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.

$10,000 Blood Money

Dir: Romolo Guerrieri

1967

If someone were to ask you to sum up the characteristics of the Spaghetti Western genre, the elements which differentiate it from the classic Western, you would probably include the following factors.

1. An increased level of cynicism and calculated violence.

2. A heightened use of music to illustrate character and drama.

3. A seemingly amoral 'anti hero' protagonist driven by greed or vengeance.

4. An acute sense of 'cool' in its main characters which borders on the fetishistic.

5. Heavily stylised visual composition drawing on the iconic geography and symbols of the west.

6. An undercurrent of religious and sexual tension which lies obvious but undiscussed.

If you were to look for a film which encompasses all of the above to such a degree that you could almost be forgiven for thinking it was designed as the perfect example of the genre you need look no further than Romolo Guerrieri's $10,000 Blood Money. On the surface a simple story of a bounty hunter's quest to pull in a villain worthy of the title's price but in reality a film which offers so much more and during its dramatic journey subverts the image of the western hero more than any film I can recall. It also happens, in my opinion, to be one of the finest italian westerns ever made.

Django (Gianni Garko) is a bounty killer, and a particularly ruthless and mercenary one at that. He is only interested in the money and he always brings his men in dead. Recently released convict Manuel Vasquez (Claudio Camaso) raises his interest as he goes on a crime spree but, in a show of extreme cynicism, Django opts to wait before going after him as he believes he will commit more crimes and therefore be worth more money if given a little more time. At the story's outset Vasquez is worth only $3,000. Django sets his target at $10,000. Then, and only then, will he make his move. This price is eventually reached after Vasquez kidnaps the daughter of local rancher Mendoza and the old patron offers to double the $5000 reward being offered by the state. This comes at the same time that Django is on the verge of quitting the profession and leaving with the lovely saloon owner Mijanou (Loredana Nusciak). He succumbs to his greed and, despite her telling him she will be gone in six days, he leaves her in search of Vasquez. After a number of twists during which Django teams up with Vasquez in pursuit of even more money, the bounty killer and prey have their final and inevitable showdown in a desolate and windswept ghost town.

£10,000 Blood Money is crammed full of issues one could discuss but seeing as though this is a review and not a doctoral thesis I will limit myself to the two most obvious and subversive in the context of the western genre; of both the classical and Spaghetti persuasion.

To begin with, in a field of popular cinema well known for its violence and killings this film is possibly the most murderous. That is not to say it has an inordinately high body count. There are countless films which boast more general carnage. What I mean is that in the case of all the deaths shown in this film every one of them is cold blooded. It is a convention of the genre that the hero at least, even if he kills with seeming unfeeling willingness, will confront his adversaries in some form of open conflict. Usually he will wait for his opponent to go for his gun first or will react to being fired on or threatened in some way. In £10,000 Blood Money its main protagonist does neither. He fires from dark alleyways or behind door frames. He kills when they are unready and often unarmed. What's more, he will pump a few extra bullets in their defenseless carcasses just to make sure. This kind of callous if logical approach to killing is usually the strict domain of the villain in these films. The hero, however amoral he may seem, will usually conform to the accepted code and allow his opponents the opportunity to be overwhelmed by his superior speed and skill with a pistol. In this film Django offers nothing of the kind and, as such, Mijanou's accusation that his "profession is paid murder" is only too accurate. Faced with such a 'hero' the villain is obviously not to be outdone. Vasquez kills with equal impunity but perhaps the only real differentiation between the two is the relish he appears to take in it. In fact, when the story calls for a crime of real resonance to motivate the drama it is not a killing at all but the abduction of a woman with all its implied connotations which takes the fore. When Vasquez wants to really hurt the man he blames for sending him to prison he takes his daughter, sneering at the father "Don't want me for a son in law? Don't worry, I won't marry her."

It is of course not surprising that no weddings are planned. Not least because there is an elephant in the room throughout the entire film; dominating almost every scene yet never being spoken of. That elephant is the obvious sexual tension at work between the two male protagonists. A tension which would probably only be relieved by a fishing trip or two up Brokeback Mountain. In a genre filled with simmering masculinity it is not difficult to find homo erotic references if one should choose to. But it is less common to see such obvious, albeit unspoken inferences threaded throughout a western the way this one does. In one of the very first scenes of the film Django and Vasquez pass each other in the desert riding in opposite directions. They eye each other silently as their paths cross. Evaluating each other as adversaries? Possibly. Indulging in a subverted male gaze? Just as likely, as ensuing scenes suggest more and more overtly. At one point the two men choose hand to hand combat over gunplay and after exhausting themselves physically slump happily onto the hay covered floor like two spent lovers. And just in case all this is not enough there is a particularly memorable scene where Vasquez grabs Loredana Nusciak by the face and plants a big lusty kiss on her lips only to slowly lift his eyes while doing it and gaze heavy lidded at Django. Whew! And in leather trousers too.

