Post-Apocalyptic as the Neo-Western

An inquiry into the potential of Post-Apocalyptic films to take on the mantle of Westerns in the exploration of common themes about humanity in the face of a hostile environment

The Dying Western

The Western has been a staple film genre since the earliest days of the art form. Even though there is a relative dearth of Westerns produced, it still maintains its spot in the AFI top 100 films, despite the emergence of other genres that are more vibrant in production.

When I think of the last great Western, the movie that comes to mind immediately is Unforgiven. The Eastwood-helmed film serves not only as a Western, but also as a post-modern commentary on Westerns, as it explores the framework and trappings of the genre while simultaneously providing a superior work. But in recent years, while there have been some films that have ventured back to the Wild West, such as the fun popcorn flick 3:10 to Yuma, the power and appeal of the Western as a genre has generally waned in the face of scif and fantasy epics, slasher flicks, and small, quiet dramas.

In fact, to most young viewers, when asked to name film genres the Western probably won’t even come up. And if it does, it is inevitably connected to homosexuality, thanks to Brokeback Mountain. There is a double-irony to be observed in this kind of relation that is established. Brokeback Mountain finds some of its power in emasculating one of the icons of masculinity, the cowboy. And yet, the contemporary younger viewer misses the irony of this emasculation, because they are unaware of the stereotypical image of the macho cowboy.

It is rather safe to say that the Western may be in its last throes, the equivalent perhaps of a senior in a nursing home, visited once in a while by their offspring and those that still remember them fondly, but generally avoided by the younger kids because they smell old. And of course, because they aren’t cool. Indeed what appeal has the lone gunslinger now, the Man with No Name on the ridge with the cigar and poncho, the valiant sheriff who faces a band of outlaws at high noon?

Even going beyond the idea that most people don’t have a sense of that history (indeed how much do we Filipinos know of that, our own cultural consciousness of it being reflected by the long-extinct Pancit Westerns and not much else) and considering that the Maverick as a stereotype has been painted so negatively in contemporary culture (we are always promoting fitting in, individuality but only in terms of expression but not a true, personal moral code that wavers from the socially acceptable), how are younger viewers to take seriously a genre that has always had a decidedly macho stance when their immediate referent has them recalling images of Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal frolicking in the fields?

And yet I will argue that we need Westerns. Within the parameters of the Western genre we see, admittedly portrayals of patriarchy, but also the portrayal of numerous values that seem to be lost. The contemporary settings which we have are hotbeds of ambiguity, where we see the grays, where the lines of good and evil, right and wrong are always shifting. But in the sunburst backdrops, in the prairies and the deserts, the saloons and brothels, the sheriff’s office and the town hall, the distinctions between these things are easier to distinguish. And even when we have a maverick, or a Robin Hood-type, a righteous outlaw, we know on which side we are meant to fall.

We see in Westerns extensions of the values of chivalry, the need to help the weak who cannot fend for themselves, the constant moral questioning that that setting provides. For what are Westerns but exhibitions of people in a hostile land, devoid of formal government, trying to make their way. Decency is most often punished (usually by bandits or other bad guys), weakness most often taken advantage of. And it is up to the good to protect the decent and the weak, often taking a toll on the good, as they are forced to adopt the evil’s methods to protect the decent and weak.

The Western speaks of the uncharted frontier, a chaotic land filled with hostiles (bandits, Indians, thieves, and the list goes on) and the people who are trying to establish a life there. Without formal government and formal social structures, stripped of social conventions and social norms, we have people who either slip into savagery or who hold on doggedly, heroically, to their humanity. And it is in these traits that one can find commonalities with the Post-Apocalyptic setting.

The Post-Apocalyptic Possibilities

Post-apocalyptic settings can be wildly varied, from a Waterworld to a robot dominated Terminator or Matrix to post-zombie apocalypse settings, to the usual barren, desolate wastelands that we have come to see more and more often. What they all do have in common (with each other as well as with Westerns) is that they have people trying to make a life in a world where the old rules, the old social structures are gone. It is up to the people to define how they will live, and they are always under constant threat from the environment and from human threats that would take advantage of them.

It is here then that we see that the Western may be dying, but there is a chance for its spirit and its values to be passed on to a genre that is more relevant to contemporary viewers. Indeed, Westerns began just as the Wild West was being tamed, and thus their appeal to that generation. Today’s viewers, on the other hand, have no consciousness of that world, except for what they have gotten through media (and what little that is, all things considered), but constant in our minds is the prospect of an Extinction Level Event, in all of its various incarnations, whether it come from global warming, a killer virus, earthquakes, tidal waves, nuclear war, zombies, or a hostile Singularity.

