Dustin: Welcome to another edition of “Spoiler Warning,” where today we have representatives of the good and the bad, but sadly, we're fresh out of ugly. You, on the other hand, can decide who's good and who's bad -- my cohort Adam P. Knave or yours truly.

Adam: I think that is a sucker bet, man. Come on. When I first agreed to this, I told Kirkbride I was either Bad or Ugly depending on which of my ex’s you ask.

Dustin: Okay, given that I'm willing to say you're bad AND ugly -- how's them apples?

Adam: Works for me. So, I want to get one thing out of the way first -- let's just cut to the nit and the grit say I. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Best traditional western ever?

Dustin: Yes, I'll give it that but not without asking the question... "traditional"? Can you really call a western shot in Italy with 90% Italian actors and a 100% Italian director "traditional"?

Adam: Traditional in story, time, mood, and such. And I'd argue that some of the best traditional takes on a genre happen by people who didn't invent it. Preacher, the comic, being an amazing modern western and yet written by someone viewing it from the outside. It lends a perspective that might be key to achieving that goal. (Non-traditional best of course is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but that's a different review)

Dustin: Right! And I suppose that there's a point to be made that the de facto "owners" of tradition -- in this case, Americans -- are probably more prone to take something that's all theirs and try to "re-invent" or over imagine it, thus making it something completely alien and usually awful. So yeah, there's probably a good reason that Sergio Leone's little work paints the best picture for us.

Adam: Exactly, also being the third of a loose trilogy helps. He'd had time to build up the process and the rules of his system and refine it. Fistful of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More were both great mind you, but they really serve best as lead-ins to this monster of a film.

Dustin: Okay, so for those of you that haven't ever seen this masterpiece (what the hell is wrong with you, go rent! Now!), the plot breaks down thusly: three guys with guns -- Blondie (Clint Eastwood), Tuco (Eli Wallach), and Angel Eyes (Lee Van Cleef) -- find out about a pile of stolen money that's been buried for safe keeping, except no single one of them knows all the details about the location. The result is a movie filled with uneasy partnerships, quick betrayals, some severe ass kicking, and very infrequent bits of mercy as the three try to score the prize for themselves. As you've already pointed out, it's the third of a trilogy basically in terms of a character, but it should be noted that there's not a direct plot connection.

Adam: Eastwood, though known as Blondie in this, is also better known as The Man With No Name, due to his appearing in all three of the "dollars" films. Which is the closest you come to a link between them.

Dustin: And this is arguably the project that really broke Eastwood out and got him some visibility and momentum. His bigger roles like "Dirty Harry" were still years away, but this was his "hey, look at this guy!" pic.

Adam: Yeah, before this he was that guy who wasn't the Duke in a lot of ways. Known but not a force. After this he was Eastwood, and he's held that up ever since.

Dustin: Which is really astounding, given how little ANYONE speaks in this film, save for Eli Wallach's character, whom you desperately want to shut up at times.

Adam: Ha! Yeah, you do. But Leone, I would argue, does that on purpose. The speech is limited and sparse, but when someone does speak, it means something. This isn't Chris Tucker and Vince Vaughn here. These are tough men who are stoic and don't need to tell you how badass they are. They show it to you. But how long into the film before a single line is spoken? Ten minutes?

Dustin: You know, it might very well be. My question to you is this: Does it take a better actor and/or director to successfully pull something like that off, or do you think that dialogue driven projects are harder because you have to work that much more on interpretation?

Adam: Silence is the hardest thing to capture on film now, I would say. It forces the actors to really get into the minds of a character to sell it with every inch of their face, body, and mind. Words can be spoken and intoned, and you'll forgive a bored face and think it adds layers. But if it is JUST a bored face, then that is what you take.

Dustin: Yeah, I agree with that... which is why it's effective to use a lack of dialogue to build tension in an otherwise chatty flick, but the fact that it comes off so incredibly well, ESPECIALLY since there's also a lack of pretty scenery or other visual effects, is pretty amazing. And I'm a total whore for pacing as well, and there were still very few spots in this very long film that I was itching to do something else while watching.

