Sunday, January 19, 2014

Review: The Magnificent Seven (1960)

The Magnificent Seven? More like The Middling Seven. This overlong western is as dry and empty as the desert it's set in.

This Americanized version of the 1954 film Seven Samurai takes place sometime after the Civil War somewhere in the Southwest. Wandering this mysterious setting are equally mysterious cowboys, bent on protecting a small Mexican village from dastardly banditos.

With an all-star cast and snappy plotline, The Magnificent Seven could have been a tight, entertaining actioner. Instead, it's a scenic snoozefest. You know your movie has a problem when the music has more personality than the characters.

Nothing is truly terrible about The Magnificent Seven. It's just plain forgettable. It's likely to blow through viewers' minds like tumbleweed across hot earth. Except tumbleweed probably moves faster.

Which brings us to The Magnificent Seven's biggest flaw: its painfully slow pace. A half-hour could be cut from this movie, and absolutely nothing would be lost.

A few things save the film from total mediocrity. One is the formidable cast. Even though there's not much to their parts, actors like Steve McQueen, Robert Vaughn, and Charles Bronson offer up cool, intense, and sympathetic performances.

But it has to be asked: Why is Yul Brynner playing a cowboy? The Russian-born actor is incredibly out of place here, a gun in his hand and spurs on his boots. At least he has a commanding presence.

Even more commanding are the sights and sounds. The movie mostly takes place in the village, a dusty little place filled with charming cottages. Though they are obviously sets, they're thoughtfully designed, looking wonderfully lived-in. And while the landscape's colors seem oddly dulled, they still provide the vast scope needed for any old-fashioned western. In such a story, the bigness of the desert can add a sense of wild adventure. The Magnificent Seven does not forget this.

It's also full of traditional masculine toughness, though that's strangely juxtaposed with muddled messages about the downsides of living dangerously. Those warnings are set aside often for terrifically choreographed shootouts. But the most impressive technical element -- indeed, the most impressive element of the whole movie -- is composer Elmer Bernstein's score. From the opening credits onward, it bounces along with a triumphant melody, as if it's trying to celebrate the film before it's even begun.

Nice try, Bernstein, but you can't fool me. The Magnificent Seven is not worth the hat on Brynner's shiny bald head.

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