The real "Fifty Shades of Grey" film: the trenchant chessboard separation btw good & evil is here superseded by progressive grisaille of worseness. Who fumbles to the neutral end of spectrum does so in inverse proportion with their capacity to intervene. Bleak & tightrope tense, DotO shuns nihilism - the ethos of an active life goal-impregnates a useful death due less to communital fever than unexpected philadelphia.
This film is a gem that most people don't know about. Burl Ives (the Big Country) with yet another outstanding performance. Robert Ryan is also very good with some strong supporting acting from Tina Louise. I can't imagine that movies that depict this kind of sexually oriented violence were very popular at the time this was made but De Toth (director) got away with it. Fine film.
Really a wonderful western. Incredible shots that create and maintain moments of tension throughout. Huge overarching sensation of suffocating sense of separation. Quite the view of humanity as it pertains to nature looming in on it brought together with even the empty walls seeming to loom in on the cast. Had some small issues with some of the cast and moments that seemed a tad rushed. Great otherwise.
Burl Ives plays a well-written character and performs it wonderfully. The film has some un-usual for the time long takes, and some awesome long pans, particularly the Dance scene which Bertrand Tavernier has pointed out before (see "Fragments" by de Toth, preface). I really enjoyed the last 12 minutes-briliant b&W cinematography in the snow-with a killer soundtrack!My appreciation of de Toth just keeps growing.
Exemplary for a B movie director's ability to marry economic storytelling with visual poetry to the utmost efficiency. Even the obvious difference in the lighting quality between interior staging and photography in the open adds to its surreal stylization. All in all a little miracle in mise-en-scène.
Harsh inversion of High Noon. Ascends into a blinding wilderness with its gunslinger twilight tropes before dissolving and pulling back to an unsatisfying conclusion, but not before issuing the cry of the individual against history in a way that echoes in Peckinpah and resonates in the hallucinatory angst of Corbucci's Il Grande Silenzio. The life of a genre must pass and when it passes the end must take place.
In my opinion, the less renowned of the revolutionary westerns, a masterpiece that foretells the spaghetti wave and Clint Eastwood's crepuscular work. This is a Greek tragedy in black & white and in the snow, regulated by by Alexandre Courage's great musical score. Indispensable.