Adam: Well, yeah, but how much of that is simply that you are trained now to expect something every ten pages of a script? I don't disagree, mind you, I just wonder how much is a lost art of settling and letting a pace be something different. I don't know. I've been showing a friend some old films, and the pacing is so vastly different than you can get away with now. It's something I know I fight in my own writing. I love long slow shots that take five minutes to build to a crescendo. But they get axed.

Dustin: Yes, and that's a shame. There have been many times during the course of talking about movies that D.J. and I have lamented the "speeding up" of society, as it were. Anything that's not chock full o' cuts and lots of motion doesn't hold our attention, and ignoring the general principle of the sheer awfulness about that right now, it usually spells doom for older films. And again, the fact that this one's about three hours, pretty quiet, and looks very similar throughout, is a testament to its durability.

Adam: Yeah. Well and let's unfairly compare it to another traditional western at the top of its genre: The Seven Samurai. Also three hours long. Very similar in a lot of ways. But the durability and strength of both is astounding. They literally do not make them like these anymore.

Dustin: Moving on to another interesting (to me) point -- I think it's kind of hysterical that all the Italian actors are of course dubbed into English for our benefit, but yet they can act better and convey emotion better than many actors working FOR an English speaking audience. Then again, you could say that it's a testament to the voice work of the dubbing actors, but I think that it's also noticeably reinforced by the Italians’ emoting.

Adam: Well, the Italians, to push a stereotype, are known for emoting, aren't they? And the dubbers... voice actors, that's the title, right, are also strong, yes. But I'd agree. The Italians are just hellishly strong about getting it across. Now do you think they worked harder for it knowing it would be dubbed?

Dustin: It's possible that Leone had them work with that in mind, but for the sake of theatrical innocence, I think that they're all just really good.

Adam: And of course going right back to the lack of dialogue. It had to work in their favor as well. Which brings me to something I'd love to gush about a second: The score.

Dustin: Oh, please -- gush away.

Adam: It was just so inventive and lush. It became a character in the film. And living in a world of the same four notes and Danny Elfman beats, it brings me great joy to listen to someone devoted to inventing a sound for a specific film like that. Uhmmm, Ennio. Ennio Morricone! I salute you!

Dustin: And it had been such a long time that I'd forgotten about little things about that musical character, those two notes of "woo-ee-oo-ee-oo," like that it not only underscores cold-as-ice moments of Eastwood's character, but when there's something shocking, it becomes a dramatic sting sounding like a person yelling. That personifies the score as much as anything. Damn fine nuances.

Adam: Makes me wish I had a good sound system to turn it the hell to ELEVEN on. Let it overpower me. But alas and alack, I cannot. Still, if you can do it, do it.

Dustin: Before we wrap up, I've got a deeply philosophical question for you: Eastwood versus Yul Brynner. Two men walk in; one man walks out -- who's it going to be?

Adam: Oh that isn't fair. Is it Robotic Yul Brynner from West World?

Dustin: Hmmm... there's a lot of disparity between that and his character in The Magnificent Seven, isn't there? I guess for the sake of continuity (as we've “Spoiler Warned” West World before) we'll go with America's favorite killer robot.

Adam: Well, then I have two answers for you! Answer one adheres to your exact question: Eastwood walks out. After he finds out Yul is a robot, he goes to town with a rock and his boots. Yul just repeats "draw" and gets destroyed. Answer two, however, comes from the gut: Eastwood and Robotic Yul Brynner walk into a room. Two men enter. Who leaves? The Sundance Kid, if either of them were moving targets.

Dustin: There's a point to be made somewhere in there that Eastwood has gone on to somehow transcend mere mortality, though. Like, can human beings get THAT grizzled and still qualify as being human?

Adam: Have you seen him recently? He looks like Skeletor, which answered a few questions for me at least.

Dustin: Oh my God, if he would play Skeletor in a new live action He-Man movie, I would be the first in line to buy a ticket. On second thought, I reserve that call until I see who'd be playing Man-at-Arms.

Adam: Vince Vaughn.

Dustin: Hell, then forget it.