For A Few Dollars More 1965 Torrents
Drifting from town to town, the poncho-clad Man with No Name and the lightning-fast right hand rides into the town of El Paso, in search of the maniacal escaped convict, El Indio. It's been eighteen short months since the deadly confrontation in A Fistful of Dollars (1964), and this time, the solitary stranger, now a professional bounty hunter, will have to go against his beliefs and do the unthinkable: join forces with the hawk-eyed marksman, Colonel Douglas Mortimer, to collect the hefty reward. Now, as El Indio and his cut-throats have already set their sights on robbing the crammed-with-cash Bank of El Paso, the stage is set for a bloody showdown at high noon, against the backdrop of silent double-crosses and fragile allegiances. But, is it worth dicing with death for a few dollars more?
For A Few Dollars More 1965 Torrents
This film was Italy's third highest grossing film in 1965 behind For a Few Dollars More and the original film, A Pistol for Ringo. Here, Captain Montgomery "Ringo" Brown (Giuliano Gemma) comes back to his homestead to find his family decimated, his property stolen by Mexican bandits and his fiancee about to marry Paco Fuentes, the villain behind all this.If you're like, hey, is this an Italian Western version of The Odyssey, you're right.While Nieves Navarro doesn't reprise her role from the first Ringo film, she does play the tarot card-reading saloon girl Rosita. Antonio Casas also comes back in a different role as a sheriff who has been dominated by the gang and hey - Lorella DeLuca is also in both movies.Actually, this movie is totally different from the original to the point that the more cynical of us could just believe that they threw the Ringo title on it after the original was such a success.That doesn't mean you shouldn't watch it. It's definitely a worthy Western packed with rich drama and plenty of satifying violence. When asked to pick his top twenty Italian Westerns, Quentin Taratino selected this as number ten.
Il ritorno di Ringo (The Return of Ringo) is directed by Duccio Tessari and Tessari co-writes the screenplay with Fernando Di Leo. It stars Giuliano Gemma, Fernando Sancho, Hally Hammond, Nieves Navarro, Antonio Casas, George Martin and Manuel Muniz. Music is by Ennio Morricone and cinematography by Francisco Marin.After fighting in the American Civil War, Ringo (Gemma) returns to his home town of Mimbres to pick up his life from pre the conflict. However, he finds the town is in the grip of Mexican bandits run by brothers Paco (Martin) and Esteban Fuentes (Sancho), their control over things extending to Ringo's wife, Helen (Hammond)...No Entry For Dogs, Gringos And Beggars. A sequel of sorts to A Pistol for Ringo (1965), with the same makers, cast, locations etc reconvening for a different story and scenarios, this ranks as one of the better follow up movies going. After a wonderfully sang title song opens up proceedings and we get introduced to Ringo (officially Montgomery Brown) via a bit of gun play and story setting, pic quickly identifies itself as a mournful revenge and rescue piece. We are deftly placed on the side of the protagonist, rooting for him to claim back his life and in the process rescuing his loved ones and vanquishing the whole town from racist bloody tyranny. It's a classic Western tale told with style at a suitably unhurried pace, the characters are formed because they get time to breathe, all relevant to the journey and the final destination that Tessari is taking us to.I've come back Paco Fuentes!With Sancho and Martin delightfully vile as the villains, it falls to Gemma to turn in a good one as our hero, and so it is. Ringo is a great character as written, his world turned upside down, and he has been funeralized as well! Ringo gets beaten, stabbed and emotionally battered, but he fights with guts and cunning. He is really cool as well, during adversity he can climb a rope one handed, cock his rifle the same, he is even prone to free falling from rooftops to enact skillful kill shots. For sure this is a Spaghetti Western hero for the ages. The natural beauty in the tale is obviously in the form of Hammond (socko gorgeous) and Navarro (socko sexy), these both dovetail nicely with the more grungy aspects of story and character actions and moral standards. While the makers enjoy filling the play with colourful support characters, such as a camp florist, alcoholic sheriff and a fortune telling whore.Tech credits are very high. Tessari has a superb eye for a telling eye catching scene or sequence, cue Ringo doing a slow walk down the street, his form transformed via a number of coloured glass windows, scenes such as the way Ringo and Helen's initial recognition is lighted for ultimate worth, Ringo rapid fire with bandaged arm as a rest, strategic motifs like a knife thrown in a heart drawn on a tree, and of