Ahead of the curve by a few years, as he usually is, is Joss Whedon with the much-loved but quickly-axed Firefly. Here we see the Space-Western, a seamless integration of two genres. While it is set off-world though, Whedon’s Firefly universe wasn’t too focused on post-apocalypse, but rather in portraying space and terra-formed planets as a new frontier, turning the outer planets into the Wild West.

To clarify, Firefly portrays a kind of apocalypse. In its mythology the Earth could not sustain and man took to the stars. Its focus though, is on how man handles taking over many planets in the universe. Like the movement west in the 19th century, we see people making establishments and trying to make lives for themselves. What Firefly further portrays is the relationship between the Alliance and the outer planets.

In the larger scheme of things, Firefly presents us a world where the Core planets are more technologically advanced. Their proximity to the center makes aid easier and we see that the privileges, both political and personal, on these planets are vastly different from the outer planets. This works as a direct referent to what we see today, in Third World politics, where the Core in our contemporary case would be the First World Countries, while the periphery would be the Third World countries. The obvious impositions made by the hegemony are likewise observed in both instances, as we come to a Firefly universe where the Alliance has taken control of and subdued the Independents, or Browncoats.

Former Browncoats lead a ragtag crew through their adventures. We observe here Captain Mal Reynolds, portrayed by Nathan Fillion, as a successor to Han Solo, with Solo himself a charming rogue who finds his place fighting on the side of right. Further we observe the values of individuality, non-conformity, and questioning of a hegemony as parts of the show’s main themes. “People don’t like to be meddled with,” and “They aim to misbehave,” two crucial tag lines from the film adaptation Serenity both make reference to this rugged individuality that one must possess to survive in the frontier, outside of the gaze of normal society.

But where the Firefly universe shows us a setting very similar to both contemporary Third World politics and the American westward expansion by showing us other galaxies and the dynamics between planets, we see also the potential in newer post-apocalyptic films that are set firmly on Earth, exploring how people deal with the immediate effects of a cataclysmic event.

Two recent films in particular, The Road and The Book of Eli consistently question the toll that a post-apocalyptic world takes on humans and their humanity. Though of distinctly different visual styles, both portray the formation of roving bands of marauders and a rule of the land defined by ferocity and violence.

Similarly, both films have us follow characters whose moral boundaries are challenged.

In The Road we see a protagonist who, in surviving the apocalypse and having to protect his son, has his moral code regularly questioned. He finds himself redefining his own limitations of what he is willing to do in order to protect and provide for his son. We observe the interactions with fellow humans to be regularly hostile, as there is no formal sense of government and people wander around lost. Though we are never shown a rebuilding, the film shows the values of the young (in particular the protagonist’s son) important, as it is these values that will define how the world will be rebuilt. The constant moral questioning that happens between father and son and their interactions with other travelers leaves both the characters and the viewers wondering at what kind of world can be built, and if there is a sense of goodness that can exist in such a ravaged world.

The Book of Eli, is decidedly more of a Western, as its visual style and themes draw directly from classic Westerns. And thus it serves as a great template for the potential of the post-apocalyptic film to explore what a rebuild society would look like. Set 30 years after the ELE, it still has marauders and wild people on the road, but also towns that have been established and we see that there is a clear rebuilding process that is happening. It is here that the film flourishes, as it shows the moral and ethical questions that are made in rebuilding society, asking what kind of leaders one should have and how one should lead. While the film isn’t as powerful as it could be, it serves as a clear template for the potential of future films that may follow it.

Where to Now?

While other films worry about the machines that might enslave us, or the viruses that might get us, the stories of our humanity are to be found in those films that show people trying to rebuild society. Indeed if the rule of the road is kill or be killed, how does one survive without being a killer? If one is to preserve humanity, to build a humane society in such a hostile environment and hostile world, what kind of actions must be taken?

We see, then, with those questions, that there is a clear intersection between the themes and ideas that both the Western and the post-apocalyptic film explore. Considering the popularity of the post-apocalyptic film at the international level, one can ask, will this setting begin to make its way into Filipino film? I doubt it will, at least in major studio efforts. But it would be interesting to see the Filipino’s take on such a situation, and on how Filipinos would view how our society would restructure itself in the aftermath of an apocalyptic event.