random movie review: The Man From the Boulevard de Capucines

 The storylines of countless Westerns have been set into motion by the arrival of a Mysterious Stranger, an out-of-towner who forever changes the town’s destiny. Sometimes the Stranger is a con man looking to make a quick buck. Sometimes he’s a reluctant hero, not looking for any trouble but forced by circumstance to rise to feats of bravery and selflessness. Sometimes he’s a ruthless outlaw who terrorizes the town until he inadvertently motivates a hero to emerge from the community.

Johnny First is arguably the most unique example of the Mysterious Stranger archetype. He comes to town looking not for heroism, villainy, or opportunity. All he wants to do is share something with the townspeople: a brand new, seemingly miraculous, wondrous new blending of art and technology, which he calls “cinema.”

This is one helluva rough and tumble town for an outsider to venture into. In one of the first scenes, a man’s accidentally ruined steak somehow directly leads to a massive bar brawl that trashes the entire saloon. Harry McCue, the proprietor, is delighted, because destructive brawls are so common that his primary source of income is overcharging his patrons for the damage they cause. Drunkenness, gunfire, prostitution, and violence are such constants in this town that the townspeople don’t even realize that anything’s wrong with the way they live.

Mr. First shows up, befriends the toughest fighter in town (a quick-tempered but otherwise good-hearted young man named Billy King), and shows the saloon patrons a couple of silent films. Until that moment, no one in town had even heard of “cinema.”

Something magical happens: The townspeople are so awe-struck by the wonder of cinema that the town becomes civilized almost immediately. Bar patrons who used to punch someone’s lights out for accidentally bumping into each other now instead apologize. “Please” and “thank you” are suddenly heard on a regular basis. Foul language is suddenly looked down on. The bartender finds himself serving less and less alcohol, as his customers now prefer milk or water.

And that’s just the set-up. The townspeople start to think of Mr. First as a hero, perhaps even a savior, which doesn’t sit well with the local priest, a villainous character who hates Mr. First and his “sinful” movie projector just because hatred and judgmentalism seem to be the priest’s default positions. Harry the saloonkeeper is also torn about the positive changes that Mr. First brought to the town: Harry loves the movies just as much as everyone else, but milk isn’t as profitable as beer and whiskey were, and besides, he can’t overcharge for bar repairs if no one wants to fight anymore.

This movie sure does play to the top of its audience’s intelligence, man. When Mr. First meets the local undertaker, the mortician asks Johnny what is his preferred school of philosophy. When a stereotypically racist cowboy calls a Comanche a “big ape,” the Indian Chief isn’t insulted because he points out that “if he was familiar with the writings of Mr. Charles Darwin, he’d know that he and I share the early apes as a common ancestor.” For a rough and tumble town in the Old West, this place sure has its share of intellectuals.

Is this a good movie? Hard to say. Its intelligence and uniqueness sure deserve kudos. But the pacing is awkward, the songs are awful, the slapstick comedy is somehow flat, and many of the verbal jokes get lost in translation. I have to say I admired the writing much more than I enjoyed the movie. I hate admitting that, because I really want to reward such a creative, smart film with a wholehearted recommendation. Instead, all I can do is shrug and say that I sincerely appreciate the effort.