course the justifiably famous scene of Ringo in a doorway with dust storm raging around him, a scene that's as chilling as it is thrilling. Stunt work is great as well, in a sub- genre of film known for its exaggerations, it's pleasing to see so many falls enacted with genuine believability, none more so than for the exhilarating last quarter of film. This last quarter brings our hero into his pomp, all while bodies and buildings are way laid by bullets (get that wicked Butterfly monikered artillery repeater!), an action prelude to the final outcome that we want, in fact demand!Then finally there's Morricone, whose score is one of his non Leone best. It's a swirl of emotions, darting in and around the main character, occasionally rising to thunderclap status for key dramatic scenes, with a music box tie-in that's heart achingly effective. Morricone's work is the cherry on the cake, for this is a superb Spaghetti Western of blood, brains and balls, and worth seeking out by anyone interested in the better half of this mixed sub-genre of film. 8.5/10
Seniors in the class of 1873 were confronted with a long array of propositions in an examination in history. One read, "Explain the bearing of Physical Geography upon the support of population and the development of national industry and civilization. " A second challenge summoned the student to "give an account of the relation of Medieval cities to the Feudal Lords and the Royal Power, respectively." And another called for "illustrations of the various collisions between Asiatic and European civilization, and [state] the fundamental significance and justification of the Crusades." Since the paper contained ten more items of similar dimensions, it is small wonder that students protested that examinations were too long and too hard. By way of solace Janitor Withal, in keeping with custom, "furnished apples in both solid and liquid form" at the end of examinations. Cheating or "cribbing" was due, a student explained, to the pressure for high marks, and it was demanded that the faculty should protect honest men by severely penalizing cheaters. 11 Medieval and modern history and in 1878 Sanskrit, oldest of the Indo-European languages, were introduced to the curriculum; and as early as 1872, antedating Charles Eliot Norton at Harvard, Anderson started to offer lectures to Seniors on the history of art, and continued to do so until 1886. The public was welcome to attend and Rochester society ladies flocked to the class, crowding the room to capacity. Photographs and engravings were extensively used and the lectures involved discussion of aesthetic principles and the bearing of the fine arts on culture in general; as a by-product of the Anderson course, it appears, a group of Rochester citizens formed an organization to establish a public art gallery in the city. Student spokesmen begged for more instruction in French and German, one heretic remarking, "Much of the time spent in study of Latin and Greek... after the Sophomore year is ... practically wasted." A second voice appealed for greater attention to English literature at the ancient expense of the Classics. "Eight term [courses] are devoted to math, more to the classics," a protestant complained, "while hardly one is given to literature." English study, it was said, would be more pleasurable than Greek and would have more practical value after graduation. Instead of having history taught as side-line, as it were, by professors who were not specialists, a chair in history ought to be created, it was urged. After a Rochester oculist gave Seniors a series of non-technical lectures on the "Eye," a cry went up for more of the same. By faculty action in 1872, candidates for a degree in science were obligated to study as much Latin as was necessary for groundwork in modern languages and scientific terminology. About the same time, juniors and seniors were permitted to substitute for prescribed classes courses calculated to prepare them for graduate work, or for the vocation they had in mind. This modest measure of choice was spoken of in official U. of R circles as a concession to "the spirit of enlightened conservatism." And a scheme of "honors studies" in a particular department was announced for superior, competent students; the work emphasized independent investigation and achievement was tested in a searching examination. If successful, the student received special mention at the Commencement exercises and in the annual college catalogue. 