#I have my own nitpicks with the graphic novel and specifically the ending but I feel I've ranted about them plenty on discord LOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qqueenofhades · 4 years

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First of all thanks so much for all your TOG history posts! I have a question specifically about the one where you explained the continuity errors with Nicky being a priest. I like your "second son of a nobleman" Nicky that you use in your fics a lot. But I also really like the idea of a lower-class Nicky; TOG already has wealthy merchant scion Joe and literal queen Andy--i love the idea that Nicky comes from humbler origins. Is there any way to make that make sense in a historical context?

I mean, pretty much anything is possible in history? If it can happen, it probably has happened at some point, and even the broad categories and generalizations that historians apply to things are never always right in all cases, even if they represent the major trends. I obviously don’t want to shoot down people’s headcanons or ideas, even and indeed especially from my soapbox of “cranky historian complains about things on the internet.” I have personally tweaked some aspects of Joe and Nicky’s backstories that I use in my fics, since I came up with DVLA before I knew anything about the comics or any bonus content that had been released about the characters. My feeling is that since a) it’s film-verse, not comics, and b) their backstories haven’t been shown on screen and may be subject to change in adaptation, I can, while engaging in transformative fanworks, create them to suit myself. I obviously keep the broad parameters of what canon establishes, but within that space, I do occasionally nip and tuck and move things around. For example in my new AU fic, I DID make Nicky a priest as in graphic-novel canon, but that’s long since changed by the time he arrives in Jerusalem. For the fics I write for them in canon-verse, I tend to use the backstory I established in DVLA, just because... well, I like it a lot, obviously, and that was what I wrote it for. This is just because I am the aforementioned cranky historian and I rearrange the toys when I am playing with them, but my interpretations don’t necessarily have to be everyone else’s.

On that note, since you did ask for some historical context/plausibility for this headcanon, it depends (again) on how much extra story you want to invent for Nicky and how many gaps you want to fill in. Which is totally fine either way! I talked in this ask about the People’s Crusade of 1096, the involvement of unarmed/unskilled commoners in the crusades more generally, and how that would have impacted on Nicky if he didn’t have any previous training in arms. Once again, as with him being a priest, him being a low-class peasant/freeman of humble status runs into some (not insurmountable, but still extant) problems with where he would have learned how to use a sword and weapons more generally. I also obviously approve of the idea of bringing some class diversity into our historical immortals, but the son of a very poor bondsman (the stereotypical peasant in a cottage or a serf working a lord’s land) is, alas, going to have gotten into trouble in his community if he is training with a sword. (Or at least definitely raised some eyebrows, as well as questions about where he got it and how he paid for it.) As I’ve mentioned, the sword is a knight’s weapon, so if Nicky has been using it at all, he has at least enough status to qualify for that.

Happily, however, there are plenty of ways to make him not be from a rich family. As late as the end of the 11th century, aka around the time of the First Crusade, knights could still be distinguished as “free” or “not free,” and since this was before the rise of chivalry as a major social force, knights and men-at-arms were often (and indeed could be throughout the medieval era) from humble families, minor gentry, or even the working class. Chivalry made knighthood into an especial aspiration for the nobility, but not every man on a battlefield was a nobleman -- far from it. Indeed, the nobleman would call up the families who owed allegiance to him, and they could call up the families who owed allegiance to them, and so on. The definition of “knight” in the pre-chivalry landscape is a little muddy; does it convey prestige or social status, or just that someone was trained in arms? Is there a difference between that and just “man at arms” or “armed man?” For instance, at the battle of Hastings in 1066, the English army under King Harold II was composed of fyrdmen, aka regular working stiffs who had been summoned from the land (and indeed, we know they were of humble status because they had to go back and help their families with the harvest after William the soon-to-be-Conqueror had still not arrived in September), and housecarls, the professional/lifelong soldiers who served in the army as a career and were paid for their service. But we don’t always have the luxury of clear terminology for the many, many kinds of armed men who existed in various social strata in the Middle Ages.

