For all the attention lavished upon its grandiose gunfights and its memorable score, Leone’s famous film always wins me over with two understated scenes. The first reveals the enduring bitterness that emerges from a lifetime of sibling rivalry and resentment when Tuco and his brother, Pablo, confront one another after years apart. Pablo chastises his brother for his impious lifestyle, his eternal estrangement from their family, and his shameful absence at their father’s funeral, which took place only a few days before. Tuco responds with equally harsh words deriding the convenience and cowardice buried underneath Pablo’s childhood choices. Through his callous comments, Tuco reveals that Pablo’s departure felt more like a desertion, leaving Tuco as a child without adequate resources or proper guidance, and thus unable to combat the responsibilities of adulthood without taking criminal short-cuts. Their volatile encounter ends in an unsurprising torrent of aggression and violence, further illustrating Tuco’s audacity and deterioration, but also revealing Pablo’s recognition of his own conceit and arrogance.
The scene that immediately ensues is almost the polar opposite in tone. In a film that so often amplifies its actions and dwells on discord, Leone is smart enough to recognize his central characters sometimes require a brief beat of tranquility and harmony. As Tuco and Blondie depart their saintly sanctuary, their awkward and temporary alliance is reinforced by a brief moment of bonding as Tuco beams with pride while boasting of the eternal compassion his brother, Pablo, constantly exhibits towards Tuco. Unbeknownst to Tuco (though Eli Wallach’s acting is skilled enough to convey the possibility that Tuco is aware that his appalling prior actions were quite public), Blondie has been privy to the preceding events that tumultuously ended in humiliation for both brothers, yet he gives his companion no indication that he has witnessed such disgrace. Instead, Blondie allows Tuco to retain whatever remaining dignity he might still desperately cling onto and offers his cohort a pull from his cigar as a sign of their fleeting equality and brief bond based upon their mutual knowledge that they have chosen a life of isolation.
Such interaction between the two men is a welcome relief and a dramatic deviation from the constant cruelty both men exhibit towards one another throughout the majority of the film. Thus, Leone provides us with a glimpse of the humanity both men might still possess if their lifestyle didn’t require them to be so ruthless. If there is a better scene at demonstrating the unspoken respect men possess for their fellow man, but are not allowed to openly acknowledge, I have yet to watch it.
by Chiranjit Goswami | Source: MGM Collector’s Edition DVD
31 Aug 2007 6:34 PM | Comments (1)
Nicely stated Jit. Another scene that just slays me is when Eastwood covers the dying soldier with his coat and offers the soldier drags off his cigar. The way Eastwood holds the cigar right up to the soldier’s mouth is very tender, and he looks ready to do it as many times as needed to ease the soldier’s pain. I guess this scene is a corollary to the earlier scene with Tuco in many ways, as it is also about dignity and equality amongst males, and the unexpected need for a cigar to ease such awkward moments.
jason
2 September 2007
2:23 PM
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