It’s never easy to learn that yet another screen titan has left us. The rate at which we’ve been losing our legends is gutting, which is why it deeply saddened me when I found out about the great Gene Hackman passing away with his wife Betsy Arakawa in their New Mexico home.
When it comes to the actor’s diverse body of work, there’s almost too much to talk about. But that was how Hackman secured his legacy as one of the industry’s most versatile performers for decades. Any contemporary actor alive would kill to have the resume Hackman had. He worked with greats like Arthur Penn (“Bonnie and Clyde”), Francis Ford Coppola (“The Conversation”), Richard Donner (“Superman: The Movie”), Sam Raimi (“The Quick and the Dead”), Tony Scott (“Crimson Tide”), and Wes Anderson (“The Royal Tenenbaums”), among countless others.
Hackman won his first Academy Award in 1972 for his turn as Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle in William Friedkin’s “The French Connection,” But it was his partnership with Clint Eastwood on the 1992 revisionist Western “Unforgiven” that led to his only other win (Best Supporting Actor) for his turn as “Little Bill” Daggett, the ruthless sheriff of Big Whiskey, Wyoming.
“Unforgiven” remains an incredible piece of filmmaking about how violence, no matter how justified, leaves a rot in your soul that just sits there and festers as you learn to live with it. It’s a film that seeks to dispel the common myths of romanticized gunslingers in the Wild West, with Hackman summing up the movie’s thesis in one incredible scene.
Hackman’s Little Bill exposes English Bob for who he truly is
After having beaten English Bob (Richard Harris) in the streets for not relinquishing his guns upon his arrival into town, “Little Bill” relishes in the defeat. He mocks the gunslinger’s phony moniker “The Duke of Death” by referring to him as “Duck.” It confuses his biographer W.W. Beauchamp (Saul Rubinek) why “Little Bill” would contest these stories — that is, until he learns that the Sheriff was present for what really happened. The heroic status English Bob had built up for himself (along with the dark chapter of British history Harris brought to his performance) is fabricated beyond belief. He’s a good shot, sure, but nowhere near the hero he’s been made out to be.
As a bloodied English Bob sits in his jail cell, “Little Bill” essentially sways the right-hand writer over to his side of the table. The two share laughs and mockeries while the “Duck” wallows in the humiliation of it all. That’s when “Little Bill” suddenly gets a nasty idea that speaks to his blood-thirst, offering the failed historian the chance to make his own history. He tosses a pistol on the table and proposes a no strings attached escape for him and English Bob if he manages to shoot first. The once playful atmosphere takes a swift, dark turn as all three parties realize the gravity of what could possibly happen. Beauchamp ultimately chickens out, but in his own unscrupulous curiosity, posits the idea of letting English Bob take a crack at it.
You could cut the tension in this three-way showdown with a knife. It’s the ultimate reclamation of his legendary status, one that “Little Bill” is more than prepared to silence with one last bullet. English Bob ultimately refuses the pistol, believing there’s no way it’s actually loaded — a notion that “Little Bill” is more than happy to prove wrong. “You’re right not to take it, Bob. I would have killed you,” says “Little Bill.”
And so ends the tall tale of the “Duck of Death.”
Unforgiven deconstructs the Western genre
As sadistic as “Little Bill” can be, he’s nothing if not honest. A commonality with his character throughout “Unforgiven” is that he can’t stand the idea of romanticized outlaws. It’s why he’s so steadfast on destroying English Bob’s reputation, in addition to whoever claims the bounty that drives the film’s plot. The disappearance of Beauchamp’s excitement when “Little Bill” debunks his story says everything. The hero he’s been chronicling is no more than a violent drunk who may get a good shot in, but ultimately plays dirty. The legendary Two-Gun Corcoran was no more than a well-endowed bystander whose only crime was not being able to avoid a bullet from a belligerent heavy-drinker.
The scene not only provides a great insight into the sadistic pleasure of “Little Bill,” but it’s also a reflection of how the film itself deconstructs its protagonists, including William Munny (Clint Eastwood) and Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman). The former outlaws have performed a number of terrible deeds across their lifespan. Over the course of the story, however, they’re presented with a reasonable excuse to re-emerge into the world they left behind — a bounty that calls for them to slay the men that attacked the sex worker Delilah Fitzgerald (Anna Thompson), permanently scarring her face, and basically got away with it despite “Little Bill” claiming to have sufficiently punished them.
“Unforgiven” hardly presents the mission as exciting or righteous. In the end, people, even bad people, have to die. It’s the kind of mission you’d expect to see in Westerns of an earlier era with bravado and righteousness, but there are no winners here. No one feels good about what they’re doing. And the one person who could spin a yarn about what happened in Big Whiskey flees having seen the firsthand consequences of romanticizing these violent tales.
Little Bill foreshadows his own demise in Unforgiven’s climax
While “Little Bill” doesn’t manufacture the kind of stories English Bob did, he possesses the same authoritarian callousness for life. Running a town in which firearms are outlawed sounds progressive in practice, but his actions prove otherwise. His access to all the town’s weapons only makes him feel more powerful. Even after “Little Bill” and his deputy posse disarm any gun-toting newcomers, he proves that, in a sense, he’s no better than English Bob when it comes to his violent tendencies. It appears building a little house for yourself doesn’t offset the cruelty.
In the jailhouse scene, there’s a clear moment when the tone changes from laughs to the edge of violence. “A man who’ll keep his head and not get rattled under fire, like as not, he’ll kill you,” says “Little Bill.” In that moment, he knows that he holds all of the advantage to come out on top. There’s no way a writer who’s never held a gun before in his life, nor a beaten gunslinger, will best him.
When Munny arrives as the specter of death in the film’s climax, his furious presence throws “Little Bill” off his game. Earlier, the Sheriff had admitted that he’s not the best shot, but his hierarchy provides him with enough nerve to keep a cool head. Munny’s first shot is a dud, but “Little Bill” gets swiftly taken out all the same, having not only lost his cool but also come to recognize that he’s no longer the most headstrong person in the room.
Hackman’s versatility is on full display in Unforgiven
I actually got to see a rare 35mm print of “Unforgiven” at one of Massachusetts’ great movie houses, the Somerville Theater, and found the jailhouse confrontation encapsulated the kind of versatile talent Hackman brought not only to “Unforgiven,” but also his entire oeuvre.
Hackman played all sorts of characters across his career. He could be endearing, pathetic, cruel, funny, and scary across just about every genre. In “Unforgiven,” there are glimpses of Hackman playing “Little Bill” like he could be your friend. How can you not laugh every time he takes Harris’ English Bob down a peg with the “Duck of Death” shaming? All it takes is one inflection on his face, however, to transform into the devil. The way he towers over Rubinek’s Beauchamp is such an intimidating moment and really puts into perspective how dangerous this character is
Hackman nearly passed on the role on account of his kids’ perception of him in violent movies, and it’s a blessing that he didn’t. “Unforgiven” provided Hackman the flexibility he needed to play such a cunning, evil figure while exploring the mechanics of how his violence flourishes through a seemingly approachable guise like upholding the law.
By the end of the screening I attended, I thought to myself how much we’ve lost without new movies starring Hackman. As we mourn his absence from this world, however, there’s a beauty in knowing that his body of work speaks for itself and will continue to do so.