Once upon a time an Italian film director, called Sergio Leone, rocked up in the Sierra Nevada to make a movie. It starred Clint Eastwood as the famous ‘man with no name’ (this was cool then, I promise) so he went on to make a few more. All westerns. All with fabulous titles, such as The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. And when he’d finished, all the locals who’d been extras in the films, clubbed together and bought the set that he’d built.
It’s been run as a tourist attraction for the last fifty years, although it’s owned by a hotel chain now. But honestly, who can resist a complete Western town of backless buildings? Not me. Steve wasn’t that keen to go: he thought it would be okay-ish and that I’d enjoy it much more than him. Boy, was he wrong; it was ACE!!!! And in all the wrong ways.
The best way to get there is to follow Deirdre the sat-nav slut as she takes you the long way around through the mountains. Although we programmed in the quickest way, please, she has selective hearing and prefers to meander. But the mountain route is spectacular and really gets you in the mood. Cacti. Ravines. Sparseness. And in the distance – ooh look, teepees.
So we fetch up at the entrance, which has weird Disney characters and odd cowboys on the signage, and is looking a bit the worse for wear. And this is when I start to get very happy, because I love things that are a little bit crap so much more than things that are shiny and impressive.
Because of Dierdre’s navigation we’ve arrived late, so the can-can show is already halfway though. We explore the ‘town’ instead, while the streets are quieter. It has everything you would expect – as well as a saloon, there’s a gaol, a bank, a sheriff’s office, a mine shaft, a blacksmith, stables, shops, a schoolroom, moonshine stills and, of all things, a local Rabbi.
A photographer is taking pictures of people in costume, so Indian squaws and saloon girls cross the ‘road’ in front of us. Children run around in cowboy hats kicking up clouds of yellow dust. And honky-tonk piano music bangs out of the saloon, as the girls dance to the sound of gun-shots and well-choreographed whoops.
We have some time before the next performance of the Wild West Spectacular (and I just know it’s not going to be spectacular – I can hardly wait), so we head for the parrot display.
The parrot display? you ask.
Oh yes – because there is a zoo here as well!
And the parrot display is extra brilliant because it is all in Spanish and we can’t understand a thing. It consists of birds with beautiful plumage doing odd tricks, such as finding which cup the ball is under, or doing maths and ringing a bell to show the answer.
There is always a long lead up before every trick, with lots of ‘oooh’s from the audience, so we are quite keyed up about what to expect. At one point, a lady at the back of the auditorium releases a lovely cockatoo with champagne pink feathers and buttercup armpits (wingpits?). And its special skill is …..flying! I swear. It swoops over our heads to land on the talking chappie’s arm, then flies back again, all to enthusiastic applause. Same thing with a little green parakeet with scarlet armpits. Very pretty, but not exactly a superpower, I think.
Then we head for the big animals. Steve is interested in the Rhinos, which, on close inspection are a serious bit of kit. But I fall involve with the giraffe who comes to the fence, and lets us all stroke her head. I know it’s cupboard love and she’s looking for grass, but I’m enchanted anyway.
Her enclosure (as with all the animals) has the most amazing view. The zoo sprawls out over the surrounding hillsides, rugged, rocky, and sun-drenched. The mountains fill the horizon. It is more like being on safari than my normal experience of a zoo. I have to keep pinching myself.
Then it is time for us to head back into town for the Wild West show. We get a coffee in the saloon and find a nice spot on a balcony. Steve suggests that they might ask for volunteers, and that I should definitely go for it. I’m so tempted, but then I realise that it wouldn’t work because all of their instructions would be in Spanish.
‘What instructions do you need to be roped, and dragged along the ground by a horse?’ asks Steve. Good point. You can tell we’ve been married a long time, can’t you?
We are told that the show is going to be an enactment of the last stand of Jessie James. Well alrighty. And this is how it goes: –
The sheriff and his deputy (let’s call him Derek), drive a horse and cart into town. The sheriff is pointing his rifle at a guy in the back who is tied up. Oh no – it’s the infamous Jessie James! Jessie then proceeds to quietly jump out of the cart and wait patiently for the sheriff to get down. Not so tough, then, and maybe where the phrase, ‘a bit of a Jessie’ comes from.
The sheriff puts his rifle in the cart, which Derek parks around the corner. Jessie realises he only has some bits of string around his wrists, but no actual gun pointing at him. But instead of legging it, he does the old throw my hat on the ground manoeuvre, and picks a fight.
He gets biffed up quite a bit before the sheriff remembers he has a pistol (which Jessie has spectacularly failed to grab from his holster, despite copious opportunity). Jessie now wanders amiably into the gaol, sometimes at gunpoint, but mostly not, and locks himself inside. He then bellows out of the window at the injustice of having to gaol himself.
