WEST SIDE STORY

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Adam Driver, Ansel Elgort, duel, dueling, film, history, Jousting, Matt Damon, Medieval, movie review, musicals, Rita Moreno, West Side Story

Saw newest version of West Side Story and liked it. Different and grittier than the Robert Wise version, but Maria and Tony are wonderful—all of the characters more accessible. The dancing and choreography was not as sharp without Robbins at the helm, especially when it comes to Bernardo, David Alvarez, who has a great screen presence and remarkable eyes. But it’s cruel to compare any male dancer with the WWS ’61 fire eating Shark, George Chakiris.

The script is more attuned to reality, brutal at times, and the cinematography brilliant in some spots. I heard on NPR a LAT reviewer say he was not impressed with Ansel Elgort, but I thought he was wonderful. It was widely known that Wood hated Beymer, and I think that came through in the “61 version. Not so this time. The chemistry between Ansel Elgort and Rachel Zegler is sweet and charming, their times on the screen a necessary, stark contrast to the explosive violence of the gangs.  

 I did prefer the ’61 version of the Gee, Officer Krupke, which is my favorite song and showcased the incredible Russ Tamblyn. The LA reviewer didn’t sound that pleased about adding Moreno to the story but her character works well with the Spielberg vision of showing the futility inherent in racism and gang violence, which is celebrated more than decried in the ’61. The I Feel Pretty scene is better in this newer one, a larger group of women and a much better vocal rendition.

Speaking of grim and violent stories, I’ve included the review of The Last Duel, which was written while my laptop was in the shop getting upgraded.

THE LAST DUEL

Historians are not in agreement when it comes to the incredible story of Marguerite de Carrouges and neither is the content of this film, which is written in three different perspectives. Affleck, a writer of one of the chapters, commented that it wasn’t so much about historical accuracy as it was about the era. If you recall the story of Heloise and Peter Abelard, when they got caught she was sent off to a nunnery and he was castrated. How’s that for romance in the time of chivalry.

Rape was a serious business back then, and even though chivalry was touted, the practice of it was most likely different from the actuality. This was a brutal time, cruelty a way of life. This rendition takes the side of Marguerite, accepting her accusation as the truth. Her husband, De Garrouge, (Matt Damon) had an unpleasant, contentious personality. Her assailant, Jacques Le Gris, (Adam Driver) comes down through time as a burly, bullying egocentric adept at court politics. It was recorded that Le Gris protested his innocence on the field in front of many witnesses. This is no surprise. Consider the fact that he was Catholic. Some would suppose his firm belief in his innocence could be a sign of a clean soul. I keep in mind that according to his religion, all he had to do was confess to a priest and do his penance to be utterly cleansed of any wrongdoing.

About the movie, it’s never boring, even when the events are repeated. The two most dynamic events, the rape and the duel, are not accurately portrayed. The rape itself from court records was far more vicious and brutal than the screen version. Fine by me. What was filmed was violent enough.

There are witness accounts from attendees at the duel. The enactment as done in the film was INMH the best route to go. Jousting and hand-to-hand fighting with sword, ax, or any form of mace is dynamic and terrifying. Imagine the impact of that lance coming at you with the impetus of a charging horse trained for the task. The horse was not doing all the work. These combatants were scary tough. I’ve lifted chain mail. The one I picked up was 35 pounds. Medieval mail weight 45 to 50 pounds. Add plate armor on top of that from head to toe. Knights and other vassals fought with close to a 100 pounds of weight, a sword almost as long as their height, or some other form of mace, and a shield. If that wasn’t enough to handle, the crusaders had to endure desert heat baking inside a metal oven and did so for hours.

Conclusion: I really enjoyed this telling of a passion-wrought bit of history. But due to revisionism, especially in the church’s point of view, and the fact that there is little written for, by, and about women in that time period, history itself cannot provide a definitive recounting. This film leaves us to make up our minds about whose version is the truth. If you prefer less cerebral and more action, stay to the end for the duel. Brutal is nowhere near how combat was done in the not so romantic Dark Ages. Director Ridley Scott brought it back to the present.

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Blog: https://historyfanforever.wordpress.com/

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ACES & EIGHTS

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Calamity Jane, Cody, cowboy, Deadwood, duel, guns, Hickok, lawman, Wild Bill

Legends of larger-than-life personalities often evolved from a shred of trivia blown so far out of proportion that the eventual celebrity ceased to resemble the original. Not so with Wild Bill Hickok. He was the real deal.