What is important here is not the gay references per se but the fact that the characters' actions, in particular Django's, are driven by this latent and seething sexual tension to the point where at one point it seems as though the bounty killer will give up his prize. It is only when Vasquez betrays his trust and murders the departing Mijanou that Django regains his resolve, pursuing the bandit finally out of vengeance rather than greed. It is also worthy of note that despite all these gays suggestions no one is played in any way camp. Nor is their implied sexuality offered as an obvious manifestation of wickedness as in Django Kill! or Requiescant or a myriad of other films where the villain's homosexuality is shown as an example of his twisted character. Here it is just a theme to be explored and left for the viewer to react to in whichever way they choose.

This film plays with so many of the conventions of the western genre that I came away from it feeling like I'd been slapped around. The subversion of every moral code usually to be found even in the most gritty of spaghettis, the undermining of even the most ambiguous of anti heroes, the sheer callousness of all the central male characters' actions. And all done with such style and skill and in such a thoughtful fashion. I couldn't help but suspect that $10,000 Blood Money might just be one of the most important films of the genre. A second viewing only strengthened my conviction. All of the above elements would be enough on their own to make it a worthy film for anyone's attention. But in addition we are offered a 'Patty Hearst' twist, an inversion of male /female roles (when was the last time you heard a male lead in a western ask his departing girlfriend to "take me with you"?) and a hero who's lust for money is shown as an unhealthy addiction which he can't kick. Anything else? Oh yes, there's the excellent score from Nora Orlandi which uses the Theremin (or something which sounds damn like it) and bell chimes to skillfully illustrate character and set a mood of eery melancholy throughout, a great script from Ernesto Gastaldi and masterful direction by Guerrieri who pieces the whole thing together with subtlety and style. Add to that some beautiful cinematography by Federico Zanni wonderfully lit and composed and you have a total package that I would recommend to anyone and everyone. It also features the marvelous Fernando Sancho and so much eye make up lathered onto Garko and Camaso you could be forgiven for thinking the whole thing was sponsored by Max Factor.

I had known of this film for many years and heard good things about it but for one reason or another had never got around to seeing it until just recently. It was well worth the wait. Not just because of how much I enjoyed the film itself but also because it proved that despite 30 odd years of being a fan and some two hundred spaghettis viewed, there are still jewels out there for me to discover. Long may it continue.

In a Colt's Shadow

Dir: Giovanni Grimaldi

1965

In the early days of the Italian Western cycle there were a number of films which leaned heavily on the previous American style. Most films produced in 1963 and 64 fell into this category but after the success of Fistful of Dollars the distinctive 'Spaghetti' styling we have come to enjoy began to develop and the productions which followed in 1965 and 66 were influenced as much by Leone and Corbucci as by their U.S predecessors. But the manner of the traditional U.S western still cast a long shadow during these transition years and a number of films from around this time showed an equal bias between their American and European roots. In a Colt's Shadow is a perfect example of this duality; a western which pays equal homage to the godfathers of both camps: Sergio Leone and John Ford.

Two pistoleros, Steve Blaine (Stephen Forsyth) and Duke Buchanan (Conrado San Martin) rid a Mexican village of their bandit oppressors but in the gun battle Duke is seriously wounded. He gives his share of their fee to his younger partner but, knowing that Blaine intends to marry his daughter and retire to a farm, stipulates that he must stay away from the girl or face his wrath. Blaine ignores the older man's instructions and sets out for a new life with Duke's daughter (Anna Maria Pollani) in tow. Unfortunately, they wind up in a town run by two corrupt bankers; Jackson (Franco Ressel) and Burns (Franco Lantieri) and Blaine is forced to use the gun he had hoped to put away for good. Moreover, once Duke recovers and hears of the young love birds plans he sets out to catch up with them and make Blaine pay for his defiance.

As mentioned above, In a Colt's Shadow has much of its look and feel in the older American style and, to begin with at least, this does not do it any favours. I'm a big fan of U.S westerns but when their style is simply aped it rarely comes off without appearing corny and false. The opening dialogue in this film between the two pistoleros for example is painfully wordy and wooden and the viewer could easily be forgiven for thinking that the rest of the film would be as clunky. And in fact in some scenes this proves to be so. But as the story progresses the 'Italian-ness' of the piece forces its way through. For all the hero's stiff conventionality the villains in this movie are pure Spaghetti and the action scenes and final showdown are superbly executed with a flair and vigour rarely seen in Hollywood films of the period. What results is a real hybrid with overt nods in the direction of both styles.

