My Name is Pecos

Dir: Maurizio Lucidi

1966

Skilled pistolero, Pecos Martinez, (Robert Woods) rides into the village of Houston and sets about clearing it of outlaws. But his motives prove to have revenge as their source. This was Martinez's birthplace and he has returned to settle a score with gang leader Clain (Pier Paolo Capponi). Clain, however, is preoccupied with retrieving the loot from a recent robbery which has been stolen from him by one of his own men and a local towns person whose identity he has yet to uncover. The hunt for the loot and Pecos'vengeance quest become inevitably combined and the only outcome is more bloodshed.

Robert Woods' movies are something like Forrest Gumps' box of chocolates. You never know what you might get. More than any other leading man appearing in Spaghetti Westerns I can think of Woods constantly varied his roles and the types of characters he played. Willing to play villains as well as heroes, light weight parts as well as dark dramatic ones and chance his arm as a latino rather than stick to the safe ground of the laconic American. It is this risk taking which makes his films most interesting and, it must be said, of varying success. When you take chances things don't always come out as you'd hoped and this is the case with some of Woods films. However, it also means that when things do work out they stand out all the more. Films such as Black Jack, El Puro and Challenge of the McKennas spring to mind in this instance. And I believe My Name is Pecos can be added to that list of films where Woods took a chance and it paid off.

By 1966 there had been a whole bunch of westerns made in europe and the Spaghetti style had been pretty well formulated. It differed in a number of ways from the american original but one element remained pretty constant. The hero figure, even if not as obviously white hatted as his earlier U.S equivelant, was still almost universally anglo saxon in origin. Mexicans, for the most part, were still predominantly sidekicks, victims or villains. The gunslinging protagonist, however subject his morals or motivations might be in these new mediterranean versions of the genre, was still cut from a racial template set out and stuck to for many years. In My Name is Pecos that template is adjusted. Pecos Martinez may have most of the attributes of a western hero (fast and accurate with his gun, slow talking yet quick witted, unwaveringly driven to eliminate the bad guys) but his racial make up sets him distinctly apart from the crowd. As his name suggests this avenging gunslinger is no W.A.S.P. He is proudly mexican.

In fact the racial inversion of types extends to most of the cast. This includes not only the principle heavy, Clain, but all his gang. No Ninos, Indios or Pacos here. Strictly Steves, Jacks and Slims. And the secondary villain, Morton the bible wielding undertaker, beautifully played by Umberto Raho, as well as the corrupt and cowardly saloon owner; all are white american. While the saloon girl who helps the hero is not only Mexican but, in a further inversion of expected types, not a whore. Of course, I'm not suggesting that all characters in previous westerns had completely and slavishly conformed to the norms of the genre. But I do believe that My Name is Pecos marked a radical shift. Pecos is not a Mexican hero a la Don Cesar Guzman in The Implacable Three who was essentially an hidalgo landowner or Cuchillo from The Big Gundown who is a knife throwing petty criminal. He is an avenging gunslinger who holds the moral high ground and cleans up the town. The independent man of strength and honour who the weak and helpless townspeople look to and depend on for salvation. In a different era and with a different face he could have been played by Gary Cooper. It is this that makes the characters racial make up so marked. He is playing a role traditionally set only for a white american but he is overtly mexican. As if to state his place even clearer he announces in the saloon "I don't like whiskey. I drink tequila!"

But for all the interest this role reversal might have it would be of no import if the film itself failed to engage. Thankfully, this is not a one trick pony. Pecos proves to be an enjoyable character and the story moves along with all the attributes you could ask for from a cleaning up a bad town/revenge western. Lucidi's direction is competent if not inspired, the script is decent and the acting, from some individuals in particular, is excellent. For a six foot four caucasian from Colorado Woods inhabits the body of Martinez with surprising ease. Elaborately taped eyes notwithstanding (I'm really not sure why it was felt neccesary to pin his eyes up in such a painful looking fashion) he convinces as the embittered hero and the taciturn nature of the character allows him to underplay the part. Something which shows Woods at his strongest. The rest of the cast perform well also. Luigi Casellato as Eddie the saloon owner plays an interesting mix of greed and fear but comes across as a man at odds with his deeper morals trying to make his way in a dangerous and amoral environment. While Umberto Raho's Morton is a delightfully slimy individual; combining religious words with treacherous and wicked deeds in a truly enjoyable manner. We even get the old pistol in the bible routine for good measure.

My Name is Pecos is a solid spaghetti which combines all the conventions required in a film of this type with an interesting twist in the angle of the racial make up of the key personel. And this, for me, is what good genre filmmaking is all about. It delivers what I expect but tweaks the boundaries a little to keep it interesting. It's not Citizen Kane. Nor does it try to be. It's a fun action drama with some interesting characters well played which features some tension and the required amount of blood letting leading up to a showdown at the end. Frankly, that's pretty much all I ask from a western and as a consequence I came away from this one satisfied and happy.

The version of this film I watched came from the Brazilian release. It has a reasonably clean picture and english audio but is unfortunately full frame. As a result some of the visual impact of the film was reduced. It would be nice to see this in its correct aspect ratio and I believe it is a film which deserves a better release. Recommended.

