Fucking. Fantastic.

For me, this film is defined in one clear moment: the writer has been pinballing from Old Legend to Old Legend, working his way up the food chain, until he hits William Munney. Now, he’s convinced there’s some art to this whole gunslinging thing – something romantic. When faced with this hollow shell of a man – an old mangy dog who nonetheless is carved from oak, he sees a glimpse of the chaos behind it all.

He asks Munney what his strategy was in the gunfight in the saloon, and part bemused, part completely at sea, Munney answers “I guess I’ve just always been lucky when it comes to killin’ folk.”

Fantastic.