That means, therefore, that Nicky can very easily be a poor knight, a man-at-arms of humble status who has just his sword and his armor and is subject to the vassal-of-a-vassal-of-a-vassal-of-a-lord, or other armed man of unclear rank who definitely doesn’t have money or come from a rich family. Despite the unavoidably classist nature of many medieval history chronicles, the ranks of society weren’t only king, duke, earl, and nobleman. It was a patron-and-client society, and while the king was the ultimate patron, plenty of lords of middling rank or lower would have vassals who owed allegiance to them, and vassals who owed allegiance to those vassals in turn. The word feudal, which has been so misused and turned into an (incorrect) shorthand for constant petty territorial violence, basically just means this hierarchical society of mutual rights and obligations, where (unless you were the king) you both owed fealty to someone higher in rank than you and had people lower in rank who owed fealty to you. That would only end with the serf/bondsman, who wasn’t patron to anyone. But within that, there is plenty of wiggle room to make Nicky non-noble.

This would raise the question, however, of how he was going to pay for his journey to Jerusalem. Crusade financing was a perennial problem even for kings and lords with deep pockets, and the cost of a journey to the Middle East was far, far beyond most ordinary people’s ability to cover, which is why the commoners’ crusades kept ending in disaster. (That and obviously the fact that they weren’t trained in war.) When you are traveling for months and months and have to provide all your own food, shelter, arms and armor, transportation, upkeep, etc., you would either have to have a wealthy lord paying your maintenance, have substantial private financing of your own, have sold most of your property to go (which then implies that you had property to sell), made good with a religious house who had advanced you the cash, etc. We can really go down a rabbit hole here about Duke Hugh of Burgundy making a deal with Genoa in 1192 to provision King Philip and the French army on the Third Crusade. (This is helpful since it deals with Genoa, i.e. Nicky, even if not for the First Crusade.) This covered 650 French knights and their squires and came out to nine marks a knight, which is about £6, for an overall bill of 5,850 marks.

To give you an idea of how much this is in comparative terms: in 1380, a poll tax of twelve pence per person was considered so extortionate that it helped kick off the 1381 Peasants’ Revolt. And this was two hundred years later, when wages had risen and exchange rates had increased. One pound was worth 240 pence, so if twelve pence was an exaction for your average laborer, you can see that they’d get nowhere close even to one pound. A gift of £4 to William the Conqueror in 1066 was also considered a wildly high sum. And this was all on the extremely cheap end of crusading ventures. Frederick Barbarossa, who went on the Third Crusade at the same time as Philip and the French, had expenses coming close to 100,000 marks. Crusading, in other words, was wildly expensive (often ruinously so), and either Nicky would have a wealthy patron (meaning that he was somewhat closer to the top of the heap, even if below the first rank of noblemen) or money of his own or some way to finance his journey. Which again means that he has to have some kind of background that enables him to do it. The issue with the ordinary people who went on crusade (and they absolutely did, despite various attempts to forbid them as not militarily useful) is that, as noted, they weren’t trained in arms and they didn’t have money, and when you’re trying to travel from Europe to the Holy Land under 11th-century conditions, that becomes a big problem.

So yes. Basically: you can absolutely make Nicky a person of lower rank, down to a humble man-at-arms, who doesn’t have a rich family and doesn’t come from money. But if he’s going on crusade all the way to Jerusalem -- and if he’s successful at it, i.e. we’re assuming he didn’t get killed until Joe did it the first time -- then he has to have at least enough social status that he is the direct vassal of a wealthy lord or can make some financial arrangements on his own, has been able to train with a sword, knows what he’s doing with it, etc. You are obviously welcome to invent whatever details or backstory you want for him, but alas, crusading was often the provenance of knights, noblemen, and kings for brutally practical reasons, whether economic, social, military, or pragmatic. So the further you go down the social rankings, the more logistical details you’ll have to think up for him (at least if you want to be historically nitpicky, and it’s fantasy, so you frankly don’t even have to, but hey, what do you people come to me for if not historical nitpicking?) as to how he would have trained in arms, paid for his journey, been able to go on crusade in the first place, etc. So yes.