Vengeance

Dir: Antonio Margheriti

1968

Antonio Margheriti did most of his best work as director on gothic horror films like The Castle of Blood and Long Hair of Death so it is probably no surprise that the best of his half dozen westerns were those which borrowed most heavily from that genre. And God Said to Cain is, for me, his masterpiece but Vengeance has remained a firm personal favourite for some years too and a recent re viewing of it has only reinforced it in my pantheon of solid Spaghetti Westerns which never fail to satisfy.

After his friend Ricky (Albert Dell'Aqua) is pulled limb from limb by their former criminal cohorts angry hardman Rocco (Richard Harrison) seeks revenge by tracking down each of the five guilty parties. With each one dispatched he tosses a piece of the rope used to murder his friend on the corpses. He knows the identity of three of the killers but in searching for the last two is faced with a disappointing surprise. Another of his old partners (Claudio Camaso) who he thought had perished in their last job turns out to be not only alive but leading the gang and responsible for Ricky's agonising murder. The stage is set for a final showdown where only death will clean old wounds. Along the way Rocco saves and takes on a luscious redheaded saloon girl (Spela Rozin) and is followed step by step by a Pinkerton agent who is as keen to recover the stolen $30,000 as Harrison is to avenge his friend.

On the surface this synopsis doesn't obviously suggest a gothic quality. It's a bog standard revenge story set out in an episodic kind of structure allowing for a handful of separate vignettes which show each of the five villains being tracked down and knocked off. But, as in his next western, And God Said to Cain, Margheriti's approach injects a completely different feel from your average revenge flick and it is this approach, in combination with some excellent performances from the main actors and a well utilised score, which elevates this film above the sum of its basic parts.

To begin with the director's choice of camera angles throughout gives the entire piece a slightly out of kilter look. The opening scene showing Ricky's tormented death utilises a high set camera looking directly down on the victim. This not only allows for a fine composition around the star shape created by the five ropes extending from the victims outstretched extremities it also accentuates his isolation and desperation. It's a simple technique but one which works well and gets the whole story off on a grim and stylistic footing. Later, and as the story unfolds, this eery atmosphere is continued and enhanced by Margheriti's repeated use of extreme low camera angles. Simple transition shots of men standing outside or entering a saloon take on an exentuatedly sinister air as the camera looks up at them from ground level; making the figures, buildings and sky all appear ominous and overbearing. This is genre film making 101. Simple and cost effective techniques which give an unsettling sense of gravitas to an otherwise unremarkable scene. Despite his later reputation and preference for explosive action sequences this, for my money, was where Margheriti excelled. His great talent was in creating atmosphere and drawing the most value from any particular set up. This is illustrated most obviously here in the climactic showdown sequence in the sulphur mine at the film's conclusion. In this scene the cat and mouse pursuit through the mine's tunnels, lit by flickering torch flames, is played out for a full fifteen minutes and is an exercise in the creation and elongation of suspense and mood leading up to a well timed violent conclusion.

All this horror genre technique is utilised effectively throughout Vengeance but it is fused even more strongly into the narrative once the character of Mendoza (Claudio Camaso) appears on screen. Dressed in a short cape and battered top hat, face plastered with dust and carrying a walking stick Mendoza appears more like the head witch doctor of a voodoo cult than a mexican outlaw. But his appearance fits the mood of the film perfectly and Camaso plays the role with an exuberant intensity which is a joy to behold. Camaso had magnificent screen presence in everything he did and his performance here is no exception. Lurching from brooding silence to manic laughter his portrayal of the treacherous genius with a penchant for sulphur and cruelty dominates the memory and his dust coated face grinning maniacally leaves a lasting image. What is more, his intense facial contortions act as a great contrast to Richard Harrison's stoic, unchanging expression. Rocco is a man on a mission and nothing can divert him from his quest. As such, Harrison's stoney faced approach is perfect for the part. Harrison's career spanned the full cycle of the spaghetti western; appearing in some of the very earliest pre Leone films and hanging in there during the 1970s as the genre lost its appeal and quality. As such his movies are nothing if not of varying value. For the most part though he remained a solid performer throughout and occasionally was involved in a project which offered him something to work with and in which he could show what he was really capable of. In my opinion Vengeance is just such a project and remains one of the best examples of his work.

As if all this weren't enough, the supporting cast which contains Margheriti regular Luciano Pigozzi, flaming redhead Spela Rozin and stalwart bad guys Freddy Unger and Lucio De Santis all add extra quality to the mix and the score from Carlo Savina is subtly and effectively used.

