A Fistful of Dollars (1964 film) = Finished

The image of the western that I usually have in my head is of the mythic gunslinger, riding into a beleaguered town already having most of what they need to save it. A gun, a lasso...They're self-sufficient. Clever when they need to be, good with a pistol (which contains all the ammunition they'll ever use) when they don't.

Clint Eastwood's character is different. Yes, he's good with a pistol, and can hold himself in a mean standoff, but so much of this movie is rooted in him just making due with what he has. Planning and improvising, constantly, all at once. It's what makes his character truly dangerous, but also sympathetic. The same man who can take down five assailants at once with a squint and a roar of revolver shots can also get the living sh*t beat out of him...Then come back using the friends he's made in the community, and contingencies he sets up as he goes.

The Man With No Name dares the bad guy to shoot him in the heart, because beneath his poncho is a flat piece of metal--the same scrap metal he used to retrain his damaged shooting hand after an awful defeat. He frees himself from a makeshift prison by rolling a barrel of wine onto two of his captors, turning them into pulped, bandanna-wearing pancakes. Hell, he starts a gang war by pulling corpses from bad shenanigans at a nearby river, and uses it to not only profit to an almost laughable degree, but ultimately save the collective day. It's very Die Hard, but long before Die Hard.

The Man With No Name is the best--and it's not because he's alone, or a force unto himself. Far from it.

The Man With No Name is the best, because he is acutely aware of the people, places, and opportunities around him.

...

...Being good with a gun didn't hurt, though.