Clint Eastwood's career in Westerns has pushed the envelope, for the style of cinematography, the moral indifference of its hero, and the way that each one has taken the dominant paradigm of the Western and reversed it to say something significant about the genre.
Eastwood's character, William Munny, is as unremarkable a man as he has ever portrayed: a failed pig farmer who turned away from a life of robbery and murder for the love of a wife who died and left him with two children.  Nothing about him suggests the sort of unholy strength which is the one trait all his characters had in common.  It is fully possible to pity Munny as a broken man whose best chance for happiness passed with his wife's death, and whose children's future depends on him returning to his former life as a killer.  When he sets out with Morgan Freeman and Jaimz Woolvett, you wonder if he won't be killed within the first few seconds of a confrontation.
Over the course of the film, the events suggest no clear relationship between what people receive and what they deserve.  Even with the cowboys that maimed her dead, the prostitute that they scarred for life will never reclaim her beauty, and her employment at the bordello will be for the little wages she can get as a maid.  Morgan Freeman, who killed no one and gave up his wages for partial absolution of his guilt, is tortured and killed.  In the words of Eastwood's character, "we all have it coming," it being misery out of proportion to our failures and sins in this life.
Arguably, the climax of this film is as powerful as any he has ever done:  the mild-mannered farmer of the past is replaced by a feral hardness as Eastwood drinks the first whiskey he has had since his marriage.  He rides into town, and finds Gene Hackman and his entire posse celebrating with Morgan Freeman's body on display in front of the bordello.  Like a force of nature, he kills them all in turn, which is not what should happen with the sheer weight of numbers against him.  As the sheriff gasps his last few breaths, he protests angrily that he didn't deserve it, and that he had built a house.  Eastwood restates the theme with a terse, "Deservin's' got nothin' to do with it," and kills him for the cruelty that his job demanded of him.
Virtually every other Western, even if the hero dies in the end, reinforces some meaning for the hero's life; Josey Wales gains closure with his past, Shane died protecting the lives of other people, Will Kane stands up alone for the town that he believes in.  This film advances the dangerous idea that nothing needs to matter or make sense, and that hell has room enough for all of us whether or not we deserve to go.
Well worth seeing, even for people who dislike the genre.
Clint Eastwood's career in Westerns has pushed the envelope, for the style of cinematography, the moral indifference of its hero, and the way that each one has taken the dominant paradigm of the Western and reversed it to say something significant about the genre. Eastwood's character, William Munny, is as unremarkable a man as he has ever portrayed: a failed pig farmer who turned away from a life of robbery and murder for the love of a wife who died and left him with two children. Nothing about him suggests the sort of unholy strength which is the one trait all his characters had in common. It is fully possible to pity Munny as a broken man whose best chance for happiness passed with his wife's death, and whose children's future depends on him returning to his former life as a killer. When he sets out with Morgan Freeman and Jaimz Woolvett, you wonder if he won't be killed within the first few seconds of a confrontation. Over the course of the film, the events suggest no clear relationship between what people receive and what they deserve. Even with the cowboys that maimed her dead, the prostitute that they scarred for life will never reclaim her beauty, and her employment at the bordello will be for the little wages she can get as a maid. Morgan Freeman, who killed no one and gave up his wages for partial absolution of his guilt, is tortured and killed. In the words of Eastwood's character, "we all have it coming," it being misery out of proportion to our failures and sins in this life. Arguably, the climax of this film is as powerful as any he has ever done:  the mild-mannered farmer of the past is replaced by a feral hardness as Eastwood drinks the first whiskey he has had since his marriage. He rides into town, and finds Gene Hackman and his entire posse celebrating with Morgan Freeman's body on display in front of the bordello. Like a force of nature, he kills them all in turn, which is not what should happen with the sheer weight of numbers against him. As the sheriff gasps his last few breaths, he protests angrily that he didn't deserve it, and that he had built a house. Eastwood restates the theme with a terse, "Deservin's' got nothin' to do with it," and kills him for the cruelty that his job demanded of him. Virtually every other Western, even if the hero dies in the end, reinforces some meaning for the hero's life; Josey Wales gains closure with his past, Shane died protecting the lives of other people, Will Kane stands up alone for the town that he believes in. This film advances the dangerous idea that nothing needs to matter or make sense, and that hell has room enough for all of us whether or not we deserve to go. Well worth seeing, even for people who dislike the genre.