UNITAS ENCYCLOPEDIA OF POPULAR CULTURE
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release, and won four Academy Awards: Best Picture, Best Director,
Best Supporting Actor (for Hackman), and Best Editing.
These accomplishments were all the more remarkable given the
state of the genre. Within the film industry, the Western was largely
considered dead and gone, and earlier attempts to resuscitate it had
been tepidly received, with the exception of Kevin Costner’s 1990
Western-of-a-sort, Dances with Wolves. David Webb Peoples penned
the Unforgiven script (originally entitled ‘‘The Cut-Whore Killings’’)
in 1976, but it had attracted only slight interest. Francis Ford Coppola
had optioned the script but allowed the option to lapse. Eventually it
was picked up by Eastwood, who sat on the script for some time,
claiming that he needed to age into the lead role of William Munny.
At the beginning of the film, Munny is a struggling hog farmer
raising two young children. A prologue scrolling across the screen
tells of a less domestic Munny, a drunk, an outlaw, and a killer, now
reformed, according to Munny, by his dead wife. But Munny’s
reputation brings to the ranch the Schofield Kid (Jaimz Woolvett),
who lures Munny away in pursuit of a bounty on two cowboys
involved in the mutilation of a prostitute. Munny, in turn, recruits his
partner from the old days, Ned Logan (Freeman). What follows is the
story of their search for the cowboys and their conflict with the law of
the Wyoming town, Big Whisky, and a brutal sheriff named Little Bill
Daggett (Hackman). The killings of the cowboys are pivotal. The first
is that of Davey Boy, whose crime is largely to have been on the scene
at the time of the attack on the prostitute. This is a drawn out and
painful scene in which Munny shoots the cowboy from a distance.
Rather than dropping to a quick death, the cowboy’s life slowly ebbs
while he calls out to his friends for water. Logan is left too rattled by
the murder to continue in pursuit of the other cowboy. The Schofield
Kid, finally living up to his bravado, kills the second cowboy, who is
squatting in an outhouse at the time. The Kid is consequently reduced
to trembling and tears by the gravity of what he has done, realizing
that he isn’t the Billy the Kid figure he has pretended to be.
The final scene is one that critics have found more troubling. It is
a scene that might well be out of the penny dreadfuls of the Old West.
Munny confronts Daggett and his deputies, single handedly killing
five armed men. Munny’s attack is motivated by vengeance against
those who killed his friend, and this, combined with the incredible
odds, turns Munny into a kind of mythological force for vengeance,
despite the film’s earlier attempts to reduce Munny to a very human
and fallible man. Still, it can be argued that the final scene doesn’t
come off quite the way it might in another Western. Given the
unpleasantness of the earlier killings, this scene is tainted, polluted
with the knowledge that, as Munny puts it, ‘‘It’s a hell of a thing
killing a man.’’
Certainly, Unforgiven employs many of the genre’s clichés
while simultaneously undercutting the comfort that comes with such
clichés. This had been done before, particularly in spaghetti Westerns,
but whereas these presented a parody of the Western myth with
almost cartoonish violence, the violence in Unforgiven is decidedly
more realistic. Moreover, whereas many earlier Westerns were brightly
lit, the action in Unforgiven is often shrouded in darkness and haze.
Eastwood dedicated the film to Sergio Leone and Don Siegel,
suggesting a nod to his mentors and influences. Unforgiven is
certainly in the tradition of Leone’s spaghetti Westerns, but Eastwood
carried the tradition to a new level. Putting his own spin on the genre,
he created a new standard, a Western for an era in which the invented
heroics of the past seem less convincing than they may have in the
heyday of the genre. Unforgiven reflects the skepticism of its time,
wherein the old John Ford adage ‘‘When the legend becomes fact,
print the legend’’ doesn’t quite hold up any more. Eastwood’s film
suggests that the legend is a frail thing and that perhaps truer things
have a way of showing though.
—Marc Oxoby
F
URTHER READING:
O’Brien, Daniel. Clint Eastwood: Film-Maker. London, Batsford, 1996.
Schickel, Richard. Clint Eastwood: A Biography. New York,
Knopf, 1996.
Smith, Paul. Clint Eastwood: A Cultural Production. Minneapolis,
University of Minnesota Press, 1993.
Unidentified Flying Objects
See UFOs (Unidentified Flying Objects)
Unitas, Johnny (1933—)
The gaudiest names on the gridiron often are quarterbacks. In the
1990s, such glamour boys as Joe Montana and Steve Young, Dan
Marino and John Elway and Bret Favre have earned the bulk of
National Football League fame. However, none of these superstar
signal callers have anything on Johnny Unitas, otherwise known as
‘‘Mr. Quarterback,’’ ‘‘The Golden Arm,’’ and simply ‘‘Johnny U.,’’
who played for the Baltimore Colts between 1956 and 1972. In his
prime, Unitas was the league’s most renowned, respected, and feared
quarterback. As noted in his enshrinee data at the Football Hall of
Fame, he was a ‘‘legendary hero,’’ and an ‘‘exceptional field leader
[who] thrived on pressure.’’
Johnny U.’s career is defined by a combination of luck, persist-
ence, and hard work. He was born John Constantine Unitas in
Pittsburgh, and began his quarterbacking career as a sophomore at St.
Justin’s High School when the first-string signal caller busted his
ankle. He had a scant seven days to master his team’s complete
offense. As he neared graduation, the lanky six-footer with the
signature crew cut hoped to be offered a scholarship to Notre Dame,
but was denied his wish as the school determined that he probably
would not add weight to his 138-pound frame. Instead, he attended the
University of Louisville, from which he graduated in 1955.
While no college gridiron luminary, Unitas had impressed
people enough to be drafted in the ninth round by the Pittsburgh
Steelers. Unfortunately, the team was overloaded with signal call-
ers—and its coach believed Unitas was ‘‘not intelligent enough to be
a quarterback’’—and so he was denied a slot on the Steelers’ roster.
Unable to hook up with another NFL team, he settled for work on a
construction gang and a spot on the semi-pro Bloomfield Rams,
where he earned $3 per game. Fortuitously, the Baltimore Colts called
him in early 1956 and invited him to a try out the following season. He
was signed to a $7,000 contract, and played for the Colts for the next
17 years before finishing his career in 1973 with the San Diego Chargers.
Unitas was the Babe Ruth, Michael Jordan, and Wayne Gretsky
of quarterbacks. Upon his retirement, he held the NFL records for
making 5,186 pass attempts and 2,830 completions, throwing for
40,239 total yards and 290 touchdowns, tossing touchdown passes in
47 consecutive games, and having 26 300-yard games. He also threw
for 3,000 yards or more in three seasons, and piloted his team to three