12 To meet an insistent demand, a laboratory of chemistry was fitted up in the basement of Anderson Hall, although space was limited and it was necessary to apply a year in advance in order to be sure of a bench at which to work. Odors from chemical experiments impregnated the atmosphere of the mathematics room on the floor directly above, but the professor resigned himself to the inescapable--until he discovered that the noxious smells sometimes issued from the bottles of chemicals mischievously placed underneath his rostrum. Calling the attention of the trustees to the need for a building in which to teach chemistry and physics and to carry on research, the President reminded the managers of the University that it was "always desirable that every teacher be, to a certain extent, an original investigator... able to add somewhat to the branch of knowledge he professes." A student, experimenting with nitroglycerin, touched off an explosion that knocked out the windows of the improvised chemical laboratory, though no one was injured. In addition to the primitive chemical laboratory in the cellar of Anderson Hall, a private laboratory for the professor of chemistry was attached to his lecture room. "We had very little work in the laboratory," George E., Olds, 1873, recalled. "In physics there was no laboratory at all. All we saw was demonstration work, with the use of an old-fashioned air pumps some magneto-electric apparatus, an insulated stool, upon which in succession we took our stand, became electrified, and felt our hair stand on end." Whereas the master's degree had traditionally been awarded almost as a matter of course to graduates (or as an honorary distinction), after 1878 it was restricted to U. of R. graduates of three years standing who gave evidence of "satisfactory progress in liberal studies," or after satisfactory performance of a year of graduate work, including preparation of a thesis on a piece of individual investigation. 13 IV Expansion of campus facilities, crowned by the erection of Sibley Hall, and beautification of grounds moved modestly ahead. To heat rooms in Anderson Hall, coal replaced (1869) wood as fuel, but student complaints of insufficient warmth in the rigorous months of winter were common. "The stoves in the chapel are very ornamental, but a little fire every morning would add to comfort," an undergraduate wryly observed. After the President had devoted a chapel talk to the health hazards of cold weather, the students repaired, we are told, to a "fireless recitation room." In a fiery letter to the Campus, an undergraduate blamed the janitor for failure to keep rooms warm and recommended that unless he bettered his ways he should be discharged; "My feet are cold, but my indignation is hot," and the writer signed himself "Yours freezingly." Carriage drives on the campus were laid out and surfaced with gravel (1869) trees, shrubbery, and flower beds were added, and, inevitably, signs appeared imploring students to "Keep off the grass." Pleas were voiced for the removal of the residences along Prince Street which marred the attractiveness of the campus and for an iron fence to replace the neglected and unsightly wooden barrier encircling the college park. To show their feelings positively, students ripped down sections of the fence and placed the planks end to end over mud in front of Anderson Hall. Thanks to a benefaction from Trustee President Trevor, a telescope, seven and a half feet long, was acquired (1876) primarily for class work in astronomy, though sufficiently powerful for research investigations; a small structure to house the telescope was erected, and eight decades later it was transferred intact to the River Campus where it remained until torn down in 1967. During a class period a student, who was asked to report on his personal observations of the heavens, replied that he had had a "date" on Saturday evening "and found an unusual halo around Venus." Near Anderson Hall, a small nondescript building was erected to store chemicals apparently, and subsequently converted into a tool-house; someone tagged it "Cutting Hall" in honor (?) of the professor of rhetoric. Students appealed in 1870 to the college authorities to construct a dormitory, and once raised the cry never wholly faded away, though the appeal was not realized until 1913 and even then only in a small way. On behalf of a residence hall, it was argued that it would foster college esprit de corps, deepen friendships, and enable students to get to chapel on time; undergraduates living with private families; it was said, too often became enamored of daughters in the households to the neglect of their studies. Satterlee, the financial agent of the University, recommended that eating clubs should be organized and that student living quarter should be obtained either on the top floors of downtown buildings or in rented houses--all with the object of reducing the cost of getting an education. But Anderson was deaf to entreaties and proposals on a dormitory, and the trustees echoed his hostile point of view. The President contended that students lived more cheaply in private homes than was true of their contemporaries in colleges that possessed dormitories, and he believed that "the dangers incident to youth are always lessened by... residence in respectable families and by association with women." 