El Último Hombre

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery - When the Last Man standing first came out, it was hard not to make the connection between that film and Yojimbo (since Yojimbo's script was credited -although not the original source for Yojimbo, an American crime novel, red Harvest, by Dashiell Hammet - Yojimbo's Kurosawa also forgot to credit in his film). But even a critic as astute as Roger Ebert only thought the film was only 'similar' to "Fistful of Dollars" even though the plots of the two films have more in common than that of this film and Yojimbo.

Since then, I have watched all the films several times. Now is as good a time as any to reflect on the matter again.

The Last Man Standing does not hold up as well as I had hoped; the saturated sepia tones of the film now appear to be a mannerist affectation. It was certainly a transitional film for Willis - the role is pretty heavy - but the Sixth Sense rewrote the book on Willis far better than any of his other off-cast roles could, since (unlike the others) it never made any pretense at being an action film. The voice over is a little pretentious. And its clear that Hill let the Gothic tone of the film overwhelm his efforts at black comedy. And oddly enough, despite its violence the film could use more action.

Yet the film remains historically important, if nothing else, because it now appears to have been the last of a cycle. Although even Jean-Claude Van Damme actually appeared in a "Yojumbo" clone - "Desert Heat" - and there have been other attempts to revive Hammett's essential narrative (e.g. the "Doom" robot film by Albert Pyun) the fact remains that the nameless outsider quick on the draw is fast slipping into the realm of pure 20th century myth. He doesn't really belong in the era of Computer graphics, invasions of Iraq, wars against non-existent terrorism. His blood is part whiskey, but it's human blood; and he may be a killer, but he won't be a party to genocide. He's too real, and yet too good, for the 21st century rushing in on us.

I take the darkly sepia-toned Last Man Standing as a final farewell to a hero of the previous century, just as Hitchcock's 39 Steps effectively said farewell to the romantic adventurer of the 19th century. Every era has its heroes; and it is sad that Sanjuro/John Smith/the Man with No Name can no longer be one of ours. It's probably too much to ask, but hopefully someone better - or at least as good - will come along.

-E. J. Winner.

Plot summary: In a prohibition era update of Yojimbo, Bruce Willis shoots a load of gangsters.

First off I will never understand why Walter Hill does not have a better reputation. He's probably best known for his commercial success with the 48 Hrs films, and his other brilliant features get criminally overlooked. He scored a cult hit with "The Warriors", he delivered one of the best westerns ever with "The Long Riders", and put all other car chase movies to shame with the ultra cool "The Driver." As anyone who has seen these films should realise, Hill should be mentioned in the same breath as Peckinpah, Woo and Rodriguez when it comes to slow-mo gunplay.

"Last Man Standing" doesn't rival these earlier works, but it is a tough, gritty film with some fantastic shootouts. It doesn't hold itself back in terms of blood and violence, something current US films of the genre are guilty of doing. It has everything an action film needs; tough antihero, loath able bad guys, a creepy main villain and plenty of cannon fodder. As long as you don't get hung up on technicalities (ie the guns fire ten times more ammo than they hold) you should be entertained.

It doesn't feel like any effort went into the screenplay, but Hill adds some nice touches to the film in terms of nods towards the source material. I particularly like the opening where Bruce spins his empty whisky bottle on the ground to decide which road to take; a clear reference to Toshiro Mifune throwing a stick into the air to decide on his path. There is also an interesting cast; there's earlier Hill collaborator Bruce Dern (The memorable villain from The Driver), William Sanderson (Blade Runner) and of course Christopher Walken, who chews the scenery talking tough with his hoarse accent and threatening people with a Tommy gun. His performance is really the most memorable thing about the film. Willis is not Mifune or Eastwood, but he does suit the mysterious drifter character well and this is one of his better action man roles.

All things said, the film certainly doesn't come close to "Yojimbo", but it does give the more rough hewn "Fistful of Dollars" a run for its money. By no means a masterpiece, "Last Man Standing" should still provide enough for any action fans tired of watered down mainstream Hollywood nonsense that currently dilutes cinemas. It is certainly a lot better than its reputation makes out.

This movie is a Gangster remake of Clint East Wood's A Fistful of Dollars which is a Western remake of Yojimbo which is a samurai adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's The Red Harvest. When adapting the first time Akira Kurosawa changed the amount of gangs involved from 4 to 2. Every version since then has had only 2. The Continental Op, The Man With No Name, Mifune's Samurai, and Bruce Willis's John Smith. All Nameless. All working all sides to their own end.

As this is the only gangster version of this story, I like this movie very much, though I would like to see a more accurate version of the Red Harvest. When deciding who should play the Continental Op, none come to mind more than Bruce Willis, which of course brings me back to liking Last Man Standing. Not as pretty as those that came before, but pretty cool.

This is simply what the above headline states: an ultra-violent movie done is stylish cinematography. Walter Hill, a nasty director who does this sort of thing (violent, profane films but usually with great visual appeal) did it in spades on this one. This is testosterone gone berserk.....and very entertaining.

Actually, I enjoy watching this film and don't apologize for it, although it has no "redeeming qualities." However, I love the old-fashioned narration, here done by Bruce Willis in great Mickey Spillane/Mike Hammer-style, the period in which it's done (1930s) and the great colors in here. Love those orange colors!! This looks tremendous on DVD with a good flat-screen set.

If I'm feeling in the need of seeing a violent crime film, this usually fills the bill. It's a fun flick. I could do worse.

This brutal Walter Hill pic has one of the best beatings ever burned to celluloid. It is so brutal, in fact, that the victim (Bruce Willis) looks like Jason from "Friday The 13th" once his attackers get done with him. Even better, he then lurches around like Rondo Hatten in "The Creep Man" plotting his revenge.

The film's final action scene is an awful, indescribable mess, and I have always wondered why Hill and usual editor Freeman Davies opted to construct it this way. It is a shootout presented in a series of dissolves, and it just doesn't work. Hill has always been an adroit director and editor of action, and his fine work has a precision to it that this sequence lacks. Perhaps the camera negatives were damaged or the studio ordered a truncation. Whatever the reasons are for this flawed sequence, it, unfortunately, turns a great movie into a good movie.

The opening sequence, replete with Ry Cooder's smooth scoring, is poetic and beautiful; Willis's arrival in town is directed with skill and energy; and cudos are also in order for the scene in which the first shot is fired and a stuntman is sent flying through a door into the dusty street outside.

Christopher Walken is fantastic as the violent enforcer Hickey, and it is great to see David Patrick Kelly back on the screen as the malicious Doyle.

There are many standout sequences and much to enjoy. Willis's solitary siege of a brothel, for example, is classic Hill stuff in terms of its staging, unapologetic brutality and superb cutting.

That the film is a remake of a remake is of no consequence to me. It is still a rousing, spare piece of masculine entertainment with a whiff of Peckinpah, a dash of Kurosawa, and a splatter of Corbucci.

That ain't no bad thing.