The Great Silence (Sergio Corbucci, 1968)

There are certain films that have endings so unique, distinctive and downright unexpected that these endings often become the most famous thing about the films themselves. Think Planet of the Apes. Think The Wicker Man. Think Don’t Look Now. The last 5 or 10 minutes of all those films are so infamous that they are considered fair game for such activities as open discussion in Channel 4 list programmes, parody in lazy comedy sketch shows, and in the case of the former two, are even incorporated into the video and DVD box artwork. It can’t be just me that is slightly bitter about the fact that I saw all three of those films for the first time fully aware of what was going to happen in the end?

On the other hand, there are some films (the cited examples included, admittedly) with unexpected denouements that almost have to be revealed if a proper and thorough discussion of those films can take place. In order to get the full flavour of this week’s Morricone Monday movie, I’m going to have to give away the ending. So, in true BBC-news-reader-before-Match-of-the-Day-stylee, please look away now if you don’t want to know the final result of The Great Silence.

The bad guys win. Yes, that’s right… The bad guys win. A dirty posse of brutal bounty hunters remorselessly, and bloodily, gun down the hero, his love interest, and scores of innocents, before riding off into the, well not quite ”sunset” exactly, but they do get away with it completely. An unusual climax to any Western, I’m sure you”ll agree, even one spawned from the genre’s crazy, existential continental cousin, the Spaghetti Western. To find out how this remarkable resolution is reached, however, let’s journey back to the very beginning.

The ending is not the only thing atypical about The Great Silence; it is also distinctive for being one of only a small handful of snowbound Westerns (see also McCabe & Mrs Miller, and Pale Rider), set as it is in Utah, during the Great Blizzard of 1899. A mute and moody gunslinger, helpfully named Silence, moseys into the town of Snowhill, where the poorer inhabitants have been made homeless and forced to take to the mountains. With not a penny between them, they begin to steal food from the town, and at one point are reduced to pinching a passerby’s horse for a spot of lunch. Worse than that even, they are being ruthlessly picked off for profit by a merciless gang of bounty hunters, led by the crazy and strangely fey, also helpfully named, Loco. Firmly on the side of the mountain dwellers and fully aware of how the law has been twisted to suit the murderous bounty hunters, Silence cleverly provokes his new-found enemies before killing them, meaning he can claim self-defence every time.

At first we think Silence, working in tandem with Snowhill’s new sheriff, has arrived in town to selflessly assist these hungry thieves in the mountains, but it soon becomes clear he has both a past and an agenda. Well, this is a Spaghetti Western, after all. In the sort of intense and ultra-melodramatic flashback sequence that only this genre can deliver we learn that Silence was rendered mute by the knife of the very same corrupt business man who is currently signing the blood-stained cheques for Loco and his crooked accomplices. Our hero also shacks up with a local lady who has recently been made a widow by Loco, and is also after revenge. Will the new lovers put an end to Loco’s reign of terror? Will the poor townspeople confined to the mountains return to their homes and live in happiness once more? Erm, no. I’ve already told you that they all get shot by the bounty hunters in the end!

There are many people for whom the end of The Great Silence is the best thing about it. For them it is a unique and mind-shattering twist; a brauva masterstroke and an ingeniuous ace-up-the-sleeve. I am not one of these people. I have never been convinced by the end of The Great Silence. It just doesn’t work for me. As far as I can see it is little more than an exercise in deliberately downbeat contrivance. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I have a problem with downbeat endings generally, on the contrary. I fully agree with Roman Polanski (perhaps the master of the memorably downbeat ending) that films with overly-contrived happy endings ultimately aren’t worth seeing, but at the same time some films do have to deliver certain things to their viewers; particularly genre films, like Spaghetti Westerns.