Born in 1837, James Butler Hickok was an Illinois farm boy. His parents were Baptists and abolitionists, his father killed for his abolition activities. Young James dreamed of adventure on the other side of the Mississippi while he hunted on the farm, gaining a reputation for his shooting skills.

He left home at seventeen, worked on the Illinois and Michigan Canal, then moved westward as a stagecoach driver, where he achieved recognition as a marksman. He had jobs as a Pony Express rider and Overland Express. While working as a station manager, he became nationally famous for surviving and shooting down three attackers, not the last time he would come out on top when out-numbered.

In Missouri, he signed up with the Union Army as scout and spy, which is where he picked up the name of “Wild Bill” from breaking up a drunken mob fight, something he excelled at and often did as a lawman. A relieved onlooker mistook him for someone else and shouted her thanks to “Wild Bill” and the name stuck. Hickok had no fear of greater odds but knew when to back down, but it took a cavalry troupe to do it. (More on that later.)

Tall, graceful and elegant for a tough westerner, Hickok kept his hair long, wore expensive shirts and boots, carried a fancy six-shooter and a knife tucked in a sash. He added to his income with gambling and liked women, getting involved duels that ended in the deaths of his rivals. Even though a hard-liver, he had respect for the people who hired or voted for him. While a lawman in Abilene, one of the roughest cow towns, the citizenry were appalled by the rude wall signage of Phil Coe’s establishment that featured a bull’s overwrought appendage. Hickok bought a bucket of paint and stood guard while the offending artwork was covered up.

For all his mistakes, Hickok was a fearless opponent, no matter the odds. While working as a marshal in Hays City. Tom Custer, a cavalry officer of the doomed 7^th, (yes, George’s brother), liked to shoot off his pistols, ride into saloons and jump his horse onto billiard tables. Hickok got tired of Tom’s belief that his actions were above the law. He arrested Custer and fined him. Tom Custer got three friends to jump Hickok, who shot one of his assailants, and scared them off. Cowardly Tom later retaliated by rounding up the 7^th to shoot down Hickok, who wisely took a fast train out of town. For me, this incident pretty much illuminates the caliber of character of the Custer boys.

Hickok had a long friendship with Bill Cody, perhaps starting from when Hickok recommended Cody for a job with a railroad contract outfit, who needed hunters to supply buffalo meat to the rail workers. Cody later hired Hickok as a part of his shows, but Wild Bill didn’t do well in the entertainment world.

There’s a sadness in Hickok’s eyes. I suspect it stems from an incident—one where Hickok was again in a shoot-out against greater odds. The tragedy unfolded as he was breaking up carousing drovers. Phil Coe, a love-affair opponent and owner of aforementioned nasty sign, was with the carousers and called Hickok out. In the mayhem, Hickok shot Coe in the stomach, heard footsteps coming up behind him and turned to shoot down his own deputy. His life went downhill from that point, in health and finances.

In 1876, he married an older woman, Agnes Lake Thatcher, who had been following him around for years. They honeymooned in Ohio where he left her to try his hand at mining, joining a wagon train west. This is when he met Martha Jane Canary, Calamity Jane, who claimed a romantic connection that by all accounts never existed. Her lifelong infatuation with him was so entrenched that she asked to be buried next to him. They did have a friendship, perhaps due to their shared interests in boozing and hard living. Both were also staunch protectors of the underdog and willing to help anyone in need.

Hickok was only thirty-nine when he died—the famous incident in Deadwood—where he was shot in the back, holding the bad luck card hand of black aces and eights. The night before his death, Hickok was winning and Jack McCall losing. Hickok, always one to feel sorry for anyone down on their luck, gave McCall enough for breakfast and suggested the man should not play cards while drunk.

Furious and humiliated, McCall returned to the tavern the following day, drinking again. Hickok’s usual seat against the wall had been taken, which allowed McCall to shoot Hickok in the back. The miners of Deadwood, and most likely those envious or with a grudge against Hickok, allowed the murderer to go free, when McCall said he’d shot Hickok for killing his brother. McCall moved westward, where he bragged about shooting down Hickok. Lawmen took exception to his bragging, arrested him, learned McCall never had a brother, and hanged him.

Hickok’s poignant and haunting last letter to his wife reads as if he had a premonition of his death. Or he was tired of living hard and fast. Hyperbole and exaggeration were part of what was written about gunfighters, but when it came to James Butler Hickok, his short life endures larger than his legend.

M.L Rigdon (aka Julia Donner)

Follow on Twitter @RigdonML

Website http://www.MLRigdon.com

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Julia-Donner