Stillwell goes West.

Episode Five. A Western display.

The success of his promotions were not entirely to his liking. The quiet little store was his own space, shared reluctantly with one or two devoted film fans. The constant stream of customers, brought mainly by word of mouth, had become almost annoying, an intrusion into his quiet private world. As he was dismantling the old display, he questioned what he wanted to do next. He understood that for an increasing number he provided a service. In the streaming world of modern cinema, he was a resource of the unexpurgated, the restored, hidden extras or the director’s vision.

Gradually, as the posters were rolled up and slid back into their cardboard tubes and the unsold titles were once more distributed back amongst the library of his stock, he began to appreciate that a successful sales pitch was fleeting in nature. Before the next chosen display, the confines of his shop would resume its standard lethargic identity and allow him to once more perch upon his stool and not be bothered by so many people.

As with all his work, each idea was born of his love of pure movie making. Beginning with a title, it may stay as that or expand to include the film makers work or an entire genre within which the original film he had selected could sit. Sometimes his initial choices were too obvious and he sought out the more obscure or more noteworthy, rather than purely the most well-known or successful. He read articles and reviews. He studied an actor’s portfolio of work or a director’s style and creativity. He liked to see how some of the older figures in cinema had directly influenced the more recent directors, cinematographers and musical compositions used.

While trying to find inspiration he had seen an advert selling a set of card board cut outs of characters from a western film. The auction site was a favourite source of obscure memorabilia and he placed a reasonable bid, confident that his offer would be accepted. He knew he had several copies of the particular film in his stock. They would all be the latest 4K releases, with the extended running time of this already epic piece of cinema. He had posters in the back of the store somewhere and large black and white photos of the four main stars, accompanied by a brief biography of each. He was tempted to broaden the scope of this latest project and build a profile of perhaps the director or the legendary man behind the iconic music, but in the end, he settled for this one masterwork.

It reminded him that he had nor actually watched the entire piece for some time. The last occasion he had watched the twenty-minute opening sequence. Studying the artistry of how the director drew you in with nothing seemingly happening, building tension as the audience is forced, much like the three individuals portrayed in the scene, to wait for the arrival of something. He had been so satisfied with the opening that he actually stopped watching at that point. It had been said that the opening scene itself was like a movie of its own, an Amuse Bouche, before the main course arrived. Stillwell promised himself that he would sit and watch the entire film again soon.

While he was waiting for all the elements of his display to appear he happily allowed the space to remain empty. It caused his regulars to make their visits brief and didn’t initiate any awkward conversations or confrontations with individuals foolish enough to test his patience. The quiet solemnity returned to his premises. His contentment complete as he balanced on his comfortable stool and wrote words in his black leather notebook. Several thousand of them this last week, as the interruptions dwindled. Even the interlopers who arrived, as if by mistake, to break his concentration and halt the flow of his narrative were down to the odd one or two. No one necessary to dispatch, beyond some well-chosen words and a look that invited unimaginable instant violence, should they stay longer within his domain.

The auction items appeared over the weekend and he was able to stand one of them up in the stock room, to see the quality of the purchase. He played a little game within the confines of the room and approached the figure from behind. An homage to the directors panning shot of the first sighting of this character in the film. Moving around the side of the actor and slowly bringing the face into a stunning widescreen close up shot. The piercing blue eyes set within a grimy unshaven face, that exuded pure evil, yet from an actor known throughout the world for his unequivocal goodness and decency. Here he was, this movie heavyweight, seconds away from committing a horrific act of violence. Stillwell wondered what those audiences must have thought when this sadistic murderer, played by such a stalwart actor of civility and kindness, stared out from the screen at them.

The next figure he unboxed was the mysterious stranger from the film. The director had originally wanted to cast Clint Eastwood as the enigmatic stranger, but by that time Clint was certainly no longer ‘The man with no name’, but probably the second most famous western actor after John Wayne. The actor finally cast in the role was at the peak of his career and gave a startling performance as the ‘man on a mission’, hell bent on revenge that the audience are not aware of as the glorious opening sequence plays out.

The female character was a departure for the director. In his previous work the female roles always seemed secondary to the slow burning tension, before the desperately quick acts of wanton or premeditated violence. The actress appears in the film, looking completely out of place in the frontier town environment. We then begin to understand her true nature and background. There is a formidable hardness and determination to succeed within her, that the director almost fumbles, but the audience are given just enough to empathise with her situation.

The final character feels like a message. The end of an era. A world-weary individual at odds within the world where this movie is set. He becomes the link between the old and the new. Deftly portrayed as laconic, humorous and honestly aware of his own demise within the framework of his time. Stillwell now had the four figures arranged in his store, two either side of his display. It gave the area a three-dimensional feel that pleased him. He fanned out the copies of the films and stuck up the posters as a backdrop, along with the actor biographies he had found. He also had some pictures of other minor cast members. The main three were the wonderful actors used in the opening sequence of the film, frequently seen in movies of this genre and used before by the director.

It took about a week for Stillwell to get another problematic visitor. Prior to this individual entering the shop the display had enthralled his regulars and sales had resulted. Additionally, he got to have some delightful conversations with those appreciative of the work of the director and this piece in particular. This new face was unwelcome, but not altogether unexpected. Someone from the ‘gaming’ generation Stillwell surmised. Someone looking for an easy watch, not an enthralling 165-minute masterwork of a story.

Stillwell sighed, once more he closed his black leather notebook and placed his silver pen upon it.

“I don’t recognise any of these actors”, the male had that modern confrontational speaking tone. The fact he didn’t know any of the actors portrayed in the display just made it plain wrong in his eyes.

“I appreciate it’s difficult when a film is older than in all likelihood you are, but that is not an excuse when appreciating something. There are centuries of art, culture and moments of historical significance that are still worthy, despite being before your birth”, Stillwell endeavoured to keep his words as simple as possible.

“Are you taking the piss?” the man now bristled with indignation that someone had actually dared to criticise or disagree with him and he moved closer to Stillwell.

“I am simply stating that it is a curious philosophy to dismiss things simply because you have not heard of them or they occurred before your puerile existence”, Stillwell cast his line and hoped to hook his prey.

He was not disappointed. The intruder took several seconds to recognise the insult and Stillwell could see a brief effort flit across his eyes, as he initially thought about a verbal response, but it was too much for his compact and feeble brain to assimilate and he resorted to type and kicked over one of the cardboard figures from the display.

“Fuckin’ old shit”, was the best he could manage.

“Sadly, your inept display of pique is both predictable and unwelcome. On this occasion you have wondered into the wrong establishment”, Stillwell stared hard at the figure who now grew quiet when he saw the expression on Stillwell’s face.

“I, well, I….”, the figure looked down sheepishly at his feet and switched weight from each foot as he grew more uneasy.

In a flash Stillwell was pointing his gun at the lone customer. The man was now frozen to the spot, fear emanating from his face, a look of absolute terror across his pale visage.

Stillwell stood up from his stool and moved in front of his counter. A cruel and evil grin on his face as he now stood in front of the quivering fool.

“I had thought to scare you, but…………..” Stillwell fired the gun, hitting the man in his chest. The eyes widened with shock as blood began to flow from the mortal wound.

“ You know, people scare better when they’re dying”. Stillwell uttered these few words as the man swayed in front of him, before falling forward, crashing to the floor, his head only inches from Stillwell’s feet.