All in all Vengeance is an excellent example of a late sixties spaghetti western. Building on the stylistic experimentations of the preceding years and avoiding the parodic excesses that were to come it has a solid balance of action, drama and suspense. Dialogue is kept wisely to a minimum and fist fights, when they appear, are marked by acts of nastiness like dragging spurs across a man's throat rather than Bud Spencer-like punches to the top of the head accompanied by breaking spring sound effects. This is how spaghetti westerns should be. Dark, moody, and melodramatic with some flourishes of absurdly clever gun and knife play for good measure. I liked this movie the first time I saw it and I still find it presses all the right buttons in what I enjoy in the genre. Margheriti was a very capable director whose better work, I think, is often under valued because of the quantity of ordinary to poor films that he also produced during a long and varied career. It is true he didn't always get it right. As a 'working' director operating in just about every genre possible in Italian commercial cinema this is not surprising. But when he did get it right, as he did here and to an even greater degree in And God Said to Cain he proved that he was one of the most capable directors of his time.

Those Dirty Dogs

Dir: Giuseppe Rosati



1973



1973 was not exactly a stellar year in the history of the Italian western. It was a time when the genre was genuinely breathing its last gasps and those films which were still being made in the western cycle were predominantly leaning heavily towards parody and pastiche. This was post Trinity time and there was precious little being made of any great note. Consequently, I approached Those Dirty Dogs with some understandable trepidation. But the opening scenes were promising. The film opens with a massacre, followed by the carrying off of a female hostage. Stephen Boyd rides in, closely followed by Giannio Garko as a koran reading bounty hunter. Maybe this was going to buck the trend and prove to be an 'old school' spaghetti. One where the themes would be dark and the actor's stubble even darker. Maybe this would be the film from '73 which proved that all was not silly bar room brawls and prat falls. Then again, maybe not.


To be fair, before I go off and list all the ways in which the film fails, I should say that Those Dirty Dogs is by no means a terrible film. In some ways it is quite enjoyable. It just isn't as good as it could be and, moreover, can't quite seem to make up its mind as to what it wants to be. This, for my mind, is a greater sin and merely adds to my sense of disappointment when I should be coming away feeling much better.


As mentioned above, the opening scenes and the introduction of the key protagonists set a darkish, if slightly ironic, mood. Garko's character, Korano, is somewhat offbeat with his sun umbrella and arabic holy book but he is offered as an essentially serious character. Likewise, Stephen Boyd and his companions show no suggestions of parody at this stage. This continues for some time. The uneasy alliance between Garko and Boyd is established and the conflicting interests of their relationship (military on the one side, mercenary on the other) are laid out. So far so good and all seems to be shaping up for an interesting ride. Then, as if the producers couldn't help themselves in a post Trinity world, a fist fight looms and the next thing you know Boyd has performed a double handed ear slap on a dumb faced adversary accompanied by a twanging spring sound effect. Oh dear. The ensuing extended brawl embodies everything that went wrong with the genre in its latter period and takes the film down an ill-judged path which it cannot survive with its integrity intact. From this moment on we see-saw with little concern for consistancy between a serious narrative and a spoof and the viewer is left wondering what, if anything, were the people responsible thinking?


Let me make myself clear. I am not a great fan of parody westerns but, when handled correctly, they can be entertaining. There is nothing wrong with a comedy western if that is what the film makers set out to make. They may not be everyone's cup of tea but in the right hands are harmless fun. But you can't have your cake and eat it. If you are going for laughs don't include a threat of torture or expect me to engage in a serious story thread. It needs to be one thing or the other or at least play the middle ground without venturing too far in either direction. The makers Those Dirty Dogs appear to have been unable to decide which way to go and the end result, despite its potential, is unsatisfying whichever way you cut it.


I'll give two examples as to what I mean. The film opens with a massacre carried out by Angel Sanchez (Simon Andreu) and his men. Sanchez is clearly a nasty piece of work and is played strictly straight in this regard. But Sanchez is not the big boss. He works for General Lopez and it is this ultimate leader who Stephen Boyd has been sent to tackle. Yet when we meet the Generalisimo he turns out to be a strutting buffoon of a man who is neither menacing nor in any way believable as a genuine threat to anyone. The scenes which include him are cringe worthy and undermine everything the narrative is built around. Not only that but despite their obvious intention they are just not funny either. Why they included him at all is beyond my comprehension. Sanchez would have sufficed perfectly well as the prime villain and, indeed, by the film's climax it is he who becomes the main antagonist to Boyd whereas Lopez is killed off almost in passing and without any real focus. Secondly, despite the nonsense surrounding Lopez and the Trinityesque fist fights we are brought to an abrupt about face in a scene where a woman is interrogated by Boyd to find out the whereabouts of the bandit gang. In a film which has become increasingly parodic in style seeing this woman's dress front violently ripped open by the supposed hero is genuinely alarming and in complete contrast to the pervading atmosphere to this point. Boyd then goes on to threaten the bare breasted woman with a blade, promising torture if she doesn't offer up the information he wants. Where in heck did this come from? It's almost like a scene from a different film. Moreover, it is quickly followed by the woman throwing herself at her attacker, offering herself willingly, whereby Boyd becomes the embarrassed and overcome victim who we are expected to laugh at. It's like the whole film is exhibiting more mood swings than a pre menstrual bipolar teenager. This particular scene is also just plain ill judged. Without it I could probably have watched it with my kids and the silliness would have been absorbed a little easier. With it and family viewing is out of the question. Moreover, it undermines the character of the main protagonists and left me feeling confused and just a little bit dirty. In fact the scene is so badly devised and poorly executed that it sticks out in the mind throughout the rest of the movie; casting a shadow that obscures, for me, what merits the film genuinely has.


