Who is the Man With No Name?
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Man with No Name must seem to be someone who could have a name
we would relate to.
Both writers and characters play with namelessness in their own
ways and for their own reasons. A character that keeps his name hidden
from others has many possible motives. One is simply to create mystery
about himself, his abilities, and his intentions, and hopefully gain an edge
over any opponents. This effect is illustrated perfectly in the film Butch
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (Hill, 1969) when Butch frequently stops
to ask, a little more nervously each time, “Who are these guys?” that are
dogging his trail. It is certainly what motivates the harmonica playing
man in Once Upon a Time in the West (Leone, 1968). The nameless man
may, altematively, be trying to hide from his past, either a criminal one
or a famous one. When no one knows who a man is, he can’t be held
accountable for or asked to take responsibility for anything. Such men
populated Bret Harte’s mining camps. He also w on’t have Challengers
out to make their OWN names famous, which is why famed gunfighter J.
B. Books uses a fake name in The Shootist (Siegal, 1976). A man with no
name may simply want to control his identity with a mind toward
Controlling his destiny— in essence, his determination to be only what he
consciously decides to be. This is, perhaps, what motivates Eastwood’s
thrice-filmed bounty hunter from Leone’s canon. A man may also
conceal his name behind a title or alias to increase his reputation and
create a legend, as did the Lone Ranger and Deadwood Dick.
Instead o f running from a criminal past, a character may hide his
identity in the pursuit o f a criminal enterprise, as The Good, the Bad, and
the Ugly (Leone, 1966) doubly illustrates. When Sentenza (Lee Van
Cleef), alias “Angel Eyes,” asks his rival Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan
M aria Ramirez (Eli Wallach), “also known as ‘The Rat’” why he is using
the name “Bill Carson,” the alias o f a third man that Sentenza seeks,
Tuco’s response is revealing to us while evasive to Sentenza. “One name
is as good as another,” he says, pretending the choice was random. “Not
wise to use your own name. Like you! I bet they don’t call you Angel
Eyes. Sergeant Angel Eyes!” he says with a laugh, as if “Angel Eyes”
was his interrogator’s real name. In contrast to Eastwood’s Man with No
Name, his competitors have multiple names to choose from, as suits
them at any given moment, with none being a character’s real name for
certain. With two o f the three main characters doffing and donning
names as if hats, and never providing a name on screen— as he must have
to claim Tuco’s reward on several occasions— the film consciously