Unforgiven is my favorite Western movie and my second favorite movie of all time, which is really saying something, considering the number of movies I’ve been watching on Netflix since schools closed in mid-March. Most Westerns focus on stories about killing bandits for money or robbing banks, however Unforgiven focuses on the emotions of brotherhood, hatred, anger and grief which most Westerns tend to ignore. It shows us the effects violence (and the inability to turn away from killing) have on who we are–deep inside. Unforgiven tells the story of an old man named William Munny, who used to be a cruel, blood-thirsty gunslinger. But when the movie begins, we learn that his wife has died, which has made him rethink his whole profession. So now he is just a plain, old farmer trying to raise his two young kids. However, when he learns that there is a high bounty ($1000!) on a group of outlaws for physically assaulting a local woman, he decides he has no choice but to pick up that gun again. Along the way, he is joined by his friend, Ned Logan, and the Schofield Kid. Like I said before, Unforgiven is not like other Westerns. Most Westerns have gunslingers kill people on sight, and they’re mostly just fun adventures with twists and turns. For example, The Good, The Bad, And the Ugly is a classic Western movie with interesting characters and an exciting plot line, however, it doesn’t really make you feel any emotion towards all the deaths throughout the film and the pain of the Civil War (the Wild West era began at the end of the Civil War, 1865, and lasted till around 1895). The movie pretends that killing is normal and that it is so easy to do it. Unforgiven, however, takes you deeper into the characters’ actions and the pain. Whenever someone kills another person during the movie, you feel his/her real pain and suffering. The person doesn’t just walk away after wielding the fatal blow, but instead, shakes and shivers in fear and sadness. The movie also presents and develops characters that are perfectly suited for the story. One such character is a gunslinger named English Bob, who travels with a journalist interested in writing a book about Bob and all his “heroic” adventures. The relationship between these characters is perfect because (and I won’t spoil it) English Bob is somewhat of a liar and traitor. The journalist never thinks for a moment that this brilliant gunslinger may actually be a liar, who is just exaggerating about his wild exploits. Such irony! Another great thing about Unforgiven and what makes it so awesome is that characters often have a weakness or tragic flaw that is exposed near the end of the movie, and which fundamentally changes how we perceive them. For most of the movie, Munny’s two sidekicks, Ned Logan and the Schofield kid, claim they can kill a whole group of bandits, but when faced with real killers, they turn into helpless individuals who are scared of killing and scared of what having a reputation as a killer might do to their lives. In most Westerns, such themes are usually ignored. William Munny sums up it well when he says: “It’s a hell of a thing, killing a man. You take away everything he’s got, and everything’s he’s ever gonna have.” The actors of course are all top-notch – they include Clint Eastwood (or the Man with No Name), Morgan Freeman, and Gene Hackman. Their performances are so convincing that they made me think about the real Wild West and how people might have looked, talked and lived during those times. After watching Unforgiven, I kept on thinking about one of the greatest video games I’ve ever played, Red Dead Redemption 2. It’s about a gang of outlaws in 1899 who grow increasingly desperate for money. But as the gang starts to fall apart, the main protagonist, Arthur Morgan, changes his perspective about himself and of his gang. Now instead of continuing to be the bloody killer he used to be, he becomes a loving man and is scared to continue his spree of killing with his remaining gang members. It is one of the only video games that made me cry at the end. Unforgiven is a sweet, but also a sour movie. The premise sounds simple, but as you look deeper into the film, you’ll see it’s extremely powerful. It’s one of those movies that has stood and will continue to stand the test of time. Important note from the Stone Soup Editors: Readers should talk to and obtain permission from their parents or other responsible adult before watching this movie, which is rated R in the USA. More information that may be helpful is available at Kids-in-Mind, which scored it 3.6.5. Unforgiven (1992), directed by Clint Eastwood. Winner of 4 Academy Awards, 3 Golden Globes, 1 BAFTA.
