El Dorado

El Dorado

Back when I was a wee nipper I had a love/hate relationship with Sundays. I loved ’em because I could always (or so it seems now) be guaranteed an afternoon Western and I hated them because Sunday meant Monday wasn’t far away and Monday meant school and school for me was an endless (or so it seemed at the time) bore.

Today (it being a lazy Sunday for me) was a rare Sunday off work and when 12 noon hit I reached for a Western I wanted a movie I hadn’t seen in a while and so I decided on watching Howard Hawk’s El Dorado.

There are not many finer movies than El Dorado it’s damn near perfect or at least it is if like me you love (LOVE) Westerns (in addition to having love for kung-fu and horror movies) modern Westerns tend to be desperately sombre affairs the fun sucked out of them and replaced with what Hollywood decides is historical accuracy. Tarantino’s Westerns (or Southerns) are the exception he’s played around with the genre and created movies that should be fun but in my opinion aren’t. I enjoy most Tarantino movies but I can’t abide Django Unchained or The Hateful Eight (maybe I should watch them again, opinions can change). I don’t know how potty mouthed people in the Wild West were and we assume people back in the day were more, or just as, racist than today but can anyone know, with one hundred per cent accuracy, if that was true or not?

El Dorado is, I suppose, a remake of Howard Hawk’s Rio Bravo, which is of course a classic but then so is El Dorado it’s different enough to make it a completely original movie rather than a direct remake, or re-imagining.

I couldn’t think of a better, more enjoyable, way of spending a lazy Sunday afternoon (with rain falling during British Summertime) than spending it watching a John Wayne Western.


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