My Name is Nobody

My Name Is Nobody Terence Hill, as Nobody, needs no more than his brilliant blue eyes to capture the imagination of viewers. Although he has a model's figure and a leading-man's face, he doesn't seem at all afraid to make a fool of himself, to break the "blue steel" trap so many handsome actors step into. He makes me laugh all through this movie, not least when he tells the unforgettable story of the little birdie in the cow pie.

Henry Fonda had always seemed immortal to me, but re-watching this film I seemed to see him age as I do. That moment was a tender one for me. (I'm going to go watch The Lady Eve now just to make myself feel better.) Fonda brilliantly plays the aging gunfighter who takes on The Wild Bunch ("One hundred and fifty purebred sons of bitches on horseback") in silver-rimmed spectacles: a reluctant hero.

Although some of the humor in this film may seem heavy-handed, the swearing occasional, and the drinking stereotypically abundant, this film contains very little truly objectionable, and even tugs at the heartstrings as Ennio Morricone's ending strains deposit the viewer gently in the final credits. I admit it; I cried. Twice. I laughed much more than that, though.

If you aren't used to Spaghetti Westerns, you might be put off by Ennio Morricone. Personally, I have grown to love his themes, with their artistic homages to Wagner and light-hearted roughness. If you resist this film on that account, you're a fool, and you're missing out on one of the most amusing and warm-hearted films ever created.

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