The Great Silence (1968, Sergio Corbucci) (Patreon)

55/100

[SPOILERS]

Powerhouse ending, but not the kind that reverberates backwards. It's just unexpectedly, almost sadistically grim/cynical—A Fistful of Dogville, minus Grace's justified anger. And then Corbucci dilutes that short sharp shock with expository contextualization! ("Today, we call them massacres.")* Still, the hopelessness, combined with Kinski's atypically restrained sociopathy—love the bit where Loco/Tigrero politely declines to be provoked into drawing first—does make memorable what's otherwise, in my opinion, a largely unexceptional Spaghetti western. Very, very, very few actors can create and sustain a character via sheer presence, given little else to work with; Trintignant has a magnificent face, but Eastwood or Bronson he simply ain't. Silence isn't so much an iconic character as an embodiment of mute decency, destined to be no match for the bounty killers' casual corruption. No quarrel with that message, especially given how belatedly it's delivered. I just wish the body of the film were remotely as bold and compelling as its conclusion—that it sang more. (Didn't love Django, either, so maybe I just don't click with Corbucci. Also, as I've noted before, Italian films from this era tend to frustrate me with their non-sync sound; Kinski's performance here, in particular, suffers from poor dubbing. Props to Trintignant for finding a unique way out of that dilemma.) A year from now, all I'm likely to remember, apart from the final scene, are shots of horses trudging across a snowy landscape, accompanied by Morricone's lush score. 

* Can anyone name a film that's improved by non-comedic closing text? Offhand, I can't recall ever finding it other than neutral or detrimental. Kinda ruined Zodiac for me, frankly.