I found this book to be as equally ponderous and intellectually pretentious as the subject movie was.
Fawell constructs what is essentially a 215-page ultra-review of the film and its Italian director Leone. The plot, its characters, the musical score and the photography are all analyzed in excruciating detail with the author’s insistence that every frame of the film denotes some sort of profound psychological artistry. In the real world, however, it was an American box-office failure. Audiences thought the movie was long and boring, and I’m sure they would respond to this book with the same feeling. I don’t doubt that Fawell did his homework, but his theme is too narrow to be of general interest.