And, despite all my complaints, the film does have some merits. Garko is always likable and his character of Korano, if somewhat underdeveloped, is entertaining and has some real potential to be exploited further. To be honest I find it hard not to enjoy anything that Garko appears in to some degree and it has to be said that he carries off his part faultlessly. Fans of the Sartana franchise will also probably enjoy his unconventional use of the umbrella; using it as a hidden gun to mow down his adversaries with bondlike precision. Simon Andreu is fine as the mexican bandit and although Harry Baird doesn't bring much to the table he does what is required of him well enough. Stephen Boyd is also good value for the most part and although this is not his best performance by a long chalk his very presence is a bonus. He even sings and co writes the theme song; a ditty that will stay with you for days afterwards. I still can't get it out of my head no matter how hard I try. In fact the music in general is probably one of the films undeniable strengths. Nico Fidenco delivers an excellent score which really deserves to hang on to a better all round film.


In many ways it is probably the film's strengths and potentials that throw its weaknesses and failings into a greater spotlight for me. This shouldn't be such a poor and disappointing movie. It has a number of good ingredients and, in parts, works well enough to suggest it could have been a pretty decent film. But its ill judged character and plot decisions and, above all, its inconsistancy and inability to decide what kind of film it wants to be leaves me feeling short changed. A pity as I wanted to like this film much more but, in the end, I just couldn't.

I Want Him Dead

Dir: Paolo Bianchini

1968

Clayton, (Craig Hill) a former scout for the Confederacy, seeks revenge after his sister is raped and murdered by local bad guy Jack Blood (Jose Manuel Martin). His search for Blood is complicated by the fact that the villain works for a ruthless capitalist named Mellek (Andrea Bosic) who has plans to prolong the civil war for his own economic ends by assassinating two generals who are meeting to discuss peace terms. Jack Blood is the man Mellek appoints to carry out these assassinations and Clayton's pursuit of him leads him into deeper and more difficult waters as the two plot lines converge.

I Want Him Dead, considered by many to be Craig Hill's best Spaghetti Western, is nothing if not an interesting mix. The direction is sometimes inspired and at other times sloppy. It enjoys a good cast who offer some solid work but are occasionally under utilised. It has two plots for the price of one but somehow doesn't mesh them successfully enough. Yet despite its various failings it manages to stay consistantly interesting and is, ultimately, a Spaghetti well worth seeing.

The opening scene, before the credits, is a perfect example of the film's strengths and weaknesses. Clayton and his sister are riding through the desert. As they sit around their fire in the evening a seemingly riderless horse runs towards them. In a series of jump cuts using reflections, close ups and depth of field so profound it gives an almost fish eye effect Clayton becomes aware of impending danger and then dispatches two assailants with explosive and clinical skill. This opening sequence is carried off with consumate flair and skill but goes completely unexplained in the ensuing narrative. It stands alone as an inexplicable episode that has no obvious connection with anything else in the film but sets a mood which carries the viewer onwards wanting more. Unfortunately, it also sets a standard which is not always lived up to as the film continues and with the bar set this high every drop in quality becomes held in greater focus. This is a pity as the film is, in general, an enjoyable piece. It just lacks consistancy.

On the positive side, it genuinely is one of Craig Hill's better spaghettis. I would personally rank it alongside A Taste of Killing as my personal favourite of his. His pale eyed, steely look (a kind of cross between Franco Nero and Terence Hill) is perfectly suited to this tale of intrigue and revenge. A vehicle which requires him to do what he is best at; stay quiet and look cool. A feat he achieves successfully despite a questionable choice of hat. A straw woven object which he struggles to keep on his head while riding on occasion. In all seriousness, Hill plays his part well and benefits from the accompanying performances of the ever reliable Jose Manuel Martin as the main villain and the impressive Lea Massari, who carries off the part of the downtrodden but resilient captive servant girl with an effective balance of strength and vulnerability. In fact, in many ways Massari's is the stand out performance of the film. Her acting is impressive and she brings a genuine lift to every scene she is in. Jose Manuel Martin is always good value of course but I couldn't help but feel that in a role as central as this one for him he could of been used a bit more and his villainy expressed a shade more often. After his initial, almost casual rape and murder of Hill's sister (commited offscreen) he becomes little more than a worried looking fugitive. He is far better suited to the role of a fox than a rabbit.

Part of the problem here is that I Want Him Dead is actually two stories in one. The first is the straight forward revenge tale of Hill pursuing his sister's attackers. But this is eventually overlapped by the parallel plot of Mellek's greed driven assassination plan. And although this remains effectively a sub plot it gradually becomes more and more central. Martin's character is the link between the two plot lines and, consequently, this should make his role stronger. However, what happens is the two strands never really converge effectively and so the power of his character is diminished and lost a little. This is a pity as Martin is a gift to any film of this type and the opportunity was there to marry the two stories with greater impact. As it is, they come together in the showdown between Martin and Hill at the moment the assassination is supposed to take place but quickly split again; with the other gang members and Mellek having a denouement of their own, quite separate from that of our hero and villain. This lack of cohesion doesn't grate so much as to ruin the film but it certainly is an opportunity missed and, for me, is another example of how the film misses out on being truly outstanding.

