Review by Frank Plowright
Amazing Améziane has definitely found a niche with his series of graphic novels taking an illustrative approach to the biographies of film directors, and now settles on the Italian director who filmed in Spain to revolutionise that most American of genres, the Western.
Améziane sets out his credentials for being the person to provide the biography via an introduction noting he’s watched The Good, the Bad & the Ugly more times than any other movie, and follows it with some widescreen spreads of the title credits, leaving no doubt of a labour of love. Unlike the subjects of Améziane’s previous biographies, Leone didn’t work in the USA until late in his life, and so information about his first career steps isn’t such common currency in English.
As with his earlier work, Améziane has the director narrate his own story, pulling quotes from articles, interviews and books, and presumably extrapolating a little around them. Leone’s early days differ greatly from previous subjects, being the son of a noted film director whose career dived when he took a stand against the policies of dictator Benito Mussolini in the 1920s. It means Leone’s isn’t the traditional path of a kid with ideas attending film school. Instead he worked on films being made by Americans in Italy, the famous chariot race in Ben Hur being among his credits.
It’s the Westerns, though, on which Leone’s reputation rests, re-formatting the traditional ingredients in a grittier way and emphasising Ennio Morricone’s iconic scores. Améziane has Leone explain in detail just what made his Westerns the giant step forward including the framing, the realism of dirt and grime, the minimal presence of women and the concentration on slight facial expressions. There’s also a wealth of anecdotes down to the start of Leone’s first Western, for which Clint Eastwood, supplied his own costume and props from his days on TV show Rawhide.
Améziane’s eye for well composed illustrative images disguises he’s not always the best with likenesses. His Eastwood would be recognised without the context, but the same can’t be said for Lee Van Cleef or Eli Wallach. There are also stories repeated, such as Van Cleef’s reluctance to hit a woman despite the film calling for it and a willing victim. Otherwise, letting Leone largely tell his own story has considerable benefits. He’s not short on opinions, although some are easily challenged, and it’s surprising to learn that while accorded worldwide acclaim from the late 1960s, some Italian critics never lost their distaste for his films.
Because Leone’s filmography is relatively small, toward the end Améziane is able to dip into what might have been, with extensive sequences on films and TV series never made. The departures from Leone’s own narration are largely other directors talking about his work and influence, or in the case of Sam Peckinpah about the poor behaviour of another director.
Once again, anecdotal, engaging and enlightening, Sergio Leone: The Revolution of the Western continues a fine series to grace the library of any film fan.
