"Unforgiven" - "Deserve's Got Nothing to Do With It."

SPOILERS ahead.

I was going to write about Unforgiven a few months back when I was covering one western a month, but I got a bit tired of writing about westerns and shelved it. Then a few weeks ago my friend Robie Malcomson asked me to be on his philosophy podcast, Knowing You Know Nothing, to discuss Unforgiven. I figured if I was going to rewatch the movie and prep for the podcast, then I should write an article about it, as well. The podcast we recorded is more focused than this article, so definitely give it a listen for a more philosophical discussion of the film (though we do talk about it in regards to westerns, too). This article will have a little crossover with the podcast, but the podcast was a much more collaborative discussion of the film whereas this article is all my own rambling thoughts. I hope you enjoy both.

The Crown Jewel of Revisionist Westerns.

I’m not going to get into a “history of the western” thing here because I’ve done it before plenty of times. Most of my favorite westerns are considered “revisionist” westerns, which is to say they aren’t like the old John Wayne movies. I do like more traditional westerns (Open Range, Tombstone, most of Clint Eastwood’s early work, etc.[though some would claim that these are revisionist too, but I consider them more traditional]), but in general I gravitate more towards films like The Proposition, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada. 

Unforgiven is the crown jewel of revisionist westerns for me. This film was Clint Eastwood completing his western career by revisiting the genre to turn it on its head. This was a film that acknowledged death, fear, and realism in a genre that rarely does in a meaningful way. Most importantly, it presented a real world in which there are no heroes and villains. There are just people that do things, and it’s much more random than any of us are comfortable admitting. Okay, this is getting way too vague; let me get into some specifics.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Unforgiven is the character of Will Munny. He is essentially an old version of one of Eastwood’s past characters, though more evil than a typical Eastwood “hero.” Will was apparently a drunken maniac who mistreated animals and killed anyone, including women and children. In most westerns, a character like this wouldn’t make it to old age. So in many ways, Unforgiven is about what would happen to a western villain if he mellowed out in old age. 

Will Munny is openly ashamed of his past. He constantly tells everyone that he isn’t like he used to be anymore, mainly thanks to his departed wife. Will is constantly being reminded by those around him, mainly the Schofield Kid and Ned, about all the terrible shit he did in the past. But it makes him visibly uncomfortable to talk about it, and when does, it’s only to claim he’s not like that anymore. 

But Will isn’t just a regretful man. He’s actually more of a reluctant bad guy. How many movies have we seen, especially superhero movies, in which the hero has a skill he/she does not want to use and spends most of the movie swearing off that life but ultimately ends up embracing who they really are? I fucking hate that character arc at this point because it’s so common. Oh really, the Hulk is done being the Hulk? Batman is done being Batman? Wolverine isn’t taking the claws out anymore? Give me a fucking break. But this arc is actually compelling in Unforgiven for multiple reasons.

First off, Will is not a hero, and he’s not out to do good deeds. What always annoys me about reluctant superheroes is that they are just being selfish. I get that it adds to their character, and sacrificing your regular life to be a hero would be a tough choice, but they’re still fucking superheroes. I don’t feel bad or care if Bruce Banner doesn’t want to turn huge and green, just do it and help people out, you fucking loser. With Will, it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to go back down that road. He thinks he’s a changed man, and much like how he doesn’t want to drink whiskey anymore, he’s afraid that one step down that road will lead him right back where he was.

Secondly, it’s not nearly as black and white as most reluctant heroes’ situations. Will is going to do something “bad” no matter what. He’s going to go kill two men. Sure, he convinces himself that they are monsters and that they mutilated a woman, but he’s still going to kill people. (Not to mention that Delilah is not nearly as bad as the stories claim, but I’ll get to that more in the next section). Will seems to believe that as long as he doesn’t drink whiskey, he can dip his toes back into the murder for hire game without completely reverting back to his old ways. And he’s right. He and the Kid kill the two cowboys, and that’s that for him, until he finds out that Little Bill killed Ned.

Once he finds out about Ned, Will starts drinking again. Now he’s diving headfirst back into his old ways because he’s pissed off, and he wants to be the old Will. While the film doesn’t make anyone a complete hero or villain (although Little Bill is pretty close to being a straight up villain), I still find myself thinking, “Fuck yeah!” when he grabs that bottle of whiskey from the Kid. 

Perhaps I’m not supposed to react that way, especially since the movie spends so much time ruminating on death. But this is where Saul Rubinek’s character comes into play. He is definitely going to write about the event, and he’s most likely going to embellish it to make it more palatable. So while Will and the Kid may actually grapple with the deaths they cause, the writer is there to continue the cycle of trivializing death in the interest of profit and entertainment, and if that’s not an indictment of the western genre, I don’t know what is.

While Will is the main character of this film, death is the focus. You typically do not see death presented as it is in Unforgiven, and you definitely don’t have scenes in which it’s discussed so much. While a lot of characters die quickly, there are a few slow moments in the film that are prolonged for a reason. The death of the more innocent of the two cowboys, Davey, is the most important. 

After Will shoots Davey (he had to take the gun from Ned, who could not bring himself to do it, which is another rare moment for a western), Davey slowly dies. His age, pain, and fear make this death much more real than a typical western death. He cries out and is generally terrified of dying. It’s realistic, and it’s unsettling. This is important because you can have characters talk about death all you want, but if it’s not presented in a real manner, it’s just talk. Because of Davey’s death, Will and the Kid’s conversation later on holds much more weight.

