Dear friends of MBOTW, we are not dead yet! And, even though only a few of you may notice and appreciate the news: we are back with a couple more movie lists to celebrate the five year anniversary of the website, as well as Mik’s 80th birthday. For the occasion, we got him a Stetson cowboy hat, and convinced him to wear it as we celebrated in a fine local saloon sipping exquisite wine and tasting local delicacies with the gang.
Where have we been?
Our friend Radu always says there’s nothing left to say about movies that hasn’t been said before and better, especially when it comes to Westerns, and he might be right, although I think he’d be a better movie critic than many, as the short but always sharp movie review blurbs he dispenses on social media or during bar talks never fail to show. That is however not the reason why we stopped delighting you with our Western movie selections, our long hiatus being due to other priorities and a dose of just plain laziness.
So what kept us busy? Mik has been volunteering for the Red Cross and going for car rides in the mountains, Sonia has been knitting sweaters, scarves and ponchos including this Clint Eastwood-worthy masterpiece:
Vane has been taking care of her patients and worked with her colleagues on successfully growing their practice into a fully equipped medical team of seven doctors offering a wider range of services to the community, Luca published a book of poems and I’ve spent my free time working on a book of interviews and making music with friends. Of course we’ve also spent nice days together, making cappelletti, watching movies, eating out or meeting friends at the bar for aperitivo.
What’s next?
Enough with the chitchat; who’s up for a hearty, comforting dose of Butt Boetticher movies? Mik has been wanting us to publish a “best of” of Boett’s collaborations with Randolph Scott for quite some time, and that’s what we are going to start with. When time allows, we’ll follow up with a list of “anti-Mik” westerns, of the kind he wouldn’t even bother watching because there’s no solace to be found in the unvalorous actions carried out by a bunch of directionless quitters, purposeless losers, outcasts and small-time crooks, nor a comforting happy end, only the real doom and gloom of the painful fight for survival which proves that existential dread was no stranger in the Wild West.
Let’s go!