That said, it is a thoroughly enjoyable film on the whole. The strengths of the lead players are more than enough to carry the viewer happily through the narrative despite any of its faults and the camera work, framing and composition of Bianchini and director of photography, Ricardo Andreu, are, at times, outstanding. Indeed, the film is visually nothing short of excellent and offers some truly memorable shots which, in tandem with Nico Fidenco's solid score, give it some much needed weight.

I Want Him Dead is, I think, best described as a mixed bag and your response to it is likely to be driven strongly by the preset convictions you bring with you. If you are a Craig Hill fan you are likely to see this as an excellent example of what he was capable of when given the right vehicle. If a Jose Manuel Martin fan you are just as likely to come away with mixed feelings; nice to see him in a larger role, sad to see him ultimately under utilised. If you are easily swayed by strong visual composition and effective framing this film will ring all your bells. If sloppy editing puts you off, those ringing bells will be dulled somewhat. And if, like me, you fall into all those camps, you may well come away from the film feeling an equal sense of satisfaction and disappointment. A film with some genuinely memorable moments, let down on occasion by easily avoided lapses. On balance though, a pretty decent spaghetti. By no means perfect but well worth an hour and a half of anyone's time and one which I have no trouble in recommending.

Return of Sabata

Dir: Gianfranco Parolini

1971

Question: How do you take one of the most enjoyable, if somewhat campy films in the spaghetti western genre and follow it up with a sequel which is one of the most tedious?

Answer: I don't know, you'll have to ask Gianfranco Parolini.

For, in truth, I am unable to fathom how such a successful and seemingly straight forward formula apparent in Sabata could be messed up so badly in Return of Sabata while still maintaining most of the creative team that made the original such a joy. Of course, this is neither the first nor last time that such a thing has happened. The history of popular cinema is cram full of sequels which fall a long way short of predecessors and, as such, I suppose I should not be so surprised that Parolini failed in the same way as so many others. I guess that in the case of a film so dear to my heart (as Sabata most definitely is) my disappointment is sharpened that little bit more.

Sabata (Lee Van Cleef) struggles through a complex series of cross and double cross as he attempts to get to the bottom of corruption involving an evil town boss and his partner, the local bank president. Things are complicated for our hero due to the involvement of a long haired and thoroughly untrustworthy but lovable rogue while a pseudo love interest is supplied by a beautiful saloon girl. Assistance is also on hand though in the form of a rotund and rough round the edges local bum and a somersaulting acrobat. Twists and turns ensue until Sabata finally outwits the bad guy and departs with hefty amount of cash.

Astute readers will have quickly noticed that the above synopsis could actually fit either Sabata film. The original and the sequel have identical cores to their plots and personel. They also share significant cast similarities. Van Cleef, of course, appears in the eponymous role in both films, while Gianni Rizzo plays the banker, Pedro Sanchez the town bum and Aldo Canti the acrobat with only minor differences in detail. What's more, beyond Parolini himself as director, both also enjoy the behind the scenes skills of Marcello Giombini (music), Renato Izzo (screenplay), Sandro Mancori (cinematography) and Alberto Grimaldi (producer). So, perhaps, in order to try and understand why this film falls short where its predecesor triumphed, it may be more useful to look at the elements which differ rather than those which remain the same.

In terms of cast, the most obvious changes come in the roles of town boss and long haired trickster. And right away things are starting to get clearer. The original film benefitted enormously from the great talents and memorable screen presence of Franco Ressel and William Berger in these key parts. Ressel as Stengel was one of the great villain characters of the genre. Slimy, elitist and disdainful of all around him he had an almost gothic grandee quality and was a character who, although being camp as all hell, added a bizarre weight to an otherwise flimsy scenario. Berger, for his part, despite smirking his way through the whole piece was genuinely cool and possessed a hint of menace which made him a serious foil for Sabata. Again, despite the lightness of the overall piece, these were characters we could take seriously and their impact on the film as a whole is confirmed by the almost iconic status their images have become. Stengel looking haughtily down his nose whilst sporting one of the most flambouyant comb overs in cinematic history or Banjo rolling in the street firing his deadly musical namesake are pictures which turn up repeatedly. Not just when Sabata is being discussed but the wider genre too. Compare that to their counterparts in Return of Sabata. Reiner Schone, as Clyde, the Banjo equivelant, carries none of Berger's effortless presence. Whereas Berger's character always gave the suggestion that he could take on Sabata at any moment, Schone's is little more than a scheming fool; not only failing at every turn in his attempts to outwit his older adversary but also being in obvious and constant fear of him. He is also far from cool. In truth his beautifully manicured hairdo and moustache make him look more like a second rate lounge singer. As a consequence his position as foil is undermined. He offers no real threat and some important chemistry is lost as a result. Giampiero Albertini, to be fair, has shown himself capable enough in other films but as the main villain, Joe McIntock the town boss, he is being asked too much here. Moreover, for such a central character he gets very little screen time and any chance of us connecting with him or seeing him as a real threat are thereby undermined. What's more, his henchmen are shown to be ineffectual at every turn. All in all, in the area of two key characters, Return of Sabata is playing with a serious disadvantage.

