Os Melhores Westerns

[ADLIZ]

Os meus preferidos são:

- O Dólar Furado

- Sete Homens e um Destino

- Jovem Demais Para Morrer

- Silverado

- Dança Com Lobos

[Thiago Araujo]

Os meus preferidos são:

- O Dólar Furado

- Sete Homens e um Destino

- Jovem Demais Para Morrer

- Silverado

- Dança Com Lobos

Meus preferidos também, alguém lembra de "Um homem chamado cavalo"???

[-felipe-]

Um artigo que achei no imdb hoje:

 

 

A bullet in the back             Nothing - not even Brokeback Mountain - can bring the western back to life. Alex Cox explains how cowboy movies were killed by the film-makers who loved them the most             Friday May 5, 2006 The Guardian             Cynical vision ... Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West. Photograph: Kobal     Some people insist the western isn't dead. It's true one seems to come out every couple of years, but they tend to be anything but classic westerns: mad, special-effects sprees such as Wild Wild West, or stories of gay love, or displays of actorly narcissism. And, with the exception of Brokeback Mountain, they are usually unsuccessful. I recently came across a couple of photographs that made me think about this genre, which has, to all intents and purposes, died, and about what killed it.

 

One of the photos was taken on the set of Pat Garrett and Billy the

Kid, in Mexico, in 1972. It shows several of the cast and crew,

including James Coburn and Harry Dean Stanton, carrying the director,

Sam Peckinpah, on a hospital stretcher. One crew member is walking

beside the prostrate Peckinpah, holding up a bottle of Johnnie Walker

Black Label. A drip feed runs from the bottle to Peckinpah's mouth.

The

other photo was taken in Italy in 1978. It shows Peckinpah (this time

dressed in a cowboy outfit), the Italian cinematographer Giuseppe

Rotunno, the big, bearded, bespectacled director Sergio Leone, and the

American director, Monte Hellman. They were on the set of China 9,

Liberty 37, a hybrid American-Italian western directed by Hellman.

What

the first picture says is fairly obvious. Peckinpah, a notorious

drinker and fighter, had sworn off booze in order to direct his

greatest film, The Wild Bunch. Now he was back on the stuff. Still

supported and indulged by those who worked for him, he was having his

photo taken to send to his hated enemies: the suits, back at the studio.

The

second picture says something more obscure. It's interesting for a film

buff because it depicts a meeting of three important directors. It's

fun to speculate on the conversation Peckinpah, Leone and Hellman - the

three great directors of anti-westerns - might have had (via an

interpreter). But did they speak? Did they get along? In the photo,

Peckinpah and Leone don't look at each other. Leone is gazing out, past

the camera, his glasses reflecting movie lights. Peckinpah is looking

at Hellman, his director. The significance of the second photograph, I

think, is what Leone and Peckinpah are doing. Neither is directing.

Leone is a visitor to the set. He has time on his hands. Peckinpah is

an actor, in a battered coat and hat, playing a supporting cowpoke in a

work-for-hire directed by a friend.

By 1978, neither had a

western of his own to make. Each would direct one more feature, but the

men who had killed off the western had pretty much written themselves

out of a job.

A decade earlier, Peckinpah and Leone directed

films that have since been canonised as classics. Not just classic

westerns, but classic films: The Wild Bunch and Once Upon a Time in the

West. Leone's grand vision - he never directed a film that didn't cost

more than the one before it - was matched with a deep cynicism

regarding the cowboy genre.

By the 1950s the western was already

in trouble: challenged by cheaper, studio-filmed westerns on TV, it had

been forced to reinvent itself several times. Westerns were made in

widescreen and in Cinemascope formats; new genres appeared, such as the

kind-to-Indians western (Apache, Broken Arrow) and the psychological

western with its noir-ish, troubled protagonist (Winchester 73, Yellow

Sky). There were also westerns as political allegory (High Noon is now

seen as a critique of the response to McCarthyism), and art-westerns

(Johnny Guitar). But none of these films matched the raw energy and

original darkness of Kiss Me Deadly or The Big Knife. Unlike the noirs,

these westerns seem dated, and difficult to watch today.

Leone

had grown up on American westerns, but the US troops who occupied Italy

during his teenage years had little in common with the chivalrous

cowboys of the films. In the early 1960s, when the Americans began to

outsource film production, one producer, Samuel Bronson, started making

cheap westerns in Spain. Leone, by then a young assistant director, saw

his chance. But his cowboy picture would have little in common with the

films of John Ford or Burt Kennedy: instead, Leone remade Kurosawa's

Yojimbo - the story of a drunken, masterless samurai who takes on two

families of gangsters.