Aside from having some great quotes, Will’s discussion of killing with the Kid is truly deep. The Kid is clearly not cut out for it, and Will is morosely talking about the power of it. You’re not just ending a life, you’re taking away their future, as well. The Kid didn’t think he would feel this way about it. He thought, like in the stories he has undoubtedly read, it would be simple and exciting. Instead, in reality, he shot a guy in an outhouse, and he feels horrible about it. Will, the seasoned veteran, has come to terms with this long ago, but that doesn’t mean he’s at peace.

We know that Will is still tortured because of his own brush with death. When he thinks he’s dying, he talks about being scared and seeing dead people. He is scared of what is going to happen to him after he dies because he’s done so many terrible things. Will can handle killing better than the Kid and Ned, but that doesn’t mean all the killing hasn’t affected him. Will fears for his soul, and if there is judgment after this life, he’s right to fear for it. For Will, killing is not only about taking away someone else’s life, it’s also about condemning your own soul. He may be able to move on in this life (and apparently prosper in dry goods, if the epilogue is to be believed), but he knows he will ultimately pay for what he’s done. And that’s what makes Unforgiven so amazing. In this western, everyone gets what’s coming to them, eventually.

“Deserve’s Got Nothing to Do With It.”

The podcast episode I did covers the theme of justice in Unforgiven in plenty of detail, but I still want to cover it a bit in this article, as well. The above quote sums up the movie for me. Death and killing at any time, but especially in the old west is more random and chaotic than any of us would like to admit. Good, bad, or in between, people just die. Someone might be drunk during a gunfight. Someone might freeze up. A gun might misfire. And someone who doesn’t “deserve” to die will die. 

The line said to Little Bill before he is killed applies to much more than just his death. In fact, it applies probably the least to him. Aside from being a representative of the law, Little Bill is not a good person. And some people (Will, certainly) could argue that Bill does deserve to die because of what he did to Ned. But the idea of someone deserving something is more interesting when you look beyond Bill.

The whole plot is the result of a group of prostitutes seeking justice for a woman getting cut up by a cowboy. When they are treated as equals to horses and essentially property, they (mainly Alice) decide to take matters into their own hands. Justice has not been served in their eyes. And the cowboys deserve to die.

But do they? Davey certainly doesn’t as he was hardly a participant in the cutting. And the other cowboy doesn’t deserve to die, either, if we’re going with the eye for an eye type of justice. Delilah does not look that bad after her cuts heal, and she doesn’t seem to want the same “justice” that Alice wants. The cowboys do not deserve to die (they deserve more punishment than giving up some ponies, for sure, but a death sentence seems extreme to me), but like Will says, that has nothing to do with it. The cowboys have to die to make a statement. If you attack these prostitutes, you could end up dead.

In this way, the line is not just about how random life and death is, but it’s also about perspective. Little Bill’s idea of what he deserves is not the same as Will’s. The prostitutes think the cowboys deserve more than what they got. So deserve has nothing to with it and everything to do with it.  

The line is so great because it really applies to life in general. It’s essentially a better way of saying, “Life’s not fair.” (It’s also a better, and less dismissive, way of saying, “Shit happens.”) Talking about fairness always sounds a bit childish to me, so we need a better line as adults when life fucks us over, and “Deserve’s got nothing to with it” is a pretty damn good replacement. I’m not sure why, but that line makes me accept the randomness of life more than a line about fairness. 

Why Do I Own This?

I’m obviously a fan of westerns of all kinds, and this film is a must own. I’ve watched it at least twenty times.

Random Thoughts 

I always got the sense that Alice and Little Bill had a history together.

It's fucking crazy that Eastwood was playing a tired old man back in 1992.

The Schofield Kid can't even cuss realistically. Fuckin' poser...

"Hell, they even cut her teats." How is that worse than having your eyes cut out? 

"She ain't got no face left." Uh, her face really doesn't look that bad after it heals. I think Delilah would feel better about things if it wasn't for everyone talking about how worthless she is now.

So Will is only good at killing and shit when he's drunk? It's like that Family Guy episode where Peter can only play the piano when he's drunk.

Will's kids look very confused and troubled as he explains why animals hate him and are getting their revenge on him. Of course, how else do you react to such shit?

"You going to hump 'em a thousand times?!"

"I guess they got it comin'." Do they? Will's even adding to the story now: "Cut her fingers off…"

"I'll shoot for the queen, and you'll shoot for...well...whomever."

Man, Saul Rubinek gets on my fucking nerves in this movie.

"I just don't want to get killed for lack of shooting back."

"Shit and fried eggs." Is that a saying?

"I was tasting the soup two hours after I ate it." I always think of this line when I shave off my beard.

If you want to play the Unforgiven drinking game, just take a drink every time Ned says, “Jesus, Will.” Take a drink every time Will says, “I ain’t like that no more.” Take a drink every time Little Bill says, “Duck.” And take a shot every time someone says, “They cut her teats off.” You’ll be puking an hour in.

I always forget that there's a scene in this movie with Morgan Freeman asking Clint Eastwood about jacking it.

"Duck, I says."

"Innocent of what?"

I want a prequel. Unforgiven: The Drunken Misadventures of Will Munny.

"Well, you sure killed the hell out of that fella today."

God, I love how Will says, "A sign on him in front of Greely's!"

There should've been a Hugo Stiglitz-like guitar riff when Will takes his first drink of whiskey.

"You'd be William Munny, out of Missouri. Killer of women and children."

"That's right."

"I'll see you in hell, William Munny."

"Yeah."

..