A guy in a long coat rides right through the centre of the town square (let’s call him Keith). He may have borrowed the coat from Harry Potter because – although he is clearly visible to everybody – the sheriff patrolling the balcony totally fails to spot him. He sneaks noisily up the stairs and promptly chucks the sheriff off onto a handy pile of straw.
Another chap in an invisibility coat rides into the town with a rope (we’ll call him Clifford). He and Keith free Jessie by pulling out the bars of the gaol window. Hoorah.
Then they leg it; except Clifford, who decides not to tie up the sheriff, but to position himself behind a too-small barrel, and wait for the him to wake up and start shooting instead. It all kicks off, and now another deputy (er, Frank?) runs out from the gaol and joins in the fray. He’s been there all this time and done nothing! What a tool.
Jessie has found a horse, and he rides in and offers Clifford a jump-up – but then rides off before he can do it. You know – just before: he’s that guy. And then Keith does the same. So Clifford gets shot. A lot.
Jessie waits nearby until Clifford is really dead, then – rather than make a clean break out of town on his horse – he jumps off and hides behind a too-small water trough. Perhaps this is an homage thing? I don’t know, but I’m sensing a pattern.
But now the sheriff and his two deputies are spaced out and training their guns on Jessie, so he stands up and runs into the middle of the triangle. And gets shot, what a surprise! That the gang has lasted this long is a complete mystery.
We think it’s over, as the Sheriff and his deputies are wandering back to the gaol. But miracles happen (although not to Jessie) and Clifford is resurrected – despite being shot, like, fifteen times.
He may be the luckiest guy alive, but he is still an idiot. Because rather than faking dead until they’ve all gone, he waits until the sheriff (armed) is next to him (unarmed), and then he gets up and picks another fight.
And it doesn’t go so well and he’s marched off – showing no resistance at all – to the convenient gallows. Honestly, there’s no helping some people. But maybe the whole gang comes from the same shallow gene pool, because then Keith, who hadescaped, rides back into town for the sheriff and his deputies to shoot at him again.
The sheriff chases after him and it is left to the two deputies to get the hanging done. This takes a lot longer than you’d think. Even though Clifford is strung up and his feet are off the ground, they are all still having a right barney and there is a considerable amount of bad-tempered spitting and kicking. Eventually, the music signals it’s time to stop, so he does a sort of mid-air M C Hammer dance, then waves at all the children, and slumps. Really dead this time. The children go happily ballistic.
And now the sheriff comes back and, boy, did he earn his star! Not only has he outrun a galloping horse on foot, but he’s pulled an armed man (Keith) off it, caught the horse (without being shot), and has now roped and dragged him back into town. Oh yes.
Derek checks that Keith is alright, before helping him to his feet in order to throw him down again. Clifford, swinging gently on the gallows, pipes up, ‘Shoot him!‘ and promptly gets shot again. Really, really dead, this time.
Now Derek waits calmly for Keith to get to his feet again, and starts beating him up. Despite all the yelling, Frank continues his sedate walk towards the gaol house. Perhaps there’s been some Health and Safety initiatives, because he doesn’t seem to want to get very involved?
And although he has a gun, It seems that Derek prefers a good old fist fight. Maybe they are being too noisy, because Frank does now turn around and points his gun at Keith until he stops fighting. But I don’t think he likes Derek very much, because then he just wanders off and lets them carry on.
And suddenly – DRAMA! Keith has finally grabbed Derek’s pistol and shot the sheriff! Frank has to do something now – he’s beginning to look more than slack – so he does more gun pointing.
And Keith – despite being a crack shot, and only facing Frank (who clearly doesn’t give a shit) – throws the pistol back to Derek and puts his hands in the air. Mental! Keith then wails, ‘I’m unarmed’. Well, whose fault is that!
So, get this – they give him a gun! Derek just hands it back to him, no word of a lie. And now I see how it was all part of Frank’s master plan (cue evil laugh). He waits until Keith has shot Derek for him, then smartly polishes him off with a single bullet.
He’s given the undertaker plenty of work (bet they’re related) and has risen very sharply up the ranks to become the sheriff of a Jessie James-free town. Neat. Then Clifford resurrects again, and helps to put the bars back into the gaol house window. Swell.
. . . . . . . . . .
The kids love it. After the show they all get to sit on the horses, and have their pictures taken with the idiot gang. When we get home, I Google Jessie James: it turns out he was shot in the back of the head, by one of his own gang (I bet is was Clifford), whilst standing in front of his own fireplace. So I don’t know what we just saw, but I know which version I prefer: and it was here, at Mini Hollywood.
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