Who is the Man with No Name? Names and
Namelessness in Western Fiction
Introduction
The “Man with No Name” m otif has become almost mythical
within the W estern genre o f literature and film. The figure has different
literary/cinematic uses, most notably in Owen W ister’s, The Virginian
and the films o f Italian director Sergio Leone. This m otif seems
exclusive to westems for many reasons that connect to both the real and
fictional W est and to the importance o f the west as a meeting place
between civilization and the wild, how names signify differently in each,
and the desire for self-determination in the characters o f W ister and
Leone. The m otif is more dramatic than meaningful, however, since
literary and filmic names are largely labeling devices, with no true
connection to a character’s observable identity. This paper discusses the
setting, motivations, and results o f the “Man with No Name” m o tif s use
in literature and film.
In the opening scene o f A Fistful o f Dollars (Leone, 1964), as in
many earlier westem tales, a man rides into town. The townspeople look
him over; he’s an unknown. He looks unlike the strangers who have
come before. H e’s wearing a filthy poncho instead o f a neatly laundered
outfit. His old, flat brimmed hat is no Stetson. He sports a scraggly
beard. He has no glittering star, no gleaming pistol, no shining smile. He
rides a mule instead o f a trusty steed and wraps a scowl around a cheap,
short cigar. H e’ll soon kill four men, ostensibly for scaring the mule.
H e’d be the perfect image o f the westem heavy, except for one point:
he’s the “hero.” The biggest difference from the norm— he gives no
name, and doesn’t seem to have a use for one.
The “man with no name” m otif is one associated with relatively
few films and books: most notably, Sergio Leone’s first four westems,
Clint Eastwood’s High Plains Drifter (1973), and at least one very
famous novel, Owen W ister’s The Virginian. Despite that, the m otif is
instantly recognizable— even by people who don’t like westem s—
decades later. Its mention evokes the image o f a dangerous man cloaked
in an extra layer o f mystery. Once examined, however, it is apparent that
rather than intensifying the mystery, this m otif exposes how names and
men without them— or, like the Virginian, men whose names are kept