But Return of Sabata's problems go deeper than just missing a couple of key personnel. Something else has gone awry here and it is the general tone of the film. The original Sabata was far from a serious film. It always had its tongue strictly in cheek and a large part of its charm is its kitsch value. Where Parolini went wrong with the sequel was allowing that lighter tone to dominate rather than merely underpin the films atmosphere. This is most obvious in the over use of acrobatics and connected nonsense but is set in place from the outset when the opening scene plays like an episode of The Avengers. Putting Sabata in a sideshow complete with clowns gets everything off on the wrong foot and is all the evidence we need to tell us that we shouldn't even try and take anything that follows seriously. It's a major mistake as the biggest quality of the film's star is his persona of controled meanness. When Van Cleef is obviously playing for laughs we are in serious trouble. He is clearly walking through his performance here and as a result just doesn't deliver in the fashion he should. You suspect he knows it's a turkey and is consoling himself by counting the money.

On top of all this we have a script and story that is just plain poor. The constant twists and turns of the convoluted plot are kind of expected territory for a film of this type and Parolini pretty much invented the formula. But things are taken to an extreme in this film and it doesn't take long before you stop caring. It doesn't help that all these machinations don't cover up the fact that the story is full of holes. Moreover, there are elements which beggar belief even when accepting that the film is no more than a fanciful romp. Annabella Incontrera's character of Maggie the newly arrived prostitute is a good example. She seems to have been included purely to try and convince the audience that Van Cleef was some kind of virile sex god as she does nothing at all except hang off his arm, look at him smoulderingly or inform others that he is giving her bedroom lessons. This may actually be the funniest thing in the film. Unfortunately it's not supposed to be.

I guess you can tell by now that Return of Sabata is not among my favourite films. It's not the worst spaghetti western ever made. That would be unfair. But, for me, it is one of the most disappointing. There were a lot of good people involved in making it and even accepting the problematic nature of all sequels it really should have been better than it is. In some ways I suppose it reflects the general downward trend of the genre which occurred during the 1970s. It certainly is a strong example of my axiom of '60s Van Cleef -Good, 70s Van Cleef - Bad.' (The Grand Duel being the exception which proves the rule) And it's increased comedic levels equally reflect the changing fashion 'Post Trinity'. And for those reasons I perhaps should not be so harsh on it. It is no worse than many other films of its type from the time. But I find myself judging it by what it could and should have been and in that context it is an absolute stinker. So if you are in the mood to see a bit of Sabata style fun, do yourself a favour. Stick with the original. You'll feel a lot cleaner in the morning.

I watched the MGM release of this film which is a big improvement from the old fullscreen VHS I used to have. The picture and sound is clean and bright although, to be honest, the widescreen format is somewhat wasted on such a 'town bound' film. It is a good quality release with, unfortunately, the usual 'no extras' I'm afraid. It's nice to see MGM releasing anything from the genre of course but I do wish they would put their money into something better.

Why Go On Killing?

Dir: Edoardo Mulargia / Jose Antonio De La Loma

1965

A man is led, tied by the neck, by a gang of men to a spot outside of town. Here he is bound to a tree and shot, one by one, by each of the gang starting with the crippled patron who urges his men on, calling each by name until the deed is done and the victim hangs slumped against the ropes holding him up against the tree's bullet riddled trunk. Lopez, the patron, has had his revenge but the cycle of vendetta has, in reality, only been given another spur to keep it rolling around; another act of brutality to feed on. Thus opens Why Go on Killing? A Spaghetti Western full of despair and bitterness and decidedly downbeat in nature. Traits which became common in the genre over the next few years, but for a 1965 production this was still something of a rarity. Especially in a film with such a heavy Spanish influence. And, along with its status as Edoardo Mulargia's first western and one of the first for its star, Anthony Steffen, this little revenge flick is of more interest than it might at first appear.

And a revenge flick is what this film is, first and last. From the above described opening scene to the final, bloody denouement there is no other factor at play in the entire narrative. Well, maybe a little bit of greed and gun running, but nothing worth mentioning. Apart from that the story consists of one act of vengeful violence answered by another, without respite or attempt at finding a peaceful solution on the part of either of the two main protagonists in the struggle. Senor Lopez (Pepe Calvo) is not a man to bury the hatchet lightly and when the son of the man he has ritually executed comes home to settle the score he proves himself to be equally unwaivering in his sense of justice. This character is Steven McDougall (Anthony Steffen) and he feels strongly enough to desert from his post in the army to settle matters with the Lopez family despite having had some romantic link with Pilar (Gemma Cuervo), the daughter of the clan, before he went away. What ensues is a relentless stream of tit for tat actions from both sides which, if it wasn't so bleak in nature, could remind one of a Larel and Hardy comedy where someone's broken window is answered by a ripped off car headlight or a poke in the eye. The two mens' bitterness is seemingly bottomless and yet, surprisingly, the roots of this feud are never illuminated for us. We know that old man Lopez is confined to a wheelchair as a result of an attack by Steven's father but we never find out what caused that attack or whether it was an accident or a deliberate act of violence. Rather the film opens 'mid feud' so to speak. We are dropped into a pot boiling over with spite and recriminations and we just hold on for the ride as the two mens' hatred feeds on itself until there is nothing left to devour.