Thanks so much for this question! It was a lot of fun.

#the old guard #the old guard meta #medieval history #history of warfare #long post #emotionallycompromisedrobots #ask

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msindrad · 4 years

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an insanely long crazy-ass post about the dollars trilogy, I’m so sorry y’all

I FOUND THIS POST. I DID IT. I FOUND IT. JESUS. I spent the entirety of my yesterday searching for it.

I’m going to tag everybody who participated in this discussion and whose posts I‘ve found while searching for this discussion on the off-chance that they still might be interested in, yeah, discussing these films.

@clinteastwood-blog @geekboots-blog @istadris @sybilius @bleak-nomads @thenotsobad-thebad-andtheugly @bloncos @mcicioni-blog @unrealthings @stephantom @colonelmortimer

Also, please feel free to ignore me and my analytical outburst if you don’t feel like talking about the films or talking about them with my crazy hyperfixated ass specifically, lol. I didn’t mean to be rude by calling you out of nowhere, it’s just that sometimes people get excited when there is an enthusiastic newbie in the fandom and gladly return to their beloved canons.

Anyway. The dollars trilogy.

I’ll start with The Good, the Band and the Ugly (and will probably make myself instantly unlikable by nitpicking things, (sigh)).

As stupid as it might sound – the film being an absolute masterpiece, a cultural milestone that is timeless, epic, work of genius, love it, will write and draw about it with pleasure etc. – I’m kind of inclined to find the GBU the weakest film in the trilogy storywise. Don’t get me wrong: the plot is interesting and strong, every scene is entertaining, smart, and instantly quotable… But.

There are a few things that make the story, taken holistically, weak to a degree, especially in contrast to the other two films. Now, let me explain my bold-ass claim.

The first reason I couldn’t even pinpoint for myself until my best friend asked me: yeah, it’s all cool and fun, but what has really changed at the end of the film? They stopped the battle/blew up the bridge (kudos for the pacifist message), they killed a few folks on the way including Angel Eyes, but what did the story amount to in the end? Was their relationship changed? Have they themselves learned something about life, universe and everything? Tuco is still on the rope, Blondie still shoots the rope. They both got their money, split it 50/50. Sure, now it’s an insane amount of money but will it make them reconsider their ways of life? I don’t know, and I don’t necessarily think so. They’re really back to square one. If you consider the graphic novel The Man With No Name canon, then (spoiler) Blondie gives his money away to help rebuild the monastery of Tuco’s brother, and Tuco himself doesn’t really invest his share in anything other than booze, and sex, and troubles, so. Then, Angel Eyes got killed off, but he had even less backstory/character arc than, for instance, Captain Clinton, not to mention that his image, as memorable as it was, kind of lacked certain complexity, so, does it really matter storywise (although he is a great, stylish character, but I hope that you get what I mean)? (Note: Angel Eyes should have been the film’s ultimate personification of the war (inhumanely ruthless, only interested in money, extremely goal-oriented etc.), which, the war, kind of is the main antagonist of the film if you think about it; but the way he was used in the plot, the way he acted, and was generally presented, communicated it only in a limited way, imo).

Everything about the adventure was fun, smart, entertaining, one of the best films ever made, I agree 100%, and I rewatched it with pleasure many times. But I believe that stories have to bring about some palpable change in their world in order for them to be successful and finished. The GBU, in my opinion, doesn’t do it because it doesn’t want to be a story-story, and it’s fine with just letting its characters exist in a magic Western/a cowboy fantasy/a fairy tale. And I guess it’s also one of the reasons why the story didn’t go anywhere from the GBU – there is nothing to add to a basis like that. And I can’t help noting that it’s super ironic that the only film in the trilogy that truly seems to be all about money-money-money has no “dollars” in its title.