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Weekly Writing Workshop #2, Friday April 10, 2020: Comfort
An update from our second Weekly Writing Workshop! The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements. Every Friday, we meet for one hour via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. At our session on Friday April 10, we introduced ourselves and discovered that besides Stone Soup team members calling in from Canada, the UK and the USA, we had workshop members from Canada and across the United States–Massachussetts, New York, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma and California were all represented! This week, William Rubel, Stone Soup’s founder, set the challenge for the group, suggesting that we write about COMFORT for 30 minutes before coming back together to read and discuss what we’d written. The Writing Challenge: Write a story, poem, or other prose, on Comfort. Use the idea of comfort, not just the word: you can consider notions like comforting, comfortable. The Participants: Anya (13), Analise (9), Liam (12), Abhi (12), Vivian (11), Lucy (12), Mico (13), Silas (10), Georgia (11) Our participants were inspired in different ways by this idea. The examples below touch on some recognisable themes of cosy fires, soothing cups of tea, and cool water on a beautiful day. Other contributions included a gripping story about a disappearing brother, challenging the idea that comfort is necessarily a good thing; and a thought experiment about the mysterious Miss Rose and her disappearing comfortable chair. Below you can read just a few examples of the great work that came out of the workshop. The Little Cottage, by Anya G., 13 Rain lashed at the windows Spraying them Stinging them With icy droplets of water That streaked down the glass The wind howled Whipping around the little island Chasing itself, over and over Like a vacuum Sucking soul from the world And on the little island Trees were bent, contorted Threatening With every creak, every groan To fall through the frozen air But inside the little cottage With its thatched roof And smoke twirling merrily into the abyss of sky Orange light glowed through windows Commanding the dark to retreat The air was warm in the cottage Flushed with the aroma of baking bread A scent that wrapped itself around you Soothing, like a favorite blanket On the coldest of nights And a fire crackled cheerfully Each pop and whiz writing a song While the flames danced along An uplifting tune A reminder of the happiest of days With mugs of steaming tea With volumes of cherished books Well-cared for in their old age The little cottage sheltered And cozily outwaited the storm Untitled, by Anya G., 13 The water is cool, collected It rolls over me Submerging me in its underwater bliss So faint now are the shouts of joy As kids swim over my head There is nothing here And yet it is a rich nothing An emptiness that resonates Clear as a bell I should be thankful To be a part of this holy space With its ripples of light A crystal clear emptiness Stretching on forever Sunrise by Lucy Rados, 12 I sat on the bench, Dew covering the ground, Fog obstructing my view. A mug of hot tea in my hand, The steam rising as if tendrils of comfort are wrapping around me. A blanket Draped over my shoulders; A shield to the chilly autumn air. I look to the east As a sliver of light Pierces the mist. The light rises Spreading comfort through me. Pink and orange Flood the sky Like a wave crashing over my head. The whispers of wind Throw my hair around. I know I am safe By the comfort around me, By the sunrise to the east
The Virus, a poem by Avah Dodson, 11
The Virus By Avah Dodson, 11 As I lie in bed I can hear Mom sobbing into Dad’s arms. They’re dying. What are we going to do? Who? I wonder as I drift off. No one I know. I wake up to rustling, like a lost mouse Scurrying from an invisible threat. Dad is getting up early to go to the store. But why, I ask, Why can’t we go to Starbucks Like we always do? I have to shop early, he replies, Or everything will be out. Get a donut for me, I call. He returns with bags stuffed with Slightly old strawberries, Capers, organic eggs, soymilk, But no donut. My school classes start—awkward, virtual classes— But at least I get to see my friends On the blinking screen. Upstairs, my brother in his online class, Dad tapping on his laptop downstairs, Mom emailing on her phone in the kitchen, We are like bees, trapped in their own hive. Our WIFI glitches, overloaded. I have to get out of the house, Mom says. She and Dad take a half bottle of French wine from the cellar. Going for a walk, they say, We’ll be back soon. When they come back, The bottle is empty. My forehead is 99.8. Mom buys medicine. Just to be safe, she says, As if she weren’t buying it To remind herself That we have free shipping And Amazon Prime. Mom whispers to Dad but I can hear. She helps refugees and Holocaust survivors. Today someone called her, desperate for help. His disabled daughter was alone, homebound. A few hours ago she opened Her last can of beans. We couldn’t help her, Mom whispers. I lie in bed. Our symptoms from this pandemic are mild, Immunized by our privilege. Who is dying? Many. Millions. I lie awake. Avah Dodson, 11 Lafayette, CA
