THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN COLLECTION: Blu-ray (Mirisch Co./UA, 1960-72) MGM/Fox Home Video
It is a rarity in Hollywood that any movie reboot made
from an original – much less, of foreign extraction – should arguably best its
predecessor. And yet, quite simply, John
Sturges’ The Magnificent Seven (1960) does just that: a revisionist
western, based loosely on Akira Kurosawa’s justly famous samurai epic. In
transposing the action from Japan to the old west, screenwriter, William
Roberts – with uncredited assists by Walter(s) Bernstein and Newman – manages to
reinvent, and yet, retain Kurosawa’s principled intellectual discussion about
the sovereignty of man’s faith in himself and his sense of belonging to a
community greater than his own needs. Initially, Yul Brynner approached indie-producer,
Walter Mirisch with this high concept to ‘update’ Kurowasa’s classic. Alas,
after Mirisch acquired the rights from Japan’s Toho Studios, finalizing a
distribution deal with United Artists, Brynner was sued for breach of contract
by actor, Anthony Quinn, who claimed he and Brynner had evolved the concept before
the two suffered a professional falling-out. Ultimately, Quinn lost in court as
no paper trail emerged to prove his claim. But the path by which The
Magnificent Seven would eventually reach the screen was, as yet, very
winding, and with numerous roadblocks yet to be conquered. For kick-starters, associate
producer, Lou Morheim had commissioned blacklisted writer, Walter Bernstein to
produce a ‘faithful’ adaptation of the original, authored by Shinobu Hashimoto,
Hideo Oguni and Kurosawa. The blacklist aside, as Bernstein might have
continued on under a pseudonym (as was readily done in those days), the
creative waters were further muddied after Mirisch and Brynner took over and
brought in Walter Newman to rework the material. Newman’s extensive rewrites
helped to reshape the material – largely – into what eventually was seen up
there on the screen. Alas, he proved unavailable for rewrites on location. And
thus, Roberts was employed, in part, to adhere to various alterations required
by the Mexican censors. Regrettably, when Roberts petitioned the Writers Guild
for co-credit, Newman demanded his name be stricken from the record.
As with any ensemble piece, casting proved integral to
the picture’s success. Sturges was enthusiastic about Steve McQueen with whom
he had just worked on 1959’s Never So Few. Regrettably, McQueen was unable
to secure his release from actor/producer, Dick Powell’s TV series, Wanted
Dead or Alive. Rumored on the advice of his agent, McQueen staged a car wreck,
thereafter insisting a back injury and whiplash precluded his continuation on
the popular series. Granted time to ‘recuperate’,
McQueen quietly signed on to The Magnificent Seven instead. Initially,
Yul Brynner did not take kindly to McQueen’s casual ‘bits of business’ (playing
with props, even during scenes in which his character was meant to appear as
mere background. Nevertheless, a quiet respect brewed between Brynner – who eventually
came to admiring McQueen’s clever scene-stealing, and, McQueen, who considered
Brynner one of the genuine titans in the industry – having straddled the chasm between
two medias: television and the movies. Meanwhile, James Coburn – a great
admirer of Seven Samurai, joined the cast on the recommendation of former
classmate, Robert Vaughn, already hired to play Lee – the traumatized mercenary
and expert knife thrower. Mirisch liked, and signed relative unknown German
actor, Horst Buchholz as Chico, the fiery shootist, with other leads rounded
out by Charles Bronson (Bernardo O'Reilly, the professional in need of money)
and Brad Dexter (Harry Luck, an outright fortune hunter). Bronson’s quality as
the stoic loner, not to mention his uniquely angular and muscular features, had
served him well. For the part of the notorious Mexican bandito, Calvera,
Mirisch made the rather unorthodox decision to cast Eli Wallach. The actor’s
screen debut in Elia Kazan’s Baby Doll (1956) had won him a BAFTA for
Best Newcomer and a Golden Globe Best Actor nomination. Afterward, Wallach
would offer something of a reprise, or perhaps ‘variation’ on the character
first fleshed out herein; later seen as outlaw Charlie Gant, in the all-star
Cinerama epic, How the West Was Won (1962) and later still, in Sergio
Leoni’s spaghetti western classic, The Good, The Bad and the Ugly (1966)
as – what else? – ‘the ugly’: Tuco.