14 Needs of a different sort were met by the erection of Sibley Hall to contain the library and (in time) the Ward Museum. In 1868 a faculty committee was appointed to devise plans for such a structure, and the same year Sibley became a trustee. At Commencement in 1871 it was revealed that Sibley--hailed as a "present-day Maecenas"--would finance the cost of a building, and on May 29, 1872, the donor, shovel in hand, broke ground on a plot to the west of Anderson Hall. The final plan was chosen by competition; the winner, a Rochester architect, John R. Thomas, designed the structure, in the shape of a Greek cross, two stories in height, though so constructed that if desired two more floors could be inserted. The building, made of Medina brownstone trimmed with white, would be capped with a cornice of Ohio sandstone and a mansard roof. On the ground floor, the principal library room would measure forty by a hundred feet and rise to height of twenty-five feet; galleries would surround it; on the floor above, the main area for the museum would have similar dimensions. A Rochester newspaper described the projected Hall as "the best planned and designed building of the kind on this side of the Atlantic." Construction proceeded at a slow pace, for one reason because Sibley believed that foundations and the walls of each floor should settle firmly before another story was put in place. The donor personally hired the workmen for excavation, masonry and carpentry jobs, and made daily visits to supervise what was being done. When he decided that the windows planned for the north and south sides would not furnish, sufficient light, he ordered that they should be extended by six inches. Limestone used in the cellar walls and in the upper stories, behind the facing of brownstone, was dug from Sibley's own quarries a few blocks distant from the Campus. An air-space of some five inches was left between the limestone and an inner screen of brick, so that the entire wall was about three feet thick. The first "fireproof" structure to be erected in Rochester, Sibley Hall had beams and staircases of iron; only the floors, laid on sand over brick arches, were made of wood. A panel in the arch over the entrance contained the date " 1874 " , though in fact construction proceeded from 1872 to 1876, and grading and other finishing touches were not completed for several years more. From Italy, Sibley shipped to Rochester eight female statues, symbolizing as many areas of knowledge, to occupy niches in the exterior walls, which was interpreted in some quarters as indicative of his views on coeducation, and he also gave two sphinxes to keep watch and ward at the front of the structure. 15 This last feature inspired an undergraduate versifier of extremely modest talents to sing: How fit it is that there should be Two sphinxes guarding Sibley's door Without our precious library. How fit it is that there should be Those emblems of perplexity. Each day I go I think the more How fit it is that there should be Two sphinxes guarding Sibley's door. On June 28, 1876, the dedication of Sibley Hall took place, Rossiter Johnson, 1863, reading a poem, and the annual class day exercises and alumni dinner were held in the building. It was not, however, until the summer of the next year that the book collections were transferred from Anderson Hall, and along with them came a desk at which books were charged out, which is believed to have done service in the original home of the college, and the desk of the librarian. (A section of the former library quarters in Anderson was set aside as a reading room with newspapers and magazines.) Assisting in the job of removal was Herman K. Phinney, 1877, who filled the office of assistant librarian from 1880 to 1930, and he, probably more than anyone else, collected and preserved materials pertinent to the early history of the U. of R. At the end of nearly forty years service, the librarian described Phinney as a mixture of information and misinformation, not at all quarrelsome, but long-winded and devious, he had made himself a veritable mine of information not only on the library and the college, but on the city of Rochester as well. Phinney was regarded as "a good reference tool," but experience dictated that he should not be consulted if the desired information could be secured from any other source. In the Interpres of 1878 an engraving of the new hall appeared under the caption "Sibley - $150,000" (which was something of an exaggeration), standing hard by Anderson's "Scholars to Order Factory." Undergraduates of later generations sang the praises of "Sibley Hall," to the tune of "Clementine:" On the Campus is a structure, Where the Muses ever dwell, Where the ages fill the pages With a charming mystic spell. <br