Giovanni Grimaldi was principally a writer rather than a director so it is not surprising that his style behind the camera is somewhat derivative in its nature but his cinematic quotes, though obvious, are quite pleasurable to behold and are well crafted and integrated into the narrative. The opening door of the ranch house, shot from the interior to reveal a stark black frame around a figure bathed in bright exterior light is lifted straight from John Ford's The Searchers but an interesting twist is added by the inclusion of violence in the frame. A shot that is repeated for good measure with two gunmen instead of one a little later. He makes an equally overt reference to Leone's style however in the final showdown scene where the build up is drawn out, squeezing every last drop of expectation possible from the increasing tension. Unfortunately, much of this good work is undermined by a somewhat syrupy ending but when considered as a whole it's a pretty solid piece. The visuals are good, which could well be the work of cinematographer Stelvio Massi as much as Grimaldi, and the score from Nico Fidenco fits well.

But the element which struck me most was the interesting cast. The film's lead, Canadian actor Stephen Forsyth, was possibly the least interesting on show. Although in real life he is an intriguing figure. After making around a dozen films in Italy including a few unexceptional westerns and the more celebrated Hatchet for a Honeymoon with Mario Bava, he moved to New York and carved out a career for himself as a multi media artist. Working as photographer, actor, musician, poet, choreographer and performance and video artist. Difficult to imagine from his somewhat one dimensional performance here that he was so multi faceted. Thankfully though, he is playing opposite a plethora of stalwart Spaghetti baddies in this film and they provide some wonderfully eccentric moments. Franco Ressel, a firm favourite of mine, offers perhaps the most compelling performance. A tight wound ball of arrogance, sadism and conceit he explodes at one stage in a magnificent torrent of rage and unleashed frustration, whipping frantically with a switch at an inanimate wooden post like some demented and ill equipped lumberjack. Franco Lantieri, as Ressel's business partner, is similarly psychotic. Manically sensitive about his wooden right hand, he shows equally unhealthy levels of spitefulness and cowardice. The former when in a position of advantage, the latter when his one good hand is under threat. I love this kind of pantomime villainy and in the context of this storyline it works perfectly. Adding much needed colour to an otherwise fairly pedestrian plotline.

Conrado San Martin plays the less featured but equally important role of Duke Buchanan with a solid level of stoic flair. A veteran of a bucket load of Spanish and Italian films, San Martin worked in just about every genre imaginable. Medieval adventures, Peplums, Eurospies, as well as a handful of Spaghettis, he also featured in a couple of Spanish Horror pieces for Jess Franco. He also made a few films with Sergio Leone. Appearing uncredited in both Once Upon a Time in the West and Fistful of Dynamite but also in a featured role in Leone's first film as director, The Colossus of Rhodes. Such experience shows through in his largely understated performance and despite the poor level of dialogue he has to work with (judging by the english dub at least) he carries off his part well and I would like to have seen more of him.

As for the female performers, well Anna Maria Pollani is not given much to work with. Her role as romantic squeeze and disobedient daughter is unfortunately more passive than it could have been but the void is more than filled by the bad girl of the piece played by Helga Line. Her saloon girl, Fabienne, is treacherous, conniving and self seeking so Miss Line has a much better role to get her teeth into and she does a fine job. Although I must say things could have been improved even further had her part been filled by Rosalba Neri. An unfair slight on Helga perhaps, but I can't help but fantasize.

In general terms I think it is fair to say that In a Colt's Shadow is something of a mixed bag. An American style western but with strong spaghetti flavour; a well staged action film which is sometimes too wordy and sickly cliched; a largely derivative styled genre piece with some genuinely well crafted visuals. It is all these things and more. But I think, for me, its strengths outweigh its weaknesses and helped along by some strong performances in key roles and some genuinely impressive stunt work during its excellent action sequences I found it to be a good example of the earlier stages of the Italian Western cycle and a film I thoroughly enjoyed as a result.

The version I watched of this film was the excellent Imagica edition. Very nice widescreen picture which really showed the film's visual style off at its best. Certainly the recommended edition if you can get it or a copy thereof.

The Challenge of McKenna

Dir: Leon Klimovsky

1970

A drifter happens across a recently hung man and a distraught young woman as he rides through the country alone. He buries the man and takes the woman to a local ranch where he discovers that she is the ranch owner's daughter and that Dad was responsible for the hanging; his unsubtle way of fending off an enamored suitor he disapproved of. At first the drifter signs on to work at the ranch but he quickly falls out with the owner, Don Diego and his spiteful son, Chris and wanders into town instead. Here he meets up with a beautiful saloon keeper, falls even further foul of Chris and winds up rediscovering the dangerous passion of his unhappy past. Something that can only lead to more blood and tears as Don Diego and son see him as an increasing threat to their local supremacy.