Spaghetti Westerns deal in very particular conventions, and The Great Silence is no different. It’s not that it isn’t a intelligent and exemplary Spaghetti Western (it very much is, more on that in a second), it’s just that it still promises the same things that all other Westerns do - vengenace for the hero, comeuppance for the villians, peace for the frontier town - and it’s failure to deliver these things feels rather forced, and makes the director, Sergio Corbucci, come across as a bit of a spoilsport, frankly. It would have been much better had Corbucci aimed for something a bit more bittersweet (Silence and Loco both die, say, but the mountain people survive), rather than bludgeon us full-on in the face with an almost sadistically depressing finale. Every time I watch The Great Silence I can’t help but feel that the final scene as somehow been wiped, and I’m left miserably staring into a gaping chasm of open-endedness (indeed, an alternative “happy” ending was filmed for certain territories, but it is far from satisfactory itself; it would seem Corbucci just wouldn’t hear of letting Silence survive).

That other notable snow-covered Western, McCabe & Mrs Miller, does manage to successfully pull off a rather morbid ending in which the hero perishes (to a Leonard Cohen soundtrack, no less!); but then, it was directed by idiosyncratic iconoclast Robert Altman. Sergio Corbucci is no Robert Altman, but he is a great director in his own right and, after Sergio Leone, is arguably the Spaghetti Western’s tastiest talent. Up there with Eastwood’s Man with No Name as the genre’s leading icon is Franco Nero’s coffin-dragging gunman, Django, who made his bloody and brilliant debut in Corbucci’s 1966 film of the same name. Where Leone’s Westerns were witty and sly, Corbucci’s would be brutal and gothic, and The Great Silence with it’s violent, often almost religious imagery (battered and bloody hands are a recurring motif) is no different. But as noted earlier, it is also an often thoughtful and even political film. The way that Corbucci portrays the law as having been corrupted to serve the vicious and greedy, and condemn the innocent and needy, is nothing short of inspired. The underlying message that those who engage in crime in violent areas often do so out of necessity is one that many could do with heeding today. Silence’s almost lulling his prey into firing at him, as well as his enforced, erm, silence (which could almost be a parody of the traditional Spaghetti Western anti-hero) are both enjoyable and memorable ploys, to boot.

As if all that weren’t enough The Great Silence also boasts two cracking, charismatic leads; sleek, sophisticated Jean-Louis Trintignant as Silence (something of a specialist when it comes to arch oddballs, see also The Conformist) and legendary psychotic Klaus Kinski as Loco (something of a specialist when it comes to playing weird villains in Westerns, see also For a Few Dollars More). Several Corbucci Spaghetti Westerns boast sublime soundtracks by the genre’s in-house composer, Ennio Morricone, and as should already be clear, this one does too. We’ll tell you about some of the other ones in later weeks, but for now, here comes Aneet to give you the noise on The Great Silence. I hope she won’t mind me giving away the ending, but… It turns out she rather likes it!

Yes Alan. I do like it but it’s all rather sad, isn’t it? Anyway, listeners…

During my ‘years’ of doing Morricone Monday, I’ve noticed the more unusual and challenging the film, the more stunning and simple the Maestro’s score is.

Considered by Morricone aficionados to be one of the best Italian Western scores of all time, The Great Silence bears all the hallmarks of a Morricone classic.

The film’s bleak snow setting drifts the soundtrack to majestic and whimsical heights. Between the soft sound textures of the title theme to the atmospheric Prima Che Volino I Corvi, the score has a haunting and melancholic quality to it, leaving the listener slightly wistful and well, quite sad.

Musically, Morricone certainly matches the evocative and downbeat visual mood of the film. Trademark Spaghetti Western sounds linger with unforgettable sorrow, the strings soar and the percussion rattles with precision and solitude which the likes have not been really heard before or since

 But before you start thinking that this sounds like the most depressing thing you’ve ever heard, the soundtrack induces a lovely, warm slightly bittersweet feeling. If a soundtrack could wrap you up in a blanket in the coldest winter, this would be it. As mentioned before The Big Silence is a truly  beautiful soundtrack and like snowflakes swirl and glide around you with fragile elegance. Essential.

 Here’s the astonishing title track – Il Grande Silenzio (Restless)

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Tags ennio morricone monday morricone madness!!! sergio corbucci soundtracks the great silence