(The opening credits roll over the first strains of the Morricone score, a suite for whistle, flute and tom-tom.).
A two minute tight close-up of Eli Wallach’s eyes.
A one minute tight close-up of Eli Wallach’s mouthful of ugly gold teeth, followed by another even tighter two minute closeup of Wallach’s eyes, with deafening flute, whistle and tom-tom music (the “Eli Wallach Theme”) throughout.
Wallach: What you doin’ here, gringo?
Two minutes tight close up on Clint Eastwood’s eyes, followed by one minute ditto on his dead cigarillo and a two minute close-up of his poncho, with flute, whistle and tom-ton music (the “Clint Eastwood Theme,” identical with the “Eli Wallach Theme.”).
Eastwood (puffing on his dead cigarillo): I have a message from your dentist: Time for a check-up,
Wallach; Before I kill you, funny man, I want to know why you wear a blanket with a hole in it. Maybe squaw lady custom?
(Swelling flute, whistle and tom-tom noise. The “Lee Van Cleef Theme,” identical with the “Eli Wallach Theme”)
Tight two minute close-up of Lee Van Cleef’s eyes and one minute close-up of his ivory handled gun in a silver filagreed holster.
Van Cleef: Maybe this laconic stranger likes to have a little something on his shoulders in the evening. It gets a little chilly out here in the Sonora at night. Now, where’s the gold, tortilla guy?
(The “Gold Theme,” actually Wagner’s Rheingold theme arranged for flute, whistle and tom-tom).
Wallach: In my mouth, Cancun cowboy. You thinkin’ to extract it?
Van Cleef reaches into his saddle bag. After a brief holster malfunction, Eastwood draws and shoots Van Cleef between the eyes. A dentist’s mouth mirror falls from his hand,
Eastwood: Sorry, gay caballero, but I’m the one who rode all the way up to the Upper West Side and got his dental records. (Turning to Wallach) Now, burrito breath, open wide.
Wallach (drawing a pen knife from his boot): Hold on, you Carmel A-list phony. The gold stays in the mouth, where Dr. Shteynmeyer put it.
Eastwood (drawing an enormous .44 Magnum from under his poncho): You fixin’ to shoot me with that wetback pistol?
Split-screen extremely tight close-up of Wallach and Eastwood eyes.
Hold split screen, Roll credits over it. Bring up Morricone Suite for Flute, Whistle and Tom-Tom.
Hold until theater is completely empty.
Mr. Wallach’s mis en bouche courtesy of Michael Wiland DDS