On the surface, the above synopsis could easily describe any one of a number of genre features which aspire to nothing more than a bit of melodrama interspersed with periodic action sequences leading up to a showdown. The characters of megalomaniac patriarch, spoilt psychotic son, whore with a heart of gold and drifter compelled to intervene are by no means unique and the basic storyline is equally common. But first impressions can be deceptive and The Challenge of McKenna is far from a run of the mill horse opera. Beneath the standard plot structure and stock characters lies a genuine attempt to explore some deeper emotive issues and along the way it leans heavily on philosophy, scripture and poetry. Not something which can often be boasted by even the most lofty examples of the genre, let alone by a low budget, studio and gravel pit confined production directed by a man better known as a 'journeyman' than an artist.

This is possibly unfair on the director as Leon Klimovsky, although becoming better known for his lower end genre work, began his career in Argentina adapting literary titles for film such as Dostoyevsky's The Player and Ernesto Sabato's El Tunel. He always insisted that he had set out to make art films but had ended up making commercial ones. So perhaps The Challenge of McKenna is an example of what Klimovsky was capable of when given the opportunity. Then again, maybe not. As with many of these films, actual authorship is difficult to place. In a business climate of co productions where a quota of names from a particular nationality was essential to secure funding it is not always safe to attribute work to someone purely because of the credit list. Klimovsky's name is, for example, the one credited for A Few Dollars For Django despite the fact that Enzo G. Castellari is known to have directed much of that film. What confuses matters further is the appearance in the credits as writer of fellow director Edoardo Mulargia. Mulargia did occasionally write for films he didn't direct but at this time in his career that was rare. And lastly, just to muddy the waters further, it was claimed in Variety at the time of the film's production that the story was supplied by star John Ireland and British screenwriter Wolf Mankiwitz while Robert Woods has claimed that he and Ireland were responsible for directing most of the dramatic scenes themselves as Klimovsky said very little to the actors throughout the film. I am not claiming anything specific in regard to the actual credits due on this film. I just can't be sure of anything. But I do think there is probably more to be discovered about the film's actual authors and that we should probably be cautious in accepting the credits as given. One thing is for certain. Whoever was responsible, The Challenge of McKenna is a success due to a very good script well filmed.

Indeed it is the quality of the script that lingers with the viewer long after the closing scenes. Full of excellent one liners and interwoven with poetic quotes and religious allusions it exhibits genuine depth and resonance. It also allows the characters to show themselves through their dialogue beautifully without getting bogged down in lengthy speeches. One of the best examples of this is when Chris (Robert Woods), Don Diego's villainous son, is discussing with Ed, a neighbouring ranch owner, the possibility of marrying his sister if he has sufficient money. Ed is horrified at the idea that Chris would sell his sister. To which Chris replies "Me? I'd give the Bitch away." In one brief exchange we understand fully that Chris is not only nasty but jealous of his father's attention and that his father covets wealth and power above all else. We also learn that Robert Woods, in the right circumstance, makes a terrific spaghetti villain. As the film unfolds Woods grovels, rages, bites his nails with cannibalistic intensity and generally overacts to a wonderful degree. He also laughs maniacally, caresses his own face like some demented Richard the Third caricature and shows a truly unhealthy attraction to his sister. This is what I like to see in my spaghetti bad guys. Full on, unhinged villainy and Woods shows himself to be well suited to the type. Roberto Camardiel was, of course, more familiar than Woods with the heavy role and he is his usual excellent self as the patriarch Don Diego. Camardiel often alternated between villainous and light relief character parts but, for me, he is at his best in this sort of mean Mexican role.

At the same time, John Ireland fills the role of the drifter, Jones, perfectly too. Ireland played his share of villains over a long career but was always best, in my opinion, as the steady if troubled individual trying to live decently in challenging circumstances. This is the part he plays here. Jones (he is never called McKenna in the english language version of the film I have) is an intriguing mix of embittered loner and affable moralist. In western movie terms, a kind of cross between a James Stewart and a Randolph Scott character; at once searching for himself while running away from a bitter past. He is clearly the moral compass of the piece, his burying of the hanged man and instruction to the livery stable owner to "Give my horse 50 cents worth of feed and a kind word" establishes that very early on. Yet his character retains a certain ambiguity throughout and often resembles a film noir anti hero in his actions and cynicism. His enigmatic persona is accentuated even further by his repeated use of poetry quotes to answer personal questions directed at him throughout the film. But these quotes actually reveal more about his motivations than is immediately obvious. Shelley's Ode to the West Wind and Thompson's The Hound of Heaven illustrate Jones' rejection of God and the deity's reluctance to let him go so easily. Shelley was an outspoken atheist, Thompson's poem centres on the tenaciousness of faith and man's inability to escape it. Heady stuff for a low budget western.