This sounds like all very hefty stuff and, to be fair to those involved, it is a pretty decent example of an early period spaghetti punching above its weight and attempting some down and gritty drama. But let's not get carried away. It's a Steffen film after all and so, although the solemn revenge theme runs through its core, action is never far away. Indeed, our man Tony is only on screen a few moments after his initial opening credits ride across the desert when he gets his first 'roll and shoot' opportunity and the bullets start to fly with abandon. This is all to the good. Steffen does a good job in the role of Steven but it would be unwise to ask more from his well of acting talent than is reasonable so plenty of running around, shooting and looking determined is a smart move all round. Anguished looks are better left to the bloodhound eyes of Calvo and the experienced victim of so many Italian genre films, Ida Galli, who plays Steven's unhappy and much abused sister. Altogether these personel cover all the bases required and when you add in the excellent Aldo Berti as the hired outside killer, Gringo, an extra tinge of nastiness completes a first rate cast for a film of this type.

Who should get the directorial congratulations is less clear. The copy I watched of this film credits the Spaniard Jose Antonio De La Loma as the man in the chair but it would appear that in reality it is just as possible that Mulargia helmed the show. Certainly Berti is on record as saying so but with these Italian / Spanish co productions it is very difficult to say with any real conviction who did what behind the cameras as so many credits were given for financial rather than creative reasons. Giusti credits them both, which is probably safest, but I sense the greater
hand of Mulargia. There is an air of darkness here that I have never seen in anything else released under De La Loma's name. If this is so it is a pretty good effort on his part and is an early sign of what he would be capable of with the right material in the right circumstance.

Speaking of credits, I found myself re-examining the opening credits closer than usual after watching this film. Why? You may be asking? Simple (If a little sad). Anyone familiar with the work of Anthony Steffen will know that in most of his westerns up until around 1969 he sported one of the worst hats ever seen in the genre. Small, folded up at the back and tilted forward this sartorial abomination was more akin to a battered and badly designed triby and meant that Steffen often appears less like a mean, cool hombre and more like a slightly drunk embarrassing uncle at your sister's wedding. Now, the only western Steffen made prior to this, as far as I can tell, was the German co production Der Letzte Mohikaner where he was garbed up in frontiersman buckskin as the character Deerslayer. So, Why Go On Killing? would appear to be the debut appearance of the 'Hat from Hell'. Therefore, unless our man Tony supplied the hat himself (the product of an ill advised or drunken bet perhaps) it would seem reasonable to assume that the person in charge of wardrobe on this production must carry the can for first introducing the dreaded Titfer to an unsuspecting cinema audience. As I said, I scanned the credits closely for this purpose and can state that Sergio Celi, costume designer for Why Go On Killing?, would appear to be the man to blame. Of course Steffen has to shoulder his share. If for no other reason than that he agreed to put the damn thing on and didn't have Celi thrown off the set. Either way, I feel strangely cleansed for having finally solved the mystery and put the issue to bed once and for all.

Why Go On Killing? is an important film I believe. (and not just because of Steffen's hat) It's the first western for Mulargia, Berti and others and one of the first for Steffen. But it is also a very good example of how the genre was developing away from the American mold and focusing on a clearly more mediterranean view of the old west. It still has traces of the previous style but the influences of Leone and a south european sensibility are becoming more and more dominant. The music in the film is a good example of this. Felice Di Stefano's score features a lamenting trumpet theme and electric guitar sequences which had become features of the spaghetti style but also includes incidental stuff which would seem more at home in a Bob Steele saturday matinee oater. Something of a strange mix but it still works just fine. It is not a great film. The characters have no real arc to speak of which, with subject matter this dark, is kind of essential for a film to show any real depth. But it holds its mood well and everyone involved conducts themselves competently. I certainly enjoyed it and would like to see it get a proper DVD release.

They Call Him Cemetery

Dir: Giuliano Carnimeo

1971

1971 was a crossroads year in the Italian Western cycle. With the most creative and successful years apparently behind it the recent large scale success of the first Trinity film seemed to offer new hope for the genre. But the Trinity formula was a very different animal to that of its predecessors. It took a genre already well swathed in irony and led it across a dangerous line into open parody. It was a step which attracted a large new audience but also alienated many existing fans for whom extended fist fights and obtuse clowning was everything they didn't want in a western. However, the Trinity Express was far too powerful a train to ignore and more and more films followed its style over the ensuing couple of years. Some embracing its comedic style whole heartedly, others borrowing some of its lighter elements and enmeshing them in a less parodic way. Giuliano Carnimeo's They Call Him Cemetery is a film which, although occasionally flirting a little too much with the comedy elements, maintains a balance between irony and parody as successfully as any. Walking the line skillfully between the two and delivering an enjoyable adventure film which offers an opportunity for a great screen relationship between two of the genres favourite sons; Gianni Garko and William Berger.