With very few exceptions, The Magnificent Seven
was shot on location in Mexico by cinematographer, Charles Lang, in 35mm
anamorphic Panavision. Cuernavaca, Durango, and Tepoztlán served as the rugged
terrain for this masterpiece of manly confrontation, while interiors were made at
the Churubusco Studios. At the outset, the tension between Brynner and McQueen
was palpable; the latter, mildly displeased that his character had a scant
seven lines of dialogue in the original shooting script. Determined to
distinguish himself in scenes in which he neither spoke nor had any particular
reason for existing – except as ensemble eye candy - McQueen exploited every opportunity to upstage
Brynner, who possessed the lion’s share of screen time, by drawing attention to
himself; a slight gesture to shield his eyes from the harsh noonday sun with
his Stetson, or by casually tossing a coin into the air during Brynner's
lengthy monologue, or even rattling shotgun shells. Only a half inch taller
than McQueen, Brynner built up a tiny mound of earth to stand on when both
actors were in a two-shot, only to return moments later and discover McQueen
had sneakily disturbed and flattened his pile. Despite McQueen’s subtle jabs
and grandstanding, Brynner remained a true professional on the set. Hence, when
a story leaked in the press, suggested he and McQueen were at each other’s throats
on the set, Brynner issued a public statement, “I never feud with actors. I
feud with studios.”
The last integral element to The Magnificent Seven’s
enduring success was its orchestral theme; composer, Elmer Bernstein writing
one of the most iconic main titles in movie-land history and thereafter, to be
endlessly reused, lampooned and reinstated in everything from a defining cue at
Disneyland’s Big Thunder Mountain theme park attraction, to as spoof on
TV’s popular sitcom, Cheers (1982-93). Bernstein’s main title, with its
explosive burst of three drum chords leading into a heart-pounding clash of cymbals,
remains instantly identifiable. It would also come to typify a sort of rugged
manly grace and honor among these mercenaries, intent on restoring law and
order in a small and war-ravaged Mexican enclave; mostly, to their own detriment.
Immediately following this exquisite opener, with blood-red titles plastered
across a backdrop of mesas, dust-laden in the sun, we are plunged into a
perilous confrontation between Calvera and the inhabitants of a poor Mexican
village. Calvera and his desperadoes raid the villagers for their last vestiges
of food and supplies. A defiant villager
pays for his outspoken condemnation of Calvera with his life, leading the
village sage (Vladimir Sokoloff) to pronounce an unofficial end to Calvera’s reign
of terror. Prepared to barter for their salvation, three villagers, Sotero (Rico
Alaniz), Tomás (Pepe Hern) and Miguel (Natividad Vacío) are entrusted with
crossing the U.S. border to procure guns to defeat Calvera in an ambush.
Observing, Chris Adams (Brynner), a Cajun gunslinger,
defend himself against several adversaries during the burial of an Indian in a
white cemetery, the trio cautiously approach for a little free advice. Chris
suggests hiring gunfighters as ‘men are cheaper than guns.’ Taking pity
on their plight, Chris plots to help this inexperienced triumvirate recruit from
the local talent. Alas, Chris’ Achilles’ Heel is he possesses a heart, and quickly
evolves a genuine affection for Tomas, Sotero and Miguel, whom he recognizes
are completely out of their depth. Despite
the meager pay being offered, Chris realizes they have given everything to
their cause. Thereafter, he becomes personally invested. His first recruit is
Vin Tanner (McQueen), a gambler gone broke and unwilling to assume the quiet
life in town as a store clerk. Chris’ friend, Harry Luck (Brad Dexter), suspects
his ole pal is concealing a far grander reward for the work and also signs on. In
short order, the rest of the men fall into line: Irish Mexican, Bernardo
O'Reilly (Charles Bronson), on hard times; Britt (James Coburn), a knife and
gun expert, and, jack-a-dandy gunman, Lee (Robert Vaughn), beset by hallucinations
of fallen enemies. This motley crew of disparate and desperate men are trailed
by Chico (Horst Buchholz), an aspiring gunslinger, previously spurned by Chris,
but now, reluctantly invited to join the group.