The film does have its failings however and these, despite his excellent performance on the whole, are primarily centred around John Ireland. Or more specifically, his age. Although he plays his multi layered character very well, his love affair with Maggie the saloon owner is difficult to accept. Ireland was pushing sixty at the time and looks old enough to be the beautiful Annabella Incontrera's father. A sound actor he may have been, a romantic lead he patently was not. Moreover, it is clear that Ireland was also too old to handle his own fight scenes. A fact made all too obvious by the stunt double used, who even from behind appears twenty years younger. (This is a lesson worth noting for all film makers actually. If you are going to substitute an actor with a stunt double don't place them in the extreme foreground of the shot. Stevie Wonder with a bag over his head will be able to spot it.)

But these things aside, The Challenge of the McKennas is a very good example of a low budget film which punches well above its weight. All the cast are due praise, the soundtrack works well without being a classic, the themes are well played out and thought provoking and, above all, some of the dialogue and one liners are truly memorable. I could list a number of excellent quotes but perhaps the closing lines best exemplify the quality and down beat nature of the script. While pleading with Jones not to leave her, Maggies says: "You can't kill our love!" to which he replies: "I'm a human being, made in the image of God. I can kill anything I like." Excellent.

Unfortunately I am unaware of any current DVD release of this film. The copy I have is an old ex rental VHS whose fullscreen picture does not do it justice. However, the strengths of the film overcome this , along with its aforementioned weaknesses, and I would recommend it as worth watching in whatever format you can get hold of. Most certainly a hidden gem for my money.

Fury of Johnny KIdd

Dir: Gianni Puccini

1967

The Western has plundered the works of William Shakespeare regularly through the years. Possibly more than any other genre. And many of its most celebrated auteurs have had a go at adapting the bard's works into a sagebrush setting. Anthony Mann, William Wellman, Delmer Daves and Edward Dmytryk are good examples of how it was done in America and of course Enzo G. Castellari's Johnny Hamlet is a prime case in Spaghettiland. It's not surprising then that when communist intellectual Gianni Puccini decided to have a crack at an oater he should fall back on Old Bill's work to use as a starting point. This was a smart move as the tragic themes and characters which have helped keep Shakespeare's works so relevant and vibrant to this day fit the western genre like a glove and provide any film maker with a happy balance of action and drama to work with. This raw material still has to be used thoughtfully of course to make it interesting and that is what sorts out the men from the boys. Happily, Puccini does so capably here and Fury of Johnny Kidd proves to be a real pleasure as a result.

Romeo and Juliet is the play being adapted in this instance, with the Mexican and Gringo families of the Mounters and Campos filling in for the Montagues and Capulets of the original. The main principles of the storyline remain intact for the most part; The two families ongoing hatred and antagonism of each other manifests itself in murder and ambush during which both sides show themselves as bereft of any sense of restraint or mercy. The Campos, and in particular the eldest son Rodrigo (Peter Martell) are seen to be particularly ruthless in their endeavours and they are also aided by the complicit assistance of the local sheriff (Piero Lulli). Meanwhile Johnny Mounter, (Peter Lee Lawrence playing the Romeo part), meets Giulietta Campos (Cristina Galbo) while robbing a stagecoach with his one handed friend Lefty (Andres Mejuto) and takes an instant shine to her. They are expecting the coach to be carrying some treasure belonging to The Camposes and while they don't find any loot the beautiful young maid qualifies as far as Johnny is concerned. The pair meet up again during a raid Johnny makes on the Campos' ranch during which Senor Campos announces his daughter's betrothal to Sheriff Cooper. Giulietta is none too pleased with this arrangement and once an opportune and secret clinch takes place with young Johnny the couples' mutual infatuation is complete and their minds made up to be together. On learning of this the local saloon girl Roselyn (Maria Cuadra), who has enjoyed a previous brief encounter with our handsome hero, blows their story to Rodrigo in a fit of jealousy. Johnny is subsequently captured and jailed but Roselyn takes pity and affords his escape; sacrificing her own life in the process. The stage is now set for a final showdown as Johnny attempts to free Giulietta from her father's house and the Mounters embark on an all out assault on their enemy's stronghold. In Shakespeare's original of course the young couple's love is doomed by circumstance and the depth of their families' animosity. They can be together only in death. Will this retelling in the arena of popular cinema allow such a tragic denouement?

As in all good adaptations Puccini and his scriptwriters Bruno Baratti and Maria del Carmen Martinez Roman use the original text as a general structure but are not chained to it slavishly. The central themes and characters are maintained but they are happy to adjust things and play around with ideas in order to construct something fresh from the material. Retelling the same story in different costumes is not enough to make it interesting and it is no surprise that Puccini and his team are clearly set on making the story their own and embellishing it with some quirky twists and nuances. And quirky twists there certainly are. For a start the bond between Sheriff Cooper and Rodrigo Campos has homo erotic overtones that even my pathetically inadequate gaydar could pick up on. This is an unspoken element but the flashback image of them shooting at each other while Rodrigo is lying on a bed and the resultant relic of the bond which now exists between them (two bullets wedged point to point together in a bizarre and obviously phallic symbol), makes this abundantly clear even if, thankfully, the two men are not portrayed as anything other than fiercely masculine in any other context.

