure 20th century myth. He doesn't really belong in the era of Computer graphics, invasions of Iraq, wars against non-existent terrorism. His blood is part whiskey, but it's human blood; and he may be a killer, but he won't be a party to genocide. He's too real, and yet too good, for the 21st century rushing in on us.

I take the darkly sepia-toned Last Man Standing as a final farewell to a hero of the previous century, just as Hitchcock's 39 Steps effectively said farewell to the romantic adventurer of the 19th century. Every era has its heroes; and it is sad that Sanjuro/John Smith/the Man with No Name can no longer be one of ours. It's probably too much to ask, but hopefully someone better - or at least as good - will come along.

-E. J. Winner.

This one is a cult classic that while formulaic, still manages to engage and keep the viewer captivated. Filled with old west clichés, yet set in the Prohibition Era, the six shooters have been replaced with 1911's, and the horses with Model Ts. Exaggerated impacts, and body reactions to getting shot, coupled with the never ending supply of ammo that only rarely needs to be topped off, do get annoying. Yet, somehow, the viewer is still sucked into this modern take on Clint Eastwood's classic, A Fistful Of Dollars.

The editing, dialogue, cinematography, music, direction and acting are all top class. Everything is fantastically overblown but never preposterous. As for the film itself, it is very empty but the mood and tone are so very distant and weird, and I totally love it. Walter Hills direction is a well balanced cross between Sam Peckinpah and John Woo. And Cooder's score will transport you right into the movie even on it's own. Of course the film has its faults, there are very few films which posses non. For example Christopher Walken's character, Hickey is built up in his absence throughout the first third of the film as being the ultimate bad guy, however when he does actually appear he is a little tame. In fact he even tells Willis's character, Smith, not to believe all the bad things he has been hearing about him. Perhaps he is the anti-villain to Smith's anti-hero.

All in all, it's a film which is definitely worth seeing, even if you are unfamiliar with either of the two previous versions of the story.

Overall rating: 7 out of 10.

Last Man Standing is directed by Walter Hill who also adapts the screenplay from a story written by Ryûzô Kikushima and Akira Kurosawa. It stars Bruce Willis, Bruce Dern, William Sanderson, Christopher Walken, David Patrick Kelly, Karina Lombard and Ned Eisenberg. Music is by Ry Cooder and cinematography by Lloyd Ahern.

Walter Hill's variant on Yojimbo, plot basically sees Willis as drifter John Smith, who after arriving in the dusty town of Jericho, promptly sets about making some serious cash by playing the town's two gangs off against each other. Smith is one tough hombre, a deadly pistoleer who has a fear of nothing, which is why the two respective gang leaders want him to work for them. Noses get put out of joint, blood flows, scores settled and a anti-hero is born, complete with permanent scowl and dry narration.

The look and sound is terrific, Cooder's pessimistic twangs are all over the plot, while the visuals dovetail between sun-baked landscapes and the misty lensed ghost town of Jericho. Hill brings his trademark stylish violence into play, with slow-mos and rapid fire shoot-outs impressive, while his skill at creating an antique atmosphere is very much in evidence. Unfortunately the narrative isn't up to much, it lacks scope and characters merely exist, making this very much a style over substance exercise. It also means that much of the cast are given only morsels to feed on. A shame when you got Walken and Kelly on overdrive when on screen.

It's an odd blend of a Western with Prohibition Noir characters, but it's unmistakably a Walter Hill film. For his fans there's enough to like about it whilst accepting it's a bit of a throwaway on the page. For the casual crime/action film fan, however, it's likely to be much ado about nothing. 7/10

This brutal Walter Hill pic has one of the best beatings ever burned to celluloid. It is so brutal, in fact, that the victim (Bruce Willis) looks like Jason from "Friday The 13th" once his attackers get done with him. Even better, he then lurches around like Rondo Hatten in "The Creep Man" plotting his revenge.

The film's final action scene is an awful, indescribable mess, and I have always wondered why Hill and usual editor Freeman Davies opted to construct it this way. It is a shootout presented in a series of dissolves, and it just doesn't work. Hill has always been an adroit director and editor of action, and his fine work has a precision to it that this sequence lacks. Perhaps the camera negatives were damaged or the studio ordered a truncation. Whatever the reasons are for this flawed sequence, it, unfortunately, turns a great movie into a good movie.

The opening sequence, replete with Ry Cooder's smooth scoring, is poetic and beautiful; Willis's arrival in town is directed with skill and energy; and cudos are also in order for the scene in which the first shot is fired and a stuntman is sent flying through a door into the dusty street outside.

Christopher Walken is fantastic as the violent enforcer Hickey, and it is great to see David Patrick Kelly back on the screen as the malicious Doyle.

There are many standout sequences and much to enjoy. Willis's solitary siege of a brothel, for example, is classic Hill stuff in terms of its staging, unapologetic brutality and superb cutting.

That the film is a remake of a remake is of no consequence to me. It is still a rousing, spare piece of masculine entertainment with a whiff of Peckinpah, a dash of Kurosawa, and a splatter of Corbucci.

That ain't no bad thing.