It was only a matter of time before a Hollywood company westernized the great Japanese film Seven Samurai. An instant classic when it made its debut in 1954, Akira Kurosawa’s masterwork came to America in late 1956, largely seen in a truncated version titled The Magnificent Seven. Kurosawa’s film is 207 minutes long; its American release was 158. Even so, it was immediately lauded, made some money on the arthouse circuit, and earned two Academy Award nominations (although not, oddly, Best Foreign Language Film, for which it was not even nominated).

Its story, of seven unemployed samurai warriors recruited to help a small village threatened by bandits, is both epic and personal. Kurosawa’s film balances big battle sequences with time for true character development and relationships to blossom. Upon seeing the film, many realized its potential as a Hollywood western, among them Anthony Quinn and Yul Brynner. The two planned a production with Quinn starring and Brynner directing; ultimately this did not happen, Brynner secured the rights to the property and Quinn unsuccessfully sued. Brynner finally made a deal with the Mirisch Company and United Artists and decided just to star in the project.

Just four years after the American release of Seven Samurai, its western counterpart premiered . . . to lackluster business and mediocre reviews. What happened? Part of the lukewarm welcome should be ascribed to the rushed and troubled production itself. Producer / director John Sturges and Brynner cast the film hours before two looming Hollywood strikes and scooted into Mexico to make their adventure while the rest of the industry sat around for five months. No doubt there was resentment about the way the production had flouted the union rules, especially when original writer Walter Newman would not accompany the crew into Mexico and another writer, William Roberts, was hired to rewrite on the fly. While the actors complained about script pages finding their way to them the night before scenes were to be shot, Sturges and Roberts improvised and encouraged the cast to add bits that could help define their characters. Newman eventually had his name removed from the credits, although the bulk of the script is reportedly from his pen.

Other factors dulled the film’s release impact. The studio, United Artists, perhaps aware of the unstructured nature of filming south of the border, had no faith in the film and barely promoted it. The DVD release spotlights two previews made for the film; one of them misspells Horst Buchholz’s name while the other misspells Robert Vaughn’s name and adds a horrendous “Magnificent Seven” song instead of Elmer Bernstein’s rousing themes. Remember, too, that westerns on the big screen were becoming passé, mostly because they were proliferating like rabbits on television. In fact, co-star Steve McQueen faked receiving an injury in a car accident in order to get a hiatus from his TV western, “Wanted: Dead or Alive” so he could make this movie (that’s the story, even though the two strikes were looming so TV production would have been shut down, too, I think).

Anyway, when the film came out, it was considered anything but “magnificent.” It was liked, even admired, but it didn’t do much business and was quickly forgotten. But then it played overseas, and the French cineastes and audiences loved it. Within months it was playing again on American screens, and this time it attracted notice. It still didn’t make a lot of money, but it gained a solid following. Later, it was sold to television and became a perennial favorite, especially for fans of the ever more popular stars. And here’s the truly weird thing about this movie, and its gradual evolution into a series. The Magnificent Seven became popular primarily because of its cast. The only bona fide star was Yul Brynner, who had been around for more than a decade, and won an Oscar for The King and I. Every other member of the Seven, while possibly familiar to audiences, was an up-and-comer, ready to explode into stardom because of this movie. All right, not Brad Dexter, the one guy nobody remembers. But everybody else.

James Coburn, soon to co-star in Charade and The Great Escape before hitting star status with the two Derek Flint spy spoofs and The President’s Analyst. Charles Bronson, about to hit it big in The Great Escape, The Sandpiper, The Dirty Dozen and who became THE action star of the 1970s. Robert Vaughn, fresh off of an Oscar nomination for The Young Philadelphians, soon to become “The Man from U. N. C. L. E.” on television. Horst Buchholz, about to co-star in the brilliant comedy One, Two, Three and become an international star of the 1960s in a host of films. And, of course, one Steve McQueen, fresh from battling The Blob and about to become the essence of cool in 1960s cinema. It is the conglomeration of these names and faces that elevate this film beyond its already powerful level of quality and timeliness to one of mythic Hollywood stature.

So then why, when it finally came time for the Mirisch Company to put sequels together, did they not follow the same formula? It was six years later, 1966, when Return of the Seven finally came to pass — with only Yul Brynner returning in character, and Robert Fuller as Vin, and Julián Mateos as Chico — and Chris fills out his seven with old stalwarts such as Claude Akins and Warren Oates. Only Jordan Christopher, as Manuel, could be considered “a young buck” similar to the stars of the first film. Why would the production company not use the same star-making formula? To quote Geoffrey Rush, it’s a mystery.

The third film returns to this formula, bringing in younger cast members, up-and-coming guys like Bernie Casey (in his feature film debut), Joe Don Baker, Reni Santoni, Monte Markham and Scott Thomas to work with George Kennedy and James Whitmore, while the fourth film hired more experienced actors. Most of its Seven (Lee Van Cleef, Michael Callan, Pedro Armendariz Jr., Luke Askew, James B. Sikking, William Lucking) had been making movies for several years; only Ed Lauter was making his feature film debut. Also of note, this last film also brings women into the mix. It is true that none of these youngsters hit it big in the fashion of McQueen or Coburn or Bronson or even Vaughn, but several of them did mount very respectable careers in film and on television. So you never know.

Of course, the notion of “The Magnificent Seven” as a series at all is almost patently absurd, since four of the original seven didn’t survive the first film. But give the writers credit. Despite new writers and directors for each new adventure, an arc gradually emerges that evolves into a character study around Chris Adams. The four films don’t coalesce real consistently but, even with the cast changes and the different tones present, they do form a somewhat logical and at least semi-satisfying series, in my humble opinion. 15 November 2020.