Another of those borderline films from 1965, this time patterned almost exclusively after American Westerns. There’s the pistolero trying to live down his reputation and go straight (The Gunfighter, The Fastest Gun Alive ad nauseam); the noble sheriff torn between his duty and the nagging of his peace-loving wife (High Noon); as well as a-man’s-gotta-do-what-he’s-gotta-do dialogue, a “Gee whizz pa” doting son, plot points and other elements copied faithfully from the B-Western handbook.
The plot, like the moral outlook, is as simplistic as they come, with square-jawed Frenchman Jacques Berthier as a heroic lawman looking to retire, and Livio Lorenzon (as Charlie Lawrence) providing the only real spaghetti spark as the sadistic eponymous bandit whose depradations force Berthier into strapping on his gun again.
It’s thoroughly routine stuff, predictable, ill thought out and full of misnomers: why is Lorenzon’s comic-strip Mexican bandido named Charlie (he certainly doesn’t sound like he hails from Colorado)? And Berthier is christened Wild Bill when he’s really the stolid type.
The best one can say is that it’s considerably better than Roberto Mauri’s subsequent Shotgun.