The Gran Hotel Almería sprang up on the city’s seafront to provide luxury accommodation and poolside cocktails for the likes of Yul Brynner, Charles Bronson, and Alain Delon. Tarmac was hurriedly laid down for trailers to roll and planes to land upon.
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Accustomed to seeing its sons and daughters departing in the search of excitement, Almería began welcoming international film crews and the world’s biggest movie stars. The triumph of the Dollars trilogy saw the production of Spaghetti Westerns multiply rapidly, with an impoverished corner of a country emerging from international isolation at the forefront. The delay had the unintended benefit of allowing the sequels For A Few Dollars More and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly to be released in quick succession in America, capitalising on the unexpected success of the original and catapulting the film’s main star, Clint Eastwood, to superstardom.īehind the scenes with Clint Eastwood Lee Van Cleef and director Sergio Leone on location Almeria Spain. Even then, with European names substituted for American-sounding alternatives, with Leone credited as ‘Bob Robertson’ and the legendary composer Ennio Morricone listed as ‘Dan Savio’. A copyright snag and a wariness of the American public’s reaction to this interpretation of the cherished Western meant they did not release the film in America until three years after its final cut. Given a grittier spin with sparse dialogues, intense close-ups and driven along by dramatic scores, the ‘Spaghetti Western’ exploded with the extraordinary success of Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars, made on a miserly budget in the province of Almería in 1964. Crucially, in the 1960s, it was a far cheaper place to make a film than the country it was imitating, which made it the ideal location for a growing subgenre.Īn enterprising group of Italian film directors had begun reimagining the classic American Western, a genre that had faded from its glorious past. Over 3,000 hours of annual sunshine and scarce rain provide a stunning natural light and a reliable shooting schedule. With cactus-pocked deserts, canyons and ravines, Almería, tucked away in the southeast corner of Spain, offers a more than passable impression of an Arizona, a Texas or a Montana.
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W4JYDDmN3U- Desayuno Serial June 13, 2015 A winger that once fired his country to a World Cup finals was now on the way to becoming the first Paraguayan to win an Oscar.ĭe este hombre nos está hablando Florencio Amarilla, el futbolista paraguayo que ganó un Oscar. Of indigenous heritage and brawny of build, Amarilla was a casting director’s dream and 100 Rifles became the first of over 100 film credits. Even more so if they had what, by the loose standards of the time, passed as a Native American appearance. An unlikely boom that meant extras, stand-ins and bit-part actors were in demand. Almería had become the global headquarters of Western film making, with film companies sweeping into the region to rattle through productions. Jim Brown had carried a ball further than anyone in the history of American football, yet here he was in the south of Spain, reinventing himself as an actor.Īmarilla could see the parallels. The film’s other megastar - the obligatory irascible sheriff - is also a former elite sportsman. Today he’s an indigenous Yaqui, enlisted by Raquel Welch and Burt Reynolds to a militia hell-bent on settling an old vendetta.
Yesterday he was a retired footballer, contemplating his future. For his new recruit, Florencio Amarilla, it is a thrilling breath of fresh air. For Antonio Tarruella, a budding actor-come-director, it’s just another day’s grind in the sweltering heat.
Twenty-four hours later, the pair are at work in the Tabernas Desert. “Hey buddy, how would you like to be in a movie?” Placing one glass down in front of the man, he takes the seat opposite and comes straight out with it. Ordering two more beers, he draws himself up off his stool and strides purposefully across the room. They needed someone, and he looked as close to it as he’d seen for a while. In any case, there wasn’t time to be exacting. As he drains his glass, he considers the man, his build and his features, figuring that maybe he’s just what they are looking for. It’s a workaday crowd, but his gaze falls on an athletic figure on the far side of the room. His brow cools and his body uncoils, and he begins to take in his surroundings, casting a glance around the scattering of fellow patrons. Thirst quenched, he signals for a refill. It was his job to track them down, but lately they’d become particularly elusive. As he lowers his formidable frame on to a bar stool, the usual thing is on his mind - Native Americans. Follow a saloon bar on the edge of the desert, a man strides in, tosses his dusty Stetson on the counter and orders a beer to slake his high noon thirst.
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