The resulting film, A Fistful of Dollars,

was hugely successful. Predictably, Kurosawa's company sued Leone for a

share of the profits. Perhaps equally predictably, Leone developed and

expanded on this new vision of the west in subsequent films. It was a

vision permeated with corruption: towns were run by villainous

gangsters, and the desert was inhabited by murderous assassins, lying

in ambush. It was a refreshing and exciting vision, whose protagonist -

a bounty killer, played by Clint Eastwood, who executed his wounded

victims - was light years from John Wayne.

Leone wasn't the only

Italian who wanted to make westerns. Sergio Corbucci, Sergio Sollima,

Giulio Questi and many other inventive directors came up with violent

and perverse visions of the Wild West as hell. As a result of the

Italians' challenge, American directors were briefly given licence to

compete. Monte Hellman made a pair of existentialist westerns - Ride

the Whirlwind and The Shooting - that today seem arch and arty, but

were thought of then as films of great significance.

In 1968, Sam

Peckinpah - a troublesome and radical director who had fought with the

studios on another western, Major Dundee - embarked on his masterwork,

The Wild Bunch. This was western as critique of the Vietnam war. Its

protagonists dressed in US army uniforms and provoked massacres of

civilians. Invading Mexico, trying to do the right thing, they racked

up still greater inventories of innocent dead.

The Hollywood old

guard responded to the challenge with pro-war films such as Wayne's The

Green Berets, and with the reactionary Chisum, in which Wayne played a

benign, honest rancher, sympathetic to Billy the Kid. Wayne had shot to

fame in 1939 playing an outlaw in Stagecoach. By 1970 he was playing

ranchers, sheriffs and cops.

It was an interesting transition,

mirrored by a change in American society, as television abandoned loner

heroes such as The Rifleman and started depicting ranchers -

property-owning landlords such as Ben Cartwright in Bonanza - as the

good guys, rather than their humble ranch hands. In 2003, President

Vicente Fox of Mexico could say of President Bush: "We are going to

understand each other well. We speak as rancher to rancher." Ian

Vasquez, director of the project for Global Economic Liberty at the

rightwing Cato Institute in Washington, approved of the metaphor, but

added an important distinction: "It plays into their images, which are,

interestingly enough, the rancher and the cowboy ... it's a great

public relations move. Mexicans love cowboys and the US public can

identify with ranchers."

Peckinpah, on the other hand, didn't

like ranchers at all: in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid he depicted

Chisum as a manipulative rich bastard. He would have done more than

send telegrams to George Bush. But he was fighting a losing battle

against corporate media and the sands of time.

"Ranchers were the

oligarchical interest in westerns," said the writer of Pat Garrett,

Rudy Wurlitzer. "Trying to control the territory, from Shane to

Heaven's Gate. They were gritty motherfuckers. The Santa Fe Ring was a

collection of ranchers who wanted to control the territory at the

expense of the New Mexico homesteaders. They were a capitalist cabal:

totally rightwing and reactionary."

Wurlitzer wrote Pat Garrett

for Monte Hellman to direct. But after Two Lane Blacktop, Hellman had

lost favour at the studio, and the script went to Peckinpah instead. As

directors, and people, Hellman and Peckinpah were very different, but

they shared a distrust of the studios, of corporate power. They admired

outlaws.

Peckinpah, Leone and Hellman forced the western to

evolve. But they also pushed it in the direction where studios, in the

pockets of oil companies and big media conglomerates, didn't want it to

go: towards individualism and anarchy. The western approached meltdown

as a result.

IIn 1969, Paul Morrissey and Andy Warhol made

Lonesome Cowboys, the first "mainstream" gay western. In 1971, Dennis

Hopper directed The Last Movie, a fractured film about a Hollywood

stuntman left behind in a western set, in Chupadero, Peru. And in 1974,

Marco Ferreri directed Don't Touch the White Woman!, a spaghetti

western starring Marcello Mastroianni and Catherine Deneuve, which set

Custer's Last Stand in the outskirts of modern Paris. Pictures of

President Nixon appear throughout.

It was a crisis point. The

genre, which had once been a celebration of traditional American values

of self-reliance and individuality, had forked. Its reactionary

tendency - the films of Burt Kennedy and Wayne - had hit a brick wall.

