Pretty real Westworld.
In the biographies and legends that have been passed down for hundreds of years, the people who died under the gun are not necessarily all guilty, but also those farmers and herdsmen who are responsible, and children who are not worthless; how many of the legendary cowboy knights rely on temporary luck Boasting of how many people have experienced vicissitudes of life and become compassionate, and how many evils are full of psychological torture.
How much of the real world is a just and awe-inspiring confrontation, and how much is a drunk luck and a sneak attack in the toilet, but the appearance of the dead will be truly imprinted in the mind and tortured for a lifetime.
The contrast between Gene Hackman's domineering aura and Eastwood's lonesome understatement in the film makes for a dramatic final conflict.
A real killer is not about how accurate the duck is, how much murderousness and deterrent power you have, but the moment when the adrenaline is soaring, the calmness and self-preservation consciousness branded in your subconscious after hundreds of battles.
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