Back at the village, Chris and his cohorts diligently endeavor
to fortify the ramshackle of huts and homes with bunkers from which they may set
their ambuscade against Calvera. A curious absence of women raises the men’s
ire, confirmed after Chico inadvertently stumbles upon Petra (Rosenda Monteros)
and learns that the women have been deliberately concealed by their men folk, erroneously
to assume the gunmen would otherwise try to rape them. At first, deeply
insulted by the villagers’ lack of faith, gradually, the gunmen and villagers
warm to one another. Indeed, it is Petra
who romantically pursues Chico. When Bernardo learns they are being fed the
choice food, they elect to share it with the hungry village children.
Meanwhile, three of Calvera’s men are sent to reconnoiter the village. Instead,
they are effortlessly dispatched by the waiting gunmen. In reply, Calvera and the
rest of his bandit force descend upon the village. However, they are unprepared
for the villagers’ wrath. In short order, the ‘seven’ and the villagers wipe
out another eight of Calvera’s men, driving the bandito and his startled
thug-muscle out of town. Believing Calvera will not return, the village throws
a party to celebrate their short-lived victory. Alas, Chico, having infiltrated
Calvera’s encampment, learns Calvera is amassing anew to take the village by
force.
A handful of villagers are eager to have the
gunfighters leave town – erroneously believing they can negotiate a truce with
Calvera in their absence. Chris astutely reasons the village will need their
help to survive. So, the ‘seven’ ride out for a surprise raid on Calvera's camp,
only to discover it already abandoned. Instead, upon returning to the village,
Chris and his men are intercepted by Calvera and his entourage, having colluded
with a small faction of villagers to sneak in and take control. Calvera spares
their lives, fearing reprisals from ‘friends of friends’ across the border. However,
Chris and Vin admit they are emotionally invested in what happens to the
village. Escorted to the outskirts by Calvera’s men, the seven contemplate
their next move – all but Harry, concurring they must return for one final
stand-off against Calvera’s tyranny. Tragically, the situation is just as Harry
predicted – suicidal! Having suffered a last-minute change of heart, Harry
arrives in the nick of time to spare Chris from being fatally shot. But his valor
is met with his own death.
Pleading with Chris to know the true nature of their
mission, Chris lies, suggesting they were after a hidden gold mine all along; hence,
an honorable death in pursuit of fortune and glory. Overcoming his paralytic
fear, Lee storms a house where several villagers are being held hostage, easily
dispatching with their captors. Bernardo is fatally shot while protecting two
village boys he earlier befriended, and shortly thereafter, Britt is felled by
a bullet. Seeking vengeance, Chris murders Calvera, whose inquiry, “You came
back... to a place like this? Why? A man like you? Why?” is never met with
a response. As Calvera’s remaining bandits retreat in haste, the three
remaining gunmen ride out of town. Observing the village from a distance, Chico
elects to part from their company. He has fallen in love with Petra. Chris and
Vin bid farewell to the village elder who astutely surmises only they have won
the day; the gunslingers, like the wind, blown across this vacant land and pass
on. As Chris and Vin ride past the graves of their fallen brethren, Chris
coolly concurs, “The Old Man was right. Only the farmers won. We lost. We'll
always lose.”
The Magnificent Seven is one hell of
a magnificent picture. Despite some spectacularly condescending reviews – New
York Time’s Howard Thompson calling Sturges’ western opus magnum a “pallid,
pretentious and overlong reflection of the Japanese original”, while
Variety thought it ‘anti-climactic’ and ‘too magnificent’ for its
own good, the movie would enter the collective consciousness of movie goers
everywhere as a miraculous, virile, often rousing, and occasionally sobering meditation
on the changing landscape of the American West, as reconceived for the
Hollywood cameras. Charles Stinson’s praise of Sturges’ direction as “superb
staccato” is likely the most accurate assessment of what has been brought
to the table herein. And since its release, the picture’s reputation as a true
classic has withstood the test of shifting cultural mores and tastes. There is scarcely
a false moment or performance in The Magnificent Seven – with Brynner
and McQueen the obvious stand-outs in this solidly cast western drama/actioner.