The character of Roselyn is also utilised cleverly. Instead of the old flame merely refered to in the original play as a girl who resists Romeo's advances, she is introduced here as a significantly more ardent rival for our young man's affections. She is thereby able to play the pivotal role of rejected lover, exposing the couple to Giulietta's family while also offering a tragic 'whore with a heart' figure that Westerns like so well. Moreover, as the saloon singer, she sets up the purveying mood of the entire film with her haunting lament of "La Muerte Esta Con Nosotros" ("Death is With Us"); by far the most effective saloon song I have ever heard in a Western. No skirt twirling and thigh slapping in this one. The song oozes a sense of tragic resignation and introduces Death himself as a character as present in the film as either Romeo or Giulietta. His presence purveys every scene and, uniquely to my knowledge, he finally appears in person at the end of the closing bloodbath, complete with skeleton face, cooly picking off any wounded survivors with cruel precision.

---- Spoiler Alert ----

And that denouement I mentioned earlier? Well no, Puccini takes a different tack on this altogether. The original play ends with the understanding that the purity of Romeo and Juliet's love could not survive amidst the deep rooted, blind prejudice and hatred of their families. Shakespeare chose to kill off his young lovers to symbolise this impasse. Puccini takes a different tack entirely on the scenario, choosing rather to kill off everyone else (literally) in order to put an end to the madness and allow a new beginning based on love. It is both a more positive and a more gruesome conclusion but one which I think works well within the context of the piece and the Spaghetti genre itself.

Fury of Johnny Kidd is an impressive film for a director who only made one western. Puccini's tragic death aged only 54 the following year meant that we will never know if it was a feat he could have repeated. What we can say is that he assembled an impressive creative team for this film and, as a result, it offers more than the average oater of its time while still delivering a satisfying genre feast. Cinematographer Mario Montuori (later to work on Ciak Moll and Forgotten Pistolero) produces some great work here, with some beautifully constructed visuals and the aforementioned scriptwork of Baratti and Martinez Roman means the dialogue is by and large free from some of the cornball excesses all too common at the time. Gianni Amelio's contribution as assistant director is always difficult to guage but his later celebrated career would suggest he didn't do any harm and his similar role on Giulio Questi's Django Kill suggests that he was a very useful player in the team. Gino Peguri's score is effective and, in places, memorable but for me was damaged by the unneccesary use a sort of sliding stylophone effect at times.

Finally, the cast was a good one and used very well. For me this is one of Lawrences best performances, almost the perfect part for his looks and screen persona. He is convincing as the young romantic hero and in hindsight bears an uncanny resemblance to Leonardo Di Caprio who was to play Romeo in a more recent and well known version of the story. Lawrence also enjoys an obvious chemistry with Cristina Galbo and it is interesting to note that the couple were actually married a couple of years after meeting on the set of this film. Galbo is fine as Giulietta but her thunder is stolen in the female stakes by Maria Cuadra who is both sexier and more effective in the role of Roselyn. Piero Lulli is perfect in the role of Sheriff Cooper with his mad blue eyes while Peter Martell is given carte blanche to play Rodrigo with as much open shirted, virile abandon as he liked.

In total Fury of Johnny Kidd is a very solid slice of spaghetti pie and a first rate adaptation of this Shakespearian tale. Everyone involved does a creditable job and the end result should please any of us who enjoy their pasta with a classical flavour.

The version I watched of this was the first class recent release from Koch Media who continue to bless us with excellent presentations of previously hard to find films. The italian audio and english subs are nice and should satisfy anyone but the most subtitle-phobic while the picture quality was clear and vivid and in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio.

Killer Kid

Dir. Leopoldo Savona



1967



Approaching an Anthony Steffen film is, to paraphrase Forrest Gump, like opening a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get. Granted, the likelihood of a masterpiece is pretty slim but outside of that there is an equal possibilty of uncovering anything from a solid genre piece to an all out action fest to a turkey the size of an aircraft carrier. Most, to be fair, fall somewhere in the middle of all these options. But, on occasion, our Tony managed to get himself involved in a pretty decent film or two and Killer Kid for my money is one of his very best.


Now before we get carried away let me make myself clear. I am not about to suggest that Killer Kid is a Spaghetti Western of the very highest order. This is not a film which threatens to usurp the most celebrated works from their well deserved pedestals in any way. It has a number of shortcomings which are far too obvious for that. But it has a number of genuine merits too and in the grand balance of things it's a pretty good film by any standards. And I do mean by any standards. By Anthony Steffen standards it's verging on Citizen Kane.


