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Populär Culture Review
O f course, such meaning can come mainly from the viewer. For
example, in Once Upon a Time in the West, the villain’s name, “Frank,”
is widely considered to be homage to the High Noon villain named Frank
Miller. Considering how much Once refers to previous westems, if the
villain’s name had been “John” it would probably be considered a hat-tip
to John W ayne or (perhaps more likely) John Ford. Had it been “Steve”
we may think he was invoking W ister’s ill-fated character. In fact, by the
year o f the film ’s release, almost any common name could be seen as
homage to some prior film or story regardless o f Leone’s intent.
“M istaken identity” and historical stories, along with those that
have clever thematic reasons for characters’ names, are a drop in the
bücket, however. They are far outweighed by those tales where names
are simply a way o f sorting characters. In The Virginian, Judge Henry
refers to “the man they call Steve”— not the man named Steve, but the
one called by that label (Wister 57). Once a character is labeled “Steve,”
we know to whom other characters are referring when they say that
name. He has no special quality o f “Steveness” because there is no such
thing. H e’s Steve because w e’re told so, and that is all there is to his
being Steve. He could easily be Bill, Peter, or Simon for all the reader
cares— as long as his name remains the same throughout. Ultimately,
character names are mainly usefiil as simple devices to help us keep the
characters from becoming confused with other characters.
Still, it should be noticed that even when a name is easily
replaceable, it still must make sense in the story’s context. “ Frank” might
just as easily be named “John” or “W ill,” those are considered normal
names for the 19,h Century American west, names that audience members
can identify with. He could not be named “Keyser Soze” or “Jar Jar
Binks” without confusion, nor could he terrify a town with a silly name
like “Cookie Forbush.” The name itself may not be important, but the
style o f name will be in any genre.
W h a t’s Not in a Nam e?
“This short cigar belongs to the M an with No Name,” Starts the
trailer for A Fistfiil o f Dollars. “This long gun belongs to the Man with
No Name. This poncho belongs to the Man with No Name. The Man
with No Name—{langer fits him like a tight black glove. He is, perhaps,
the most dangerous man who ever lived.” Harping repeatedly on the fact
that the man has no name for vehemence— the rhetorical ploy known as
palilogia — the trailer sells an image: a cigar, a poncho, and a gun. He is a