A duster, a squint, and you sold me.

I vividly remember an early teaser trailer in 1992 for this very-deserving Oscar winner, a coming attraction special which began with our granite-hewed hero standing with his back to the camera.

Then he turned and shot us the kind of glare he specializes in, one which turns knees to jelly and sets off fireworks in the brain.

“Clint Eastwood is … Unforgiven.”

Bam. That’s all it took to sell a nation on the Western swan song of a sagebrush legend.

The film was dang near flawless, and the advertising was spot-on.

Poetry, really.


Forget about the cold beans, we’re dining on revenge tonight.

A nice lil’ hardscrabble Western, starring Glenn Ford as an emotionally closed-off gunfighter, this early ’70s film comes out guns blazin’.

While he can slap leather with the best of them, the worn-down assassin at the heart of things is haunted by a lost son, and driven by a desire to find some peace on the far reaches of the prairie with his devoted, and very understanding, wife.

Problem is, when you bury men for a living, their relatives have a way of frequently showing up on your doorstep.