Killer Kid (Steffen) escapes from a Yankee jail and heads south of the border where he becomes involved in the struggles of a band of revolutionaries, their gun runners and the Federale troops led by Ramirez (Ken Wood) who are ruthlessly tracking them in search of their elderly intellectual leader, The Saint (Howard Nelson Rubien). The waters are muddied by the self interests of one of the revolutionaries, Vilar (Fernando Sancho) and a smouldering romance which perculates between Steffen and the Saint's beautiful niece, Mercedes, played by Luisa Baratto. Loyalties are complicated and the story takes a few twists and turns before the final battle between revolutionaries and federales settles things for good although, predictably, at the expense of some central figures.


The most obvious first note when discussing this film is its Mexican Revolution setting. Somewhat grandiosely it announces its dedication to the Mexican people in an opening credits statement and the general sentiments of the plot are certainly sympathetic to the revolutionaries but the hero here is a gringo and his alignment with the downtrodden only comes when his own mission is safeguarded and complete. In truth this opening statement seems more than a little hollow for a film which is clearly never meant to be anything more than entertainment. But that not withstanding, there are genuine attempts I think to allow the characters more depth and layers than many of the action oriented westerns made during this cycle (and certainly in many of Steffen's other films) so I'm happy to make allowances. Besides it is obvious that Savona and producer Sergio Garrone were doing their upmost to make a quality film with a very restrictive budget and their achievement is to be applauded. For example, this is a Zapata western made entirely in Italy. No scorching iconic Almerian landscape to help set the mood here. Just an italian quarry and the backlots of Elios Studios and Cinecitta. This would normally jar but I found myself almost being fooled on occasion and the fact that the cheap locations went more or less unnoticed was a good indication for me that there was enough good stuff going on to keep me focused on the story.


In prime position among this 'good stuff' for me was the tour de force performance delivered by the wonderful Fernando Sancho. If you're a Sancho fan, and I most certainly am, then Killer Kid offers everything you could want from the big man and more. He leers and blusters, simpers and shouts, he struts and cowers. In fact he mugs unashamedly through the whole thing and garnishes it with outlandish laughter and elaborate moustache stroking. No one could overact with such relish like Fernando and the character of Vilar gives him full rein to shine in every direction. In the early stages of the film he gets to be untrustworthy and sadistic. As the stories unfolds, power hungry and ruthless. Then, and this is where he strays from the norm, by the end he shows a softer, more vulnerable side and is ultimately redeemed. This final character development was a welcome change and a credit to Sergio Garrone who, according to Marco Giusti, was likely the lone scriptwriter here despite the joint credit with Savona and co producer Ottavio Poggi. I always enjoy Sancho as a bad guy but equally enjoy his less regular appearances in more sympathetic roles so this film offers the best of both worlds.

But despite Sancho's show stealing this is obviously a vehicle for Anthony Steffen and I have to say that although I am not one of his biggest fans he aquits himself very ably here and shows how, with the right script, he could be a very effective leading man. We get all the usual 'roll and shoots' of course and the other standard Steffen stuff but his character goes on a genuine inner journey of sorts and his chemistry with Luisa Baratto is sufficient to make the love interest both engaging and believable. His loyalty dilemma is played with equal competence and the conclusion of the film shows him making an interesting shift. I won't discuss this further in order to avoid spoilers but suffice it to say that although not entirely unexpected I thought it added a more thoughtful closure than many of Steffen's other westerns.

On the down side, there was some decidedly jumpy editing and I was more than a little confused as to which Mexican Revolution the film was set around. The bolt action rifles and Federale uniforms of the Mexican troops would suggest the 20th century conflict but the U.S army officers are decked up in bright blue a la the Seventh Cavalry from the 1860s or 70s so maybe it was meant to be based around the Juarez thing. In truth, this is of no matter. As has often been said, expecting verisimilitude in an Italian western is something of a fool's errand and I for one was happy to smile and let it go. It may damage the film's ability to be taken seriously as an historical narrative but outside of the aforementioned dedication to the people of Mexico this film has few such pretentions and settles for being a thoroughly entertaining action flick with just enough character depth to keep it interesting and enough qualities in its cast, script and understated music score to make it well worth the purchase price for any Spaghetti fan.

John il Bastardo

Dir: Armando Crispino

1967

There were a number of reworkings of classic literature and mythology during the Italian Western cycle, from Odysseus to Orestes to Hamlet. These classic tales provided ready made dramas and heroes to a genre with a voracious appetite for new material. So it is no surprise that someone should adapt Don Juan, the quintessential anti hero tale into a western setting and John il Bastardo is the result.

