The Magnificent Seven (1960)

So, I was talking to a co-worker about movies. Our tastes are different. "What'd you watch last night?" I asked. 
"Oh! Great movie! The Magnificent Seven!" 
"You've never seen The Magnificent Seven?"
 "No-oo." 
"Well, finally, we can agree on something...The Magnificent Seven is a classic!" 
"Yeah. And I lo-ove Chris Pratt!"

(Long Silence)

"What?" I spluttered. "Wha...Chris Pratt?" 
"Yeah, he's so great..." 
"You mean you're talking about that Denzel Washington mess?" 
"Yeah, he's great, too."
"No, no, no, no, no!" (I explained). "You HAVE to see the Yul Brynner version!" 
"Who?" 
"Yu...okay, Steve McQueen's in it!" 
"Who?" 

At this point, I started pulling what's left of my hair out—not to try and explain Yul Brynner, of course (Good thing I didn't lead with Horst Bucholz or Brad Dexter) and explained in the most condescending way possible that if she didn't see Charles Bronson in it, it just isn't The Magnificent Seven. 

I wonder if she ever did.

The Magnificent Seven (John Sturges, 1960) Sturges' remake of Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai as a Western (more accurately South-western) with cowboys (more accurately gun-slingers) is a rousing crowd-pleaser (while still maintaining the original's final resigned tone). This is not only due to Kurosawa's indestructible original tale of warriors from a by-gone age quixotically trying to save the residents of an agrarian town from bandits, but also for the charismatic cluster of stars vying for screen-time with "The King" himself, Yul Brynner.* Steve McQueen, coming off the "Wanted: Dead or Alive" series was particularly shameless about trying to grab the spotlight from Brynner. 

"It doesn't bother me," the older actor would tell Sturges. "All I have to do to upstage them is take off my hat."

In this version, it's a Mexican village being robbed by bandito's led by Eli Wallach's Calvera that cause a trio of farmers to go searching for "gun-fighters"  (they are told that gun-fighters are cheaper than guns) to take on the thieving gang. One by one, the odd troop are assembled including up-and-coming stars McQueen, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, James Coburn, Brad Dexter and Horst Bucholz,** all pistolero's down on their luck and taking on the job—for their various reasons, be it bravado, assumed reward, paternalism, loyalty—until something better comes along. It's a dangerous temporary job, so the stakes have to be personal, beyond the measly compensation for the task. They are all aware that the risk to themselves is high, but not as much as the risk to the farmers.

Each of the seven have their reasons, but each of them have their own style of combat, making the final assault on the town (after a couple of skirmishes and a temporary change of fortune) that much more dramatic as each gun-fighter has to fight their own battles in their own individual style. And it doesn't matter what style they use...they always seem to do it cool.

When one compares the Kurosawa original with Sturges' adaptation, one notices a big difference—Nature. Sturges' stage is a big blue-skied sand-blasted valley-scape that doesn't much change and makes no impact on the outcome, whereas Kurosawa staged the original's dynamic set-pieces in a violent rain-storm, increasing the odds and making them more mythic, with the Heavens themselves having a stake in the conflict. Kurosawa wasn't complaining, though. He reportedly liked the American version so much he presented John Sturges a ceremonial sword.

Momentum is kept up by some sharp writing (by blacklister Walter Bernstein and Walter Newman, both credits replaced after much bickering about changes made on set by William Roberts) but also by a rousing Copland-esque score by Elmer Bernstein*** that manages to goose the action up several notches from how it's paced on screen. This might be sacrilege to say (as the score is so iconic and tied to the movie as much as a pack of Marlboro's), but it's almost like Bernstein is trying too hard in places, as when the theme thumps along when Chris (Brynner) and Vin (McQueen) are riding a buckboard to a confrontation.

Curiously the pacing is a bit slower when the words stop and the action begins, but one hardly notices when Bernstein is controlling the tempo.

The transition (and translation) from Japan to Mexico is a bit seamless, despite the lack of atmospherics, and just as the Samurai have their distinct characteristics, so, too, do the gunfighters--only Horst Bucholz, given an outlandish billing in retrospect, fails to rise to the potential of the others. The genius of the film is Kurosawa's, but this Americanized version still has its own unique charms, enough to make The Magnificent Seven a huge success in its own right. A couple years later, the same tack was used to create a westernized version of Kurosawa's Yojimbo,**** and launched the "Spaghetti Western" and the career of its chief architect, Sergio Leone.


The Magnificent Seven was voted into the the National Film Registry in 2013.

* Brynner cut such a fine figure as a gunslinger (despite his Russian heritage—his character's ethnicity was explained away as "Cajun") that he came back for the first sequel The Return of the Seven, and was the emblematic robot shootist in Westworld and its sequel Futureworld.

** The closest I could come to finding a movie that had so many future stars (and Brad Dexter) in it is Francis Coppola's The Outsiders.

*** Bernstein's theme became known as "The Marlboro Theme" because it was used as the background music for that brand's (now extinct) cigarette commercials. The prolific Bernstein (no relation to Leonard) only won one Oscar for his music--for the musical score to Thoroughly Modern Millie.

**** That would be A Fistful of Dollars, starring Clint Eastwood.

***** The film's story would be used...again...as A Bug's Life. And, anyone remembering Roger Corman's Battle Beyond the Stars will see more than a resemblance to The Magnificent Seven (beyond just the casting of Robert Vaughn).