The movies I saw while growing up were largely Westerns, westerns of a kinder, gentler type, where people were shot from a distance with no graphic gore. They simply fell over and died, although they might trash around a bit or groan and grimace before going limp. When Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood introduced the “spaghetti westerns” to the US, Eastwood’s character basically killed all the (bad) principle characters (and, seemingly, a good part of the rest of the cast) but again, not in any overtly bloody way, a far cry from many movies or TV shows now.
The gun fight scene was an integral part of many of these movies, both characters standing in an empty street for interminable moments, then reaching for their gun/s and shooting, while onlookers peered out from behind the saloon or store doors. The man with the quickest draw and best aim was left standing.
My dad loves all things western, we ride western, love visiting the west, and so on. This January while visiting them, we once again spent a few hours at the High Noon Auction, enjoying the sights and sounds as well as the free chocolate chip cookies. In the hallway, this metallic cowboy was quick on the draw, but I got a shot of him before he got a shot at me.