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Unforgiven
(1992)  
Review
On
the surface, this grim, stripped-down western seems like a logical
continuation of all previous Clint Eastwood westerns – and a very good
one at that. Unforgiven is enjoyable and dexterously told,
with a harrowing opening, a profound character study, and an intricate plot
in which the outcome never seems predictable, despite Clint's
presence. That Bill Munny easily could have been an ageing, retired
Blondie from Leone's
trilogy, 20 years later, places the film within a timeline
and a thematic progression. But the film's portrait of the west has more
in common with Lonesome
Dove than with Leone's films. The only difference is that where Lonesome
Dove has a romantic view of the west, Unforgiven is on the
other end of the scale.
From the engaging story arises an
ambiguity and moral discussion that deglamorises westerns and their heroes
completely. In Unforgiven, the gunfighters aren't the
ever-hitting, invincible killers from the myths and legends, and
Eastwood spends time pointing out the difference between the gunfighter hero worship
(which started
during this period) and his own rendition of life in the west. Eastwood
is more preoccupied with the concept of death than most, and he
desperately wants to comment on the undermined position of the concept of death in
traditional westerns. 'Why would death be less horrible in the 1880s?',
he asks and accompanies the question with a look into how death
affects people – not only from a point of view of vengeance. And the
finale, while ostensibly familiar within the genre, invites an array of
readings – on the thought-provoking ambivalence of winning and losing,
on how the lost
souls of the west couldn't escape their identities, or detach themselves
from the society that produced them. Unforgiven is a pessimistic
tale, but at the same time filled with warmth and compassion for its
characters – who, in turn, come in every shade of grey.
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