Its revolutionary tendency was postmodern, respecting neither genre nor

linear narrative: the cowboy version of punk. Hollywood was wasting

money on the former, and afraid of the latter. It didn't want any more

individualism; it needed reactionary stories, with heroes who worked

willingly for the rancher, for the military, for the man. The hero was

no longer the outlaw. He was the corporate secret agent played by

Harrison Ford, the patriotic airman played by Tom Cruise. He was the

vengeful cop played by Bruce Willis, or the vengeful fireman, or war

hero, or robot, played by an Austrian weightlifter.

Oddly, John

Wayne's career mirrored this evolution. In many of the two-reelers he

made prior to Stagecoach, he played some sort of secret agent or FBI

man, sent from Washington disguised as a cowpoke to break up the

rustlers/robbers/union organisers. John Ford rehabilitated him when he

cast him as the Ringo Kid in Stagecoach. He made Wayne, for a little

while, something akin to an archetype of manly beauty and of

individualism. It was perhaps America's best vision of itself. And,

like many an ideal, it proved apt for corruption, cheap commercialism

and betrayal.

 

 

[um ninguém]

 

Meu preferido é Os Imperdoaveis.

 

Mas.. alguém ae viu a série da HBO chamada Deadwood? Talvez seja a melhor coisa de Western desde Imperdoaveis. Melhor q Wyat Earp' date=' por exemplo. Mas é meio dificil comprar, por ser uma série de 14 capitulos. Mas enfim![/quote']

 

Uh cara, li um troço numa revista elogiando muito essa série aí, dizendo tbm q é bem violento e forte... por gostar muito do gênero tenho curiosidade...

[rick blaine]

Dei uma lida no tópico e vi que ninguém citou "Pequeno grande homem" do Arthur Penn. Um filme que procura desmitificar o Velho Oeste e que, por retratar os índios de forma positiva, pode ser definido como uma espécie de precursor de "Dança com lobos".

Também destaco os westerns psicológicos resultantes da parceria entre o diretor Anthony Mann e o grande James Stewart. "O preço de um homem", "Winchester 73" e "E o sangue semeou a terra" são filmes que tiveram o mérito de criar uma nova persona cinematográfica para o ator, substituindo a antiga fama de bom moço por uma imagem mais sombria e angustiada.

[Katsushiro]

Rastros de Ódio, Rio Bravo, Homem que Matou o Facínora, hmm. fico indeciso.

[FeCamargo]

Era Uma Vez No Oeste, do Leone!

Simplismente!

[murilosimao]

Era Uma Vez o Oeste.    Um dos 100 melhores filmes da história para mim.

[jrostirolla]

Todos do Sérgio Leone...

 

Em especial:

 

- Era uma vez no oeste

- Três homens em conflito

- Por uns dólares a mais (lee van cleef!!!)

 

 

[saulomeri]

Acabei de ver Era Uma Vez no Oeste.

Ainda estou pasmo!!!!!!!!

EXCELENTE, MAGNÍFICO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Abraxas]

 

 

  "Era uma vez no oeste" O melhor de todos os tempos.Trilha sonora do Morricone perfeita também.O duelo final imperdível!.As tomadas quando Leone foca apenas no rosto das personagens demonstrando todas as suas expressões.

 Todos do Leone são fantásticos.Outros bons:

 Quando explode a vingança

 Por uns dolares a mais

 O bom,o mau e o feio.

 Curiosodade:Leone sempre aguardava Morricone encerrar a composição da trilha sonora do filme para iniciar as filmagens.Ele montava as cenas,casando com a trilha magnífica de Morricone.

 

 

[Thiago Araujo]

 

Alguém me sabe dizer aonde posso adquirir os DVDs "Era uma vez no oeste" e "Era uma vez na América"?????

Leone e Morricone são "os caras" dos "bang-bang italiano"

[Travis Bickle]

De todos que eu vi, com certeza o melhor é "Era Uma Vez no Oeste" do Sergio Leone, filme impressionante, a trilha sonora é mais do que perfeita e encaixa perfeitamente nas imagens, que também sao perfeitas...Além de ser o melhor filme do genero Western certamente consta dos melhores filmes já feitos.

[sversut]

Ok

Beleza

Já anotei aqui os principais aí citados.

Na verade tb não é minha praia Faroeste, mas se for bao tá beleza. De bao só conheço os Imperdoáveis. Não gostei de Silverado.

Falowww

[Administrator]

Chiquinho2007-05-04 23:47:47