Another thing that I think is super important: there is almost no female energy or presence in the film. And it’s not even a matter of representation that bugs me, although I think it’s very important. It just feels like there is a deficit of something vital that renders everything even sort of unrealistic. In AFOD we have Marisol and we have Consuelo Baxter, and they’re relevant for the plot, and they have goals, motivations… lines. In FAFDM we have Mary, who has only a few brief moments, but she’s memorable, endearing, and she has a small story/motivation of her own, and we also have Mortimer’s sister, who is EXTREMELY important, and who also isn’t just symbolic, she herself makes a plot-relevant decision on screen, although a really horrible one from my personal moral standpoint. In the GBU we have what? A prostitute that’s beaten up by Angel Eyes (I never watch this scene), another woman at the hotel where Blondie stays in that is shut up and called an old hag or something like it, and another woman that makes a comment about Tuco’s hanging. None of them are memorable or have motivations on their own, and to me it makes the film lacking some really important counterpoint in terms of dynamics etc.

And nobody needs me to describe all the things that the film is awesome at because everybody knows that the film is one of the best films ever made, so painfully gorgeous that it’s difficult to praise it. So, I’ll move on to the other two films but will briefly talk about Tuco and Eli Wallach.

Eli Wallach is considered one of the best actors ever to appear on film for reason, so, I’ll just say about my personal impressions from his performance: he really made me emphasize with Tuco. His acting is incredibly rich, nuanced, concentrated, and, imo, just leaves you no choice but to think of Tuco as a real complex human being, not a film character. And Tuco is a superb character. Over the course of the story he gets to be loathsome, humane, funny, silly, terrifying, and cunning, - often all those at the same time. That’s one hell of a captivating character who’s just very, very interesting to watch and to analyze, regardless whether you like him or not.

Then, we have A Fistful of Dollars. I’m a huge fan of classic adventure stories that are gen, plot-driven, and have smart main characters figuring out a way to get what they want without being destroyed by other characters for wanting or trying to get it in the first place. I think it’s very difficult and very rewarding to write a good story in this genre. AFOD is exactly this kind of story, and this kind of stories is only as good as their protagonists’ maneuvers are. And Joe is, like, a tactical genius (the barrel! the fire!). And it’s much better to rewatch the film to remind yourself of how smart he is than have me talking about it, so.

But apart from that he is also humanized by his deeply personal motivations that appear completely irrational especially in contrast to his clever manipulations of the Baxters and the Rojos. And he doesn’t do it egotistically, to “get the girl,” which wouldn’t make him particularly sympathetic one way or another. Sure, he makes a good buck at the end, but his primary motivation still is justice for Marisol and her family (and then protection of his friend). Additionally, Joe gets his fair share of punishment for providing said justice, which further humanizes him and kind of makes you worry about him. And Silvanito with his scolding, humor, and skepticism helps with it a lot, too.

And then, there is the fact that the film wants the audience to either want to be Joe or want to be with him, sometimes both at the same time. Everybody on screen is a single Joe’s wink away from swooning because how he practically oozes charisma (only Silvanito is immune to his charms). I can’t blame them, though.

And I also want to point out the last lines of the film: Joe says that he doesn’t want to get involved into politics because that would be too much for him, and I think that it’s very fitting. The film just showed how cool he is, but he knows his limits, and he knows that he operates on a different plane.

So, all in all, it’s a masterfully done story.

Finally, we have For a Few Dollars more. I love all three films, but FAFDM is my favorite, there’s no doubt about that. I’ll start with the fact that it’s perfectly structured and perfectly balanced. We have three big players, Mortimer, Manco, and Indio, and the film shows how dangerous and how smart each of them is, so that the conflict between them ends up being very, very suspenseful. Not to mention the fact that it takes Manco and Mortimer almost 40 minutes, I think, to finally properly meet – by that time we are already speculating who will be the winner in the end, how will they react to each other, how will they interact, how will they work together etc. We get to know them quite well first, and then their relationship allows us to explore their characters even deeper through their interactions, their differences, and their similarities. For some time, storywise they become a single unit. While the story of Indio’s assault on Mortimer’s sister is revealed parallel to the plot.

