Most filmmakers tend to be devoted to movie history. Any new motion picture with serious intentions provides an opportunity for a director to respond to cinematic traditions, whether reverentially or critically. For example, the first major Western in which I was featured, A Fistful of Dollars, was a remake of Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo, which was in turn a playful parody of Kurosawa's own earlier samurai films. Like most members of the cinematic community, I have always taken pleasure in exploring connections and chains of influence like these.
I also recognize influences in my own work. I dedicated Unforgiven to a pair of filmmakers who had some effect on my early years of directing: Sergio Leone and Don Siegel. Growing up, I experienced many of the classic Western films by the likes of John Ford, Howard Hawks, William Wellman, and Anthony Mann—and watched quite a few of the not-so-great Westerns to boot. When a Western movie is done right, with the passionate commitment of everyone involved, it rises above mere entertainment or spectacle.
The genre has outlasted the critics who have predicted its demise ever since D. W. Griffith directed his one-reel “oaters.” But the public's recognition of the Western movie as a genuine art form was a long time coming, and it helped that the right people lent a hand in making that acknowledgement clear. Mary Lea Bandy is one of those individuals, and I got to know her when the Museum of Modern Art began programming screenings and retrospectives of my films, starting in the early 1980s. Mary Lea also worked with Bruce Ricker in coproducing the documentary Clint Eastwood: Out of the Shadows.
Countless pages have been written about the Western film over the years. But often these books and essays, while dealing with plots and actors and directors, do not explain why these movies, or at least the best of them, belong to a genuine art form. Ride, Boldly Ride offers such an appreciation. Many of the films discussed here have a powerful effect on viewers, not only because of the acting performances and directorial styles, but also because their stories revolve around themes of violence and tragic loss, and because their images reveal the beauties and challenges of the natural landscape. In addition, the best Westerns offer a feeling of adventure and exhibit a visual tempo that is not unlike musical composition.
Mary Lea's book draws the reader's attention to some of the Western films that have been underappreciated or that do not neatly correspond with rigid definitions of the genre. While there is much that we can learn here about classics like Stagecoach and Red River, the book also pays tribute to such movies as 3 Bad Men, The Wind, The Big Trail, Ruggles of Red Gap, The Westerner, Northwest Passage, Jubal, and Comanche Station. With movies like these, it is clear that the Western film has a broad and rich history, one in which I am proud to have played a role.
—Clint Eastwood