Interestingly, The Magnificent Seven holds the dubious distinction of
being the second most aired movie in television history; surpassed, only by the
annual screenings of the beloved Wizard of Oz (1939). Given its
immediate box office success, the picture naturally demanded a sequel,
receiving three: Return of the Seven (1966), Guns of the Magnificent
Seven (1969), and The Magnificent Seven Ride (1972), incrementally,
to dilute the magic and enduring popularity of the original. The Magnificent
Seven also spawned a TV series that ran from 1998 to 2000 with Robert
Vaughn making infrequent guest appearances as a judge. And the homages continued.
1980’s Battle Beyond the Stars transposed the western milieu into the
farthest intergalactic reaches of space. Throughout the decade, various TV
series also paid their tributes to this franchise. Finally, in 2016, an outright
remake emerged; more violently scripted, but artistically less successful than
the original.
The Magnificent Seven has long been
available on Blu-ray via MGM/Fox Home Video. Most readily packaged, along with its
various sequels, none of the movies in this set have been afforded a meticulous
‘frame-by-frame’ restoration. And yet, all look remarkably solid in hi-def –
especially, the original movie. Colors are rich and vibrant. Contrast is excellent,
and film grain appears very indigenous to its source. While the gradient of
colors varies from film to film – owing to different film stocks employed at
the time each picture was made – the overall result here is very pleasing and
will surely not disappoint. The original movie is free of age-related debris
and artifacts. The sequels are not as lucky, although it ought to be pointed
out, the ravages of time have been exceedingly kind on the whole. So, no
glaring distractions and no post-telecine misfires like edge enhancement, or
digitization of film grain. Overall, image clarity is remarkable. To be sure,
there are some very minor color fluctuations, but otherwise, virtually nothing
to bristle about. There is also a minute hint of telecine wobble, intermittent
and barely worth mentioning, except to say that on larger screens and in
projection it will be detected as a curious, if fleeting anomaly. It should be
noted that Return of the Magnificent Seven appears to be in the roughest
shape, with speckling throughout and an image that is noticeably softer than
the other sequels. With the exception of The Magnificent Seven Ride,
shot it 1.85:1 aspect ratio, the rest of the movies herein are exhibited in
their native 2.35:1 Panavision.
The 5.1 DTS audio on all of the movies is consistent.
Working backward from mono/stereo stems, the true benefactor here is Elmer
Bernstein’s score and main title. SFX sound tinny by comparison, although a few
explosions work the bass with a potent and uncanny low-end rumble. Extras
include an audio commentary from Walter Mirisch, Assistant Director Robert
Relyea, and actors, James Coburn and Eli Wallach on the original movie only.
Curiously, when The Magnificent Seven made the leap to Blu-ray, it did so
without historian, Sir Christopher Frayling’s far more comprehensive commentary
that graced the 2006 Collector's Edition DVD release. What we get in its place
is Guns for Hire: The Making of The Magnificent Seven. At nearly
50 min., this is a fulfilling documentary, featuring behind-the-scenes stills
and footage, archival interviews, and then newly recorded reflections from
Wallach and Mirisch, among many others. There is also, The Linen Book: Lost
Images from The Magnificent Seven; a 15 min. retrospective with
Maggie Adams, the curator of MGM’s photo archive, another 15 min. devoted to
Elmer Bernstein, with music historian, Jon Burlingame delving into the good
stuff. None of the remaining movies in this collection are afforded anything
beyond original theatrical trailers, which also accompany the first movie.
Bottom line: The Magnificent Seven is a peerless classic. Others have
tried to emulate the picture’s exhilarating appeal. But the success of the original
is in its cast. How could any picture with Yul Brynner, Steven McQueen, James
Coburn and Robert Vaughn miss? This one doesn’t. Very highly recommended.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
The Magnificent Seven – 5+
Return of the Magnificent Seven – 3.5
Guns of the Magnificent Seven - 3
The Magnificent Seven Ride! – 2.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
The Magnificent Seven – 4.5
Return of the Magnificent Seven – 4.5
Guns of the Magnificent Seven - 4
The Magnificent Seven Ride! – 2.5
EXTRAS
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