The McIntire brothers return home after an eastern upbringing to find their crippled father and his fellow ranchers under the grip of local racketeers who are bleeding them for protection money under threat of violence. The brothers, full of moral fury but ill equipped for a town addicted to the gun, confront the bad guys and make themselves targets for the mysterious gang leader who keeps his face covered and enlists the services of a paid gunman to eliminate the new trouble makers. Unbeknownst to all, another gunman has arrived. A stranger who seems to have the welfare of the brothers at heart and who is an old and respected acquaintance of the racketeer's newly hired man. The two gunmen spar around each other, attempting to serve their own purposes without coming into open conflict or transgressing their 'professional code'. Eventually, their torn loyalties can lead them in only one direction and when the brothers discover the racketeer's true identity and where he has stashed all his ill gotten gains a showdown is inevitable. But who will win out and where will the dollars end up?

Garko had already extended the ironical boundaries of the western with his Bond-like, almost supernatural, characterisation of Sartana; first under the direction of Gianfranco Parolini and then Giuliano Carnimeo. With Cemetery much of the look and feel of that successful series was maintained. The ultra cool hero, an element of mystery to be solved, uncanny and seemingly effortless shooting ability all show Sartana's influence but adjustments were also made to accommodate a generally lighter tone and allow for more comedic elements. The two 'greenhorn' McIntire brothers are the most obvious insertions which deviate from the previous formula. The plot of the film primarily follows their quest to rid their father of his racketeering adversaries. Garko's character, although central to the film, is merely the vehicle to their accomplishing this task; bailing them out of trouble, teaching them to shoot and generally watching over them like a guardian angel. Sartana would never have allowed anyone else to dominate one of his narratives quite so obviously. But there is also large amounts of screen time dedicated to the two Mexican servants of the McIntires and it is often through them that the increased comedy elements are generated

This increased comedic content in the film is its one real weakness. Although given a lighter tone from the very outset (an effective scene which includes a sharpshooting Granny and a baby pacified by sucking on a bullet) when Garko's character arrives the 'whacky' sound effects and silly ear slapping he gives a menacing bad guy threaten to send the film over the edge into irretrievable territory. This is a step too far for a Garko character and for a while I was concerned that there was no way back. But, luckily, from then on the line is maintained far more skillfully. Garko's role is centred far more on his relationship and rivalry with his fellow gunman, Duke, while the comedy is contained more fittingly with the Mexican sidekicks and incompetant but well meaning McIntire boys. This separation allows a far better balance to be maintained and facilitates one of the most satisfying elements of the film. The chemistry and rivalry which develops between Garko and Berger.

Cemetery, according to Carnimeo, is a character at once similar to Sartana yet different because he has a social component. Whereas Sartana was always chasing the loot for his own purposes Cemetery has less selfish motives and, ultimately, is acting on behalf of the down trodden in the story. Duke, on the other hand, represents the more traditional, self serving spaghetti figure and this, along with the characters' mutual respect and competitive spirit creates a good natured tension which both actors exploit splendidly. The world weary pair are always composed yet always scheming and looking to outwit each other while simultaneously avoiding a direct confrontation out of an obvious affection felt for each other. Garko summed it up best in an interview when he said that "you get the impression that these two characters already left a great tradition of Italo-Westerns behind." Which, of course, they had. Both in their characters and as actors. This is a great pairing and, for me, is one of Berger's very best performances. Playing the mercenary Duke with a deceptive air of charismatic boredom through which a surprising level of humanity shines. Make no mistake, this is Garko's starring vehicle but Berger completely steals the show.'

It's also worth noting that Bruno Nicolai's score is of the very highest order too. A catchy, yet haunting theme runs through the whole score and proves to be as effective for rousing as well as poignant scenes. And there are plenty of both of these as Carnimeo guides us through a skillful mix of moods as the story unfolds. The rest of the cast perform ably. There are cameo appearances for genre favourites Franco Ressel, Nello Pazzafini, Rick Boyd and Ivano Staccioli (all of whom are always welcome) while the two McIntire brothers are handled well enough by British unknowns Chris Chittel and John Fordyce. British viewers may well recognise Chittel however, as he has been a long standing regular on popular soap opera Emmerdale for some years, playing the character Eric Pollard.

Altogether, Carnimeo delivers a very solid mix. Working with a good script from Enzo Barboni, the creator of the Trinity films, and utilising the talents of his two leading men admirably he weaves a successful blend based on a predominantly light hearted palette without getting too lost in open comedy or slapstick. He loses his footing at times but recovers well and the end result is an enjoyable if undemanding ride. If you like your spaghettis on the lighter side this is a must see. And even if you are more a fan of the darker sort (which I certainly am) this may well be the film which softens your position a little.