Don Juan has become a character as synonomous with incorrigable philandering as Casanova and his story has been told and retold for generations. The most famous versions are probably Mozart's opera, Don Giovanni, and Byron's epic poem but the story was first told by the Spanish 17th century dramatist, Tirso de Molina, in his play El Burlador de Sevilla (The Trickster of Seville), and it is around this story that all others (including John il Bastardo) are based. Tirso was a priest as well as a playwright and his play was both a morality tale and an expose of the hypocrisy in contemporary Spanish society. In particular it highlighted the ephemeral nature of the honour code which dominated 'polite' society in Spain at this time and the character of Don Juan, with his refusal to acknowledge the value of anything beyond his own base desires and pleasures, was used both as an illumination of an amoral society and its sacrificial scapegoat; paying for the sins he committed openly but which others were also guilty of in a more complicit sense.

In Crispino's western adaptation, Juan (John Richardson), or in this case John, is given a tortured past which provides him with both a source for the bitterness he feels towards society and a revenge motif to hang some of his nastiness on. A bastard in both senses of the word, it turns out John is the illegitimate son of Don Diego Tenorio (Claudio Gora), a wealthy Mexican landownwer and he sets out on a journey south of the border intending to usurp his half brother Francisco (Claudio Camaso) and take possession of his inheritance. Along the way, he deflowers a couple of Mormon lasses, a daliance which has lasting repercussions as their hired assassin Danite (Gordon Mitchell) pursues him as a result, and generally behaves in an arrogant and abhorent manner at every turn. His final come uppance is inevitable if a little bizarre and it appears obvious that the writers were struggling to shoe horn in the stone statue element that is central to the traditional denouement to the tale. They manage it, but only just. A summary sentence which could be used for the film as a whole.

John il Bastardo suffers from a major problem. Its central character is so lacking in any redeeming qualities that it is impossible to connect with him on any level. Arrogant and cruel, self pitying as well as self seeking and with a chip on his shoulder the size of small planet he transcends any acceptable parameters of an anti hero and stands squarely in the zone of unlikeable villain. This is not a cheeky rogue or loveable bad boy. He is mean spirited and vain and his anguished childhood and sense of himself as unjust victim does not convince us that we should care. Rather it increases his level of self obsession and drives another wedge between him and our sympathies. This is a shame and a missed opportunity as the character of Don Juan could have been ideal for a genre which lends itself more than any other to morally questionable anti heroes. If Crispino had made his protagonist just a little more likeable and his actions just a little less despicable a better balance could have been struck and the whole film could have worked in a more satisfying way. One of the keys to Tirso's original play is that Juan's 'victims' were usually just as guilty as he in some way or another but were more hypocritical about their behaviour. This allowed Juan's open amorality to appear almost honest. In John il Bastardo however, outside of John's own kin, and possibly Papa Buck and his oafish clan, there are simply victims who are used and betrayed. Not a good recipe for audience connection.

The film does have highlights however, amongst which the performance of Glauco Onorato as John's ever faithful if stupid manservant, Morenillo, stands out. Morenillo is introduced at the very beginning of the film as a gentle giant figure similar to Lenny from Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men and his awkwardness and embarrassment in the face of his master's predatory carnal activities show him as a softer soul than is suggested by his willingness to shoot and fight. Moreover, his unstinting loyalty to John in the face of insult and abuse marks him as one of the few honourable characters on show. All this is conveyed by Onorato skillfully and he brings a genuine human element to a largely inhuman scenario. Ex Bond girl Martine Beswick also performs well, instilling her portrayal of Dona Antonia, the unfaithful wife of John's brother Francisco, with a a believable mixture of icy distance and repressed passion while Claudio Camaso plays the sadistic and power hungry brother with all the neccesary creepiness. His unapologetic nastiness appears as appropriate here in contrast to that of his protagonist brother. Finally, Gordon Mitchell's black clad, pistol toting, avenging angel is worth the admission price alone although it would have been nice to see more of him than the two short scenes we are given.

So all is not lost, but, in general, this is a film marked by missed opportunities rather than a successful adaptation of a classic tale. Perhaps Crispino's inexperience as a director was the cause. This was his first outing in the directorial chair. Perhaps it was mistakes made during the script writing process. Certainly the character of John is ill considered and doesn't allow for anything like the level of audience engagement that is neccesary for the piece to work. But whatever the cause, it is a good example of how, even in a genre where moral ambiguity and mercenary actions are not merely acceptable but warmly enjoyed, it is possible to go too far. And that even for the fan who likes their westerns on the dark side with down beat endings and seemingly amoral characters there is a need for some level of emotional connection with the protagonist. Sadly, John il Bastardo doesn't offer us this and as a result we not only lose sympathy for the lead character we are ushered into the worst possible scenario for an audience. We simply stop caring.

Overall the film is worth seeing as an interest piece but my advice would be, if you want to see a good telling of the Don Juan myth, give this one a miss and see Tirso's play instead. The original in thsi instance is definitely the best.