Indio himself is terrifying as hell without being cartoonish. He is a really dangerous, broken man that is also methodical, smart, and ruthless. He is so bad that he kills the opponent’s family just to make him bitter enough to draw on him. And he is so bad that he is okay with killing off his own gang.

Speaking of which, Indio’s gang is colorful. He has interesting interactions with them at the beginning, in that church. And Klaus Kinski made his Wild stand out to me. I swear, the moment he almost cries in that saloon when Mortimer takes away his cigar, I feel bad for him every single time. And when he recognized Mortimer, it was tense. He even had a cool witty one-liner after Mortimer said that he should come to him in ten minutes to help him light that match and smoke: “In ten minutes, you’ll be smoking in hell!”

By the way, Indio’s tendency to get unnecessarily physical with his gang looks even more unnerving when he touches Manco to check his wound/shares a smoke him with some clearly visible eroticized subtext, which gets even creepier when you realize that he is a rapist. I swear, I was worried about Mortimer when I saw the film for the second time – that is even though I knew the plot – because Manco brought up that family resemblance between Mortimer and his sister, and we all know what Indio did to her.

What else? I could bring up all sorts of things, the action, the final duel, the small smart details that allow the plot to happen the way it happens (e.g. how Manco manages to hide the bag with all the money on that tree before Indio’s gang capture him and Mortimer – only to re-collect that bag at the end of the film), the humor, the street kids and all the other cool-cool secondary characters (Joseph Egger’s informer probably is my favorite), the opening sequence and the title card (oops, already rambled about this one) really, anything and everything including the perfect chemistry between Manco and Mortimer.

But I’ll just say that the music in this film is special to me. Every single composition by Ennio Morricone is special, unique, memorable, and intriguing, it’s true, and so it feels redundant and banal to say something like this. The Ecstasy of Gold is almost extraterrestrial, the main theme of Two Mules For Sister Sara imitates actual mule sounds, how genius is that, etc., and you must be dead to not be enticed and mesmerized beyond words by the main theme of the GBU, which is a hymn of all spaghetti Westerns now, a universal call for adventure (I feel like a bad person saying this, but I’ve always wanted to joke that Ennio put sexy back into the “waah-waah”… no, I regret nothing).

BUT. To me personally, the music in FAFDM is as personal as the film itself, and dare I say even more important to the story than in the GBU, despite the theme of the GBU being a kind of Greek choir throughout the film. The personalized sounds for Manco and Mortimer accentuate their personalities to the point where they almost create a reflex in you. The pocket watch chime is literally part of the story and plays a huge, crucial role in the plot! And it’s decidedly one of the saddest musical scores I’ve ever heard. It’s minimalist, mournful, and yet also nostalgically bittersweet. It feels like a reminder that there’s no going back whatever that might mean in the actuality. And the famous moment where Manco asks Mortimer whether his question was indiscreet and Mortimer says that the answer could be… I feel personally touched whenever I watch the scene. For me, it doesn’t feel like just an amazing scene, it triggers some deep emotion that is hard to express and almost gives me the urge to cry. Something along the lines of respectful and compassionate “I’m sorry that it happened to you,” “I’m sorry that I can’t help you.” The feeling of personal tragedy is conveyed infinitely better than a three-volume backstory ever could.

And then, there is this huge potential for all the stories about Manco, and Mortimer, and Blondie, and Tuco, and Angel Eyes, and even Joe to explore... Well, I better stop here.

So, yeah. It turned out to be a crazy long post, and I‘m grateful to anybody who reads it till the end. And if you haven’t watched these movies please do. Cheers.

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