THE HARDER THEY FALL

 

THE HARDER THEY FALL

Westerns tend to draw their lines early on, establishing the character arcs of its White Hats and Black Hats in the first act.

We know who the good guy is. He's gonna carry top billing. He's gonna be the star, gunning down some damn dirty injun or State's Rights hating scum.

My Daddy watched Westerns. Loved them. He came home from work in the evening and immediately appropriated the television; turning it to M.A.S.H., the evening news and then, finally, Gunsmoke, before the prime time shows started up.

This was done ritualistically.

It made all of the kids scatter, find a corner to explore our own imaginations rather than subjecting ourselves to the boredom associated with that block of television programming.

The Harder They Fall established its White Hats and Black Hats in its opening scene, as well.

As the film progressed, however, it seemed more of a generational delineation.

Old Heads vs the New.

Delroy, Idris, Regina, the leaders of the Old Black Guard. Hollywood's Beautiful Black Tie Elite.

Hell, Idris?

This man was once considered(even if only jokingly)to be in the running to join MI6's 007 program.

He is natural beauty at its best.

Even White women would agree.

And Regina, over the course of the last year or so, with the curious onset of racial awakening that beset corporate America for a brief bit of time, became America's Next Black Sweetheart, their latest Michelle/Oprah/Kamala hybrid; their 'Sista' girl.

Mostly non-threatening, almost sassy.

Jeymes Samuels subverts these expectations and the subversion is delightful.

I loved seeing Regina as Treacherous Trudy. I can't wait to see if she returns, and Idris was no less than masterful as Rufus Buck.

Ain't no coming back for his character, though. A shame.

To be clear, my own particular viewing experience was informed by prior knowledge of who these people were, or at least the majority of them, by reputation.

For instance, I knew that Nat Love had invented the steer wrangling technique known as 'bull-doggin'.

I had even heard tell and had read about Stage Coach Mary, Rufus Buck and Cherokee Bill.

And I also knew that the Lone Ranger was a Bass Reeves knock-off.

An inferior knock-off, at that.

The real Bass Reeves was more superhero than former slave.

Dude beat the shit out of his former slave owner and lived amongst the Native Americans before becoming the baddest lawman West of the Mississippi.

That's a superhero origin story, and I absolutely delighted in seeing him and the others so adeptly portrayed, finally, on film.

It was nice to see the artists who took up these roles, as well, Johnathan Majors, Lakieth Stansfield, Zazi Beetz, RJ Cyler, Danielle Deadwyler, Edi Gatheji, each of them, to the last, underappreciated and finally given the opportunity to inhabit such rich, fully realized and realistic characters.

Not Caricatures. These were well thought out, dynamic representations with universal appeal.

This was, as a viewing experience, artistically equivalent to the genres finest.

Which, for me, is represented by the likes of The Outlaw Josey Wales. Its viewing experience transcends the limitations of its Western boundaries and I just think of it as a damned good movie.

I enwrap myself in it, its racist subtext and all, and involve myself in its movement, anticipating its climactic moments and its most momentous movie quotes.

I watch it a lot. I call it 'bored tv'. It's good for when the crush of horrible television becomes too much for me. I find comfort in my reruns.

Josie Wales rates at the top of the list.

But man, how times have changed.

I just finished watching The Harder They Fall for the fifth time since its release on Netflix less than two weeks ago.